Mother

Firstly, my sincere apologies for not writing before, but you see, my Mother died at the weekend - she was seventy-six, which isn't a huge age in this day and age.  It happened something like this: on Saturday she wanted to purchase a 'stew pack' of vegetables to enable her to prepare a hot dinner for us all to serve prior to the new series of Stars In Their Eyes, Mother wasn't generally a fan of ITV's output, but she'd once shared a strawberry sundae with former host, Leslie Crowther and had become a fan of the show ever since.  She was a tad disappointed back in 1991 when she failed to secure a place on the programme as Tammy Wynette, but she bounced back after the women who took her place was stung to death by an angry swarm of hornets six months after the broadcast.

As ever, I digress; tonight I can blame it on my grief.  Anyway, Mother was leaving the Sainsbury's Local where she spotted that a new tattoo parlour had opened over the road; without looking she stepped into the path of a reversing Vauxall Frontera and was knocked to the ground.  She was conveyed to the nearest hospital by ambulance, but suffered a major heart attack en route and although she was revived in the ICU, died four hours later - at 16:34 to be precise.

I've been filling out paperwork ever since.  Her body is in the care of the local Co-op Funeral Parlour and we haven't been informed of the burial date as yet, so there's no real need for me to start buttering sandwiches as yet.  I just feel numb - Wilf's here with me, which is nice.  He also has nowhere to live as, unbeknownst to me, he was living in his half-brother's garage in West Malden as he'd not earned enough money to cover his living costs and the landlord took action against him in the High Court. Life can be very depressing at times.