Deal Pier

More rootling around for documents for J. Death certificates and house insurance that is running out. Dilemmas. Crap emails from a relative of his. Enter another family's business at your peril.

Then I spend an hour watching his nibs eating his lunch. It was strangely relaxing to see that slow deliberate hunger for life. Just witnessing. The baked potato skin scraped clean by last teeth. Touching and heartrending. Watching over. One of his carers slipping in and checking up. Running a hand through his tousled hair.

Running into JC as she left from her visit. A little team. Seeing myself as him, old and cared for, free from pain, voyaging on the strange ship of the HMS Residential Care. Wondering if I could afford it. £750 a week.

Over to Deal for a quick shop feeling heavy at heart and not sure why. The pier-end underwater from a super high tide, a north-easterly whipping in, the sun sparkling off the broken waters.

Then home to sort things for my mother. Watching Wales beat Fiji as the World Cup warms up. The fire burning. Night coming in earlier each evening.