Phone calls at 6am

are never likely to be a good but I was half-expecting this one. "Computer S..." , as opposed to my BIL "our S" and "gardening S..." keeps odd hours, knows I am usually up and around by then. As he is doing me a favour I could hardly grumble at him when he asked if he could come over "before it gets too hot". 

It is heading for 37'C today and S... is morbidly obese so I said yes. Three phone calls later - all from him - he arrived and has taken away the tower of the desk top computer. It is not working and I need it. This is one of the issues of working from home. The laptop is not nearly as comfortable to use and I do not have the same access to files on that...partly for reasons of convenience but also for security. I am now waiting for him to see if he can solve the problem with the help of his mate "Jo". I have not met his mate but, if they cannot do it between them, then the problem is insoluble. This is unlikely as they have a massive amount of knowledge between them.

S...was just on his way when I had yet another phone call. This one came just after 9am. It was from a solicitor's office in a town - now almost a suburb - on the other side of the city. The person at the other end asked for me by name and then told me that my late friend E...'s sister had died. My reaction probably shocked her because I am afraid I said, "Thank God for that." I meant it too because the last time I saw P..., a few days before Christmas, she was in a dreadful state and wanted desperately to die.  We chatted for a bit and she was still intellectually alert but the effort of caring for herself had clearly become too much. She refused all help offered and, when you have uncontrolled diabetes, this is dangerous. 

I had tried to keep my word to E... that I would watch out for P... but it was difficult. She resisted any overtures of friendship from anyone. Her days were spent walking the streets "for exercise" and reading. We had "coffee" together occasionally and I made her suitable biscuits at Christmas time. She lived in a very quiet block of units on a quiet street. She barely knew her neighbours - by choice. I think they cared more than she realised because they watched to make sure her bedroom blinds went up in the morning and down at night. One of them told me they were all concerned for her and "she's nice enough but not friendly". I knew what they meant.

And now it seems that the blind did not move and one of the other unit residents found her. There needs to be an autopsy. I had to inform her cousins, people with whom she had just Christmas card contact - and that reluctantly.

I have passed on P...'s simple funeral wishes and the solicitor's office will deal with that this time. P...'s life was not a happy one but it was the one she chose and I have to accept that. There will be just a handful of us to say our farewells. 

P... was just so different from her sister.