Thursday dawned, and I got up to feed the dog, who had fortunately stopped farting before being allowed to sleep on my bed.

Just as I was leaving to go to work, Mum appeared, so I was able to give her brief instructions on the telly (I put the telly on and showed her the up and down buttons on the remote), where the “proper” teabags are kept (I drink redbush which just brings a look of contempt from her) and the location of the nearest pub, should she wish to venture out.  I explain that if she does, she will need to leave the back door open and go out via the back gate, as I don’t have a spare key.  (Actually I do have a spare key, but it’s in the spare key hiding place, and I don’t have time to show her a. where it is, b. how it opens the door or c. listen to her tell me that I shouldn’t have a spare key in a hiding place outside where just anyone could find it and let themselves in. )

She is horrified at the suggestion that the flat would be ok if left unlocked. People could get in. Yes, they could, but they don’t, I say. It will be fine. She shakes her head at my virtual invitation to burglars up and down the country, and I leave for work.

Whilst I’m at work, Oli pops in to see Mother. Only he doesn’t manage to gain entry to what is now Fort Knox, as Mother has put the chain on the front door so Oli only manages to open the door a couple of inches and also nearly knocks himself out by walking into a non-opening door. Fortunately the dog gets wind of the situation, and alerts Mother that Oli is at the door, so she lets him in.

He explains that he can’t stay too long, as he is due at work at 1pm. He plans to leave at 12.45pm. For reasons known only to himself, he parks on the road, which is a resident only street, and none of us have permits, as we have 3 off road parking spaces.

At 1pm I get a text from Oli saying “Just left yours – got a bloody parking ticket…..if I’d left at 12.45 like I’d wanted I wouldn’t have got it”. I tell him to contest it on the basis that he had to park on the road as he was waiting on an ambulance coming to see to his 87 year old Grandmother, but I doubt he will.

When I get back from work at 5.30pm and I ask Mum what she’d like for supper, she opts for a gin and tonic. She is keen to share her day with me.  She reports that there is “money everywhere”, which I’m very interested to know more about.  Turns out she found £1.05p in the lounge, 15p in Alex’s bedroom and a large amount of money in the kitchen. She is of course referring to the ex-cocktail cup I once stole from Mahiki, which we all call “the Man”, which, not surprisingly, is where we keep our spare money for the odd take out, loaf of bread etc.

Me : “Can you pick up some dog biscuits.. the money is in the Man”

Toby : “The shop didn’t sell biscuits, so the dog got pretzels” (This actually happened, but not today).

Mum tells me that in order to ascertain just how much money she had “found” in the Man, she began counting it. She had it all in neat little piles, on the dinner table, when she suddenly realised that there was something a lot more exciting about it.  She had read in her paper (the Mail on Saturday) about the rarity of certain 50 pence pieces, and how they could fetch quite a bit from coin collectors. Now, here she was, sitting in my dining room with one of these very coins.   It was a Mrs Tiggywinkle 50p.

Understandably carried away with her find, she abandoned the count and shoved all the other money back in the Man, keeping said 50p piece separate to show me.

I don’t read the Daily Mail, not on Saturday or any other day of the week, so I was oblivious to the stories of instant wealth from the Mrs Tiggywinkle 50p, but I’m already planning how I’m going to spend it. A nice holiday – heck, I’ll even take Mum with me – a new car, maybe a classic convertible – eyelid surgery.

I’m on Ebay quicker than you can say Blepharoplasty, and I discover that the latest sale on said auction site had scooped the seller a massive 85p. I let Mum down gently, she is clearly deflated, having hoped her efforts were going to result in a slightly bigger gain.

We’re on our second gin before I realise the telly is on Comedy Central. Turns out Mum got confused with the channel up and channel down buttons, and having landed at Comedy Central lost all sense of direction and decided to just stay put, enduring 9 hours of canned American laughter. She hasn’t seen the news and so has no idea what’s happening in Kent today.

We FaceTime with Alex again briefly, Mum by now quite blasé about the whole procedure. Our third gin prompts Mum to go get a bag of things she has brought down with her, that I “might want”.  Mum does this at every opportunity, and actually, although I don’t want any of the stuff, I’m all in favour of her doing it. Her house is a tiny two up two down back to back and is stuffed to the gills with things Mother has accumulated*. (*For accumulated, read hoarded).  So if it alleviates the situation at all, then she can offload a bag or two with me and I’ll ditch it in the charity shop round the corner and no-one will be any the wiser.

My booty this trip includes various long necklaces of polished stones which Mum used to wear, a glasses case, a tea towel (RNLI, brand new), some bed socks (YES – GET ON MY FEET NOW!!), a jam jar of roasted almonds, four packets of Jakemans© Throat and Chest sweets (one for each of us, packet reads : Throat and Chest Aniseed and Eucalyptus Menthol Sweets ONCE TASTED THEY WILL BE YOUR FAVOURITE SOOTHING SWEET) and some bits for the boys which I insist I will wrap up for them to open at Christmas.

Another gin and a bit more shouting at the telly (she has some rather extreme views on certain issues, I avoid them, as I would avoid stepping in a big dog turd on a lovely woodland walk.)

We watch The Apprentice but she can’t hear a lot of what they say as they all mumble these days, and soon we’ve finished the Plymouth gin and started on the Lidl one instead.

I can’t remember now what we giggled at, but whatever it was, it was lovely. I declare it’s time for bed, but not before I’ve dispatched a Touchnote card to a friend of hers who she hasn’t been in touch with for so long, she’s now embarrassed to do so. I tell her I’ve done this, and she says if I have, she’ll be cross in the morning.  I say she won’t remember it in the morning.  She says she will.

It hasn’t been mentioned since.

Day 2 complete

Beer 0
Gin 10 each
Disagreement 0
Giggling fits 1
Patience levels 10