My dead father visits me

Dad slept like a dead man. Photo: Caitlin McCall My dead father visits me now and again. He stands at the side of my bed and whispers: ‘I forgive you.’ That’s all. ‘I forgive you.’ Then he vanishes before I can ask him what the Hell he thinks he’s forgiving me for? Things should beContinue reading “My dead father visits me”

I want to be Lord Frost’s Brexit Svengali

I’m going to apply for the job as the head of the new Brexit Unit. That’s right, I want to be Lord Frost’s Brexit Svengali. I have no idea what Brexit is about but then neither does Boris Johnson, and Lord Frost, who we all thought was meant to be the expert, seems to have run outContinue reading “I want to be Lord Frost’s Brexit Svengali”

Moonpig, Mother and me during lockdown

It’s five months since Mother got sucked into a demented game of ping pong between us, hospital and her nursing home. Four falls, four visits. Still fighting. In that time, she’s fractured her hip, caught Covid and won the Cheeriest Personality of the Year at the local gerontology department’s Christmas awards after charming them duringContinue reading “Moonpig, Mother and me during lockdown”