Yesterday I also did something which filled me with SHAME - I went to to the shops with Jenn, both of us in our pyjamas. I even teamed them with a coat and sandals. We were hungover from Friday night (gallavanting round Upper St and then Camden, leaving Jenn with a boy at her request, having to run away from a kebab shop man minus any kebab when I realised I did not have any money AT ALL to pay for it, finding a cash point and then experiencing a cab ride home in an unlicensed taxi with an illegal immigrant driver whom I chatted to merrily).

I digressed.

So, pyjama shop. The entire procedure should have taken us a maximum of 15 minutes, hopefully seeing a very minimum of members of the public, but the Law of England dictates that if you do this then half the population of Holloway will be at the shop and you will bump into someone you know. So as we exited, Jenn with bacon and bread and me with a Magnum, frozen curry and can of Tizer, 'Oh NOOOO, look, there's Richard!' announces Jenn and we are swiftly in a triple embrace with the HOT usher from work who 'got in at 5 am and had a rough night,' though it 'wasn't as rough as you two,' he tells us, laughing.

I would have felt less embarrassed in a giraffe outfit.

***

A short tale:

When I got home yesterday my mum showed me a letter that had been written to her by my paternal grandfather's (with the dementia) wife, Joan.

Joan has been married to Grandad for some 20 years, as my grandmother, Nanny, died when I was just four years old. Consequently, she is - for all intents and purposes - family.

I last saw Joan at my cousin Jo's wedding in Marylebone two weeks ago. I caught up with her as I did everyone; I wanted to ask her how Grandad was doing (in a home, comfortable) and how she had been coping with everything (gritting her teeth and getting on with it, essentially).

I was then saddened and incredibly touched to read the letter she'd sent to my mum. One of the lines read:

'I love Adam [my brother] and Sarah especially as they bother to talk to me. As I get older it has become very evident the older we get, the more we become a pain in the neck to the young.'

I had absolutely no idea...

It seems my other cousins (all of whom bar one are a bit older than I am and should know better) don't have a lot of time for her, even though she is as much part of the family as they are and I'm sure would be massively grateful for any support considering she's watching her husband of 20 years mentally deteriorate before her very eyes. I wish there was more I could do.

***

I hope you're all having a pleasant weekend/bank holiday. May is my favourite month of the year but due to today's rain and coldness, which meant I couldn't go out on my bike, I'm going to send a message by carrier pigeon to the sun, asking it to crank it up a notch, if it'd be so obliged.

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