h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

...and Do Something about mother, I think. She phoned me this afternoon absolutely convinced that I had gone into her bank account and paid her electricity bill without her knowledge or permission.

Apart from the obvious - that I have more than enough trouble in keeping up with *my electricity bills and wouldn't have enough left over to be able to do anything like that, the accusition is daft.

Firstly I wouldn't be so crass to take over her bank account, secondly I - like she, as it happens - don't know who her Electricity supplier is, and thirdly her bills don't come to me. More to the point, we live a good 60 miles away, and I am more likely to be told I've won the lottery than to be told the whereabouts of that holiest of grails mum's bank details are kept.

Which is fine by me; she doesn't trust me as far as she can spit (I was accused last time I visited of going thru her private papers when her back was turned, which did hurt a bit, as well as being offensive) and, despite her belief I'm untrustworthy and only after her money (of which she has lots), I really am not.

I wish she'd be a bit wiser with what she has, I admit; the local kitchen fitters charged her over £3,000 for just replacing her kitchen cupboard doors (AND did a shoddy job I might add which she "didn't like to complain about")

And a neighbour who repainted the inside of her house for her took 5 weeks (25 working days) to paint the interior of her very small 3 bedroomed house; he painted the hall, the stairs' wall and bannisters, the landing, one bedroom, the kitchen walls (which are mainly covered with very expensively doored cabinets) and a small living room.

And charged her £100 per day cash in hand. She won't tell me how much she spent out exra on paint, but I wouldn't say it would be cheap stuff.

That's an awful lot of money for doing your neighbour a job. And as slow a worker as I am, it surely can't take THAT long. It's not an old house, and I know for a certain there wasn't a lot of making good to do

As I remarked before, my poor old mum has definately got the word "Victim" stencilled accross her forehead for any tradesman with an eye to the Main Chance to see.

She phoned me, as I've said, this afternoon in a panic; it appears her bank account is being tampered with and bills are being paid without her knowledge - money is being taken from her account by an Electricity Company.

*AN* electricity company? It only needs one to supply a house, surely? She doesn't know which company she's with; Salesmen call around and she can't find the courage not to sign up and agree to be with whichever company they're representing. If it's a salesMAN, then if he were to tell her black was white and it was a bargain she'd believe him simply because he's a man. Men have deep authoritive voices and know what they're talking about.

Women?

Nah... woman are just plain stoopid. Women don't know what they're talking about.

I tried to help her untangle her problem over the phone, but in order to really be able to help I'd need to see the paperwork, and also see a bank statement to see what and whom she is paying by Direct Debiting Mandate and whom by Standing Order, just for a start. I don't particually *want to know her financial details, but if I'm to help, I *need to know.

There is a difference, honestly

And as

(a) I'm a woman (and therefore stoopid)
(b) I'm the worst daughter in the world
(c) poor ("What would *you* know about managing money, eh? You ain't got any")
and
(d) usually right, (which she really doesn't like!)

she's not letting me see anything!


I have been quietly concerned about mum's state of mental health for a good while now. Everything is an enormous effort for her to do now, and if she can ignore a problem or just allow herself to get ripped off so the problem goes away, then thats what she'll do. She is not looking after herself properly. She's taken to cutting her own hair very badly, wearing clothes several sizes too big for her and generally looking like a sad old scarecrow. Her diet is appauling - a combination of bread and butter, cigarettes, alcohol and possibly one half decent square meal a day.

She'll not quibble over £500 taken from her bank account for apparent electricity bills, but spend more than a pound on food? You're joking!

Her dog is under exercised and over active, and therefore more than a little neurotic. Mum won't go out for more than 2 hours at a time because she refuses to leave the dog on its own, and its so badly trained she cannot take it with her in a car journey, let alone take the poor creature to the local shops and leave her with the other dogs outside the shop for a few minutes.

And when I go and visit I am not allowed to take the dog for a decent walk because I tire the "poor little (so and so) out and she sleeps all the time and what company is THAT for me?"

I think you get the picture. I could fill so many pages of her odd behaviour, but it boiils down to this: My mum has lost the plot a bit and refuses to let me help her because she doesn't like or trust me a jot.

So... what to do?

I rang her solicitor this afternoon and explained the situation. Yes: I'm in a rather difficult position she agreed, but no, unfortunately, solicitors may not volunteer to take power of attorney for their clients. They have to be asked.

Had we any other familly who could talk to her? Brothers? Sisters? Cousins? Aunts? Uncles?

Not a one.

There's me and her 2 grandchildren. Oh yes, and a sister in law and a brother in law she doesn't like an awful lot living about 500 miles away. And who wouldn't get involved for love nor money.

Had I considered calling in a Social Worker?

I know for a fact that if I even *suggested a social worker mum would throw a tantrum that would register 8.5 on the Richter Scale. And to be honest, Social Services are so overstretched and tied up with red tape and stupidity that they can't manage the really obvious tradgedies such as the recent "Baby P" case, let alone a grumpy anti social and insecure old biddy.

They don't do damage control. They can't even pick up the pieces after damage has been done.

I've come to the conclusion that I will make a point of going to see her local vicar. She's a regular church goer, and I have asked him in the past to keep an eye on mum when she had been so awful with me I decided I wanted a bit of "Time out".

Perhaps if I explain the situation to him, *he might go and visit her and talk her around into getting proper financial advice and offer her a bit of practical aid - like getting her down to the GPs to sort out her many and varied ailments that have gone on far too long, which she has complained about repeatedly and done nothing about and finding people she really *does feel comfortable with to go with her, and keep an eye that she speaks up for herself at the right times. And ensure that she attends the damned appointments, too!

Maybe I can persuade him to go with her to the solicitors, so that he or they take Power of Attorney, to safeguard what she has against being persuaded into being conned yet again. It doesn't worry me that she's spending her money hand over fist - it's hers to do what she wants with.

What worries me is that she's getting damn all value for money and is becoming increasingly more confused and pressured and puzzled, and isn't stable enough to fight her own corner efficiently.

When dad was alive, he was about the only person who could get thru to her, who would humour her stubborness and quietly do what was necessary and presented her with a financial fait accompli. Dad was the only one who could curb the worst of her bad humour and hysteria - he tried reasoning at first, but we all knew that eventually he would lose his temper with her, roar at her to just shut up and leave be, which is what she always wanted him to do (for some reason she thinks anger and shouting equals love and security - go figure!) and she became sweet as a lamb; butter wouldn't melt, etc etc.

And at what cost? He died, about 13 years ago of heart failiure, probably exacerbated by the stress of dealing with a difficult woman. He was 67; no age to die atall. He'd have been 80 today, so happy birthday dad, wherever you are.

I'm not going to take over from where he left off. Mum is just going to have to learn to be treated in a civilised manner and accept that.

Because I'm not going to sink down to Shouting level. I really can't be asked.

I just hope to god the vicar will at least talk to her and persuade her to accept the help that will benefit her the most, and reassure her that my dirty little hands aren't going anywhere near her money.

I'm not saying a few bob wouldn't come in handy. I'd be liar if I said that was the case; money is invariably useful.

But I'd far sooner see mum spend every penny she has and mortgage her house to the hilt and spend the lot on having fun and being healthy and *enjoying* her life.

Can I get that through to her?

Can I hell as like!

Oh, Ev, you do have a problem don't you? To honest I have been wracking my brains while reading to try and think of something that would help, and I can't. It seems you have to wait till she is beyond help before anyone else can do anything.

I wonder if she is paying more than one electricity company? It has been known and they are pretty unscrupulous. It sounds as if it is hardly safe to leave her if she is that gullible. It seems to be happening to more and more old people too.

Is she amenable to either of her grandsons? Would they be prepared to try where you have failed (no offence)?

whatever you do. Here or on email if you want to chat.

Websailor

Hello Ev,

Oooh, what a difficult situation. The vicar seems a good idea though. In my mother's case, I'd ask her best friend to intervene - and then her GP. Does your mum have any (sensible) friends you could talk to?

Good luck. No matter how much we rationalise our mother's behaviours, they often seem personal and like a dagger to the heart, don't they?

Fb

Hallo you two Thanks for dropping by; I feel like an udder on a bull about this situation, frankly, and its nice to have company.

I've braoched the grandsons, Webby. I've been trying to persuade The Mother to remove Dave from the Executors, as frankly, bless him, sweet a person there probably hasn't been born, but more useless a helper for anything that remotely involves officialdom hasn't. I know what'll happen - he'll just sit and cry and witter and talk about all the things mum could have done and should do if she were alive, when the time comes.

She's still getting around to it (the solicitor is a 20 minute bus ride away) and doesn't accept that either grandson is adult enough (or trustworthy enough, either) to be co executor with me. I've suggested it, so therefore it must be A Plot To Get Money The fact that the solicitor is an executor as well as me and Dave (gawdbless him) doesn't seem to register.

As regards multipal electricity companies supplying her... I think you may well have an idea there. I think the only thing I can do is to drive up to mums either tomorrow or Thursday and Take Over her phone line for a few hours and Ask Serious Questions. It wouldn't surprise me if 2 companies *were claiming to supply her somehow. I have a horrible feeling that I may have to utter words like Ombudsman and Solicitor.

(And Oh Bugger it once I'm off the phone, too I might add!)

I need this like a fish needs a bike right this minute - I've Out Patients on Monday for one set of complaints and Day Surgery on Tuesday when the ENT specialist stuffs lights and micro fibres up my nose and down my throat to have a look see whats gone wrong with...... whatever's gone wrong.

AND I have to be ready at the ungodly hour of half past four for Wendy the Witch to collect me and drive me in, that particular day On the plus side, I do at least get a decent bit of sleep whilst they operate. And son number one is coming to collect me in the afternoon.

Fb - friends???? My mum doesn't *do friends. She's the lonliest person I know; no confidants, no girlfriends to giggle with, no one she feels safe enough to cry with... no one.

She's spurned the overtures of the decent neighbours next door, and the one Dog Walking friend who was prepared to look out for her, by being either aggressive, sarcastic or just turning their invitations down flat. After a time, people just won't bother, I guess, and I can't blame them really. Alas; she has no friends atall, sensible or otherwise. But there's still the vicar; it will all depend on how seriously he wants to take his pastoral work, I guess.

(I think I will phone mum's brother in law, my uncle Brian tomorrow, who's a vicar and see what pastoral duties do involve.) I very much doubt Brian would want to be involved, and I'm not sure really mum would welcome it if he did. He's married to my late father's sister, and they have a history of the best part of 55 years not getting on very well.... lord above, it's a right old mess, isn't it!

I doubt mum would welcome her GP's intervention, even if I could persuade him to House Visit. For one thing he's the wrong skin colour, and for another she despises doctors and the medical profession immensley. In her opinion all experts are complete and utter idiots!

She may have a point about the expert side of things
I am deeply ashamed of her racisism though.

I've given up rationaising mum's behaviour, I'll be quite candid about it. I took a course of hypnotherapy last year, for various reasons including childhood abuse, and I don't feel I *have to excuse her behaviour towards me any more thank god. I can see her clear for what she was, and what she is - a sad, screwed up woman who never had the courage to confront her problems and prefers to blame others.

And sadly, as I'm the only living relative left locally (along with the boys) she tries to use me as whipping boy; without sucess. Its because I won't be whipping boy she gets so angry and confused, but I'm sorry; I can't help that, only she can. It hurts me a bit because I don't like to see anyone being taken for a ride, but thankfully I don't take her behaviour to heart any more.

Although some of it *is pretty offensive.

Ah well. I'll pin my hopes on the poor old vicar. He's a man, after all. And we all *know* men are brighter than women.

Oh, thats sounds so familiar Ev, except my Mum was lovely to everyone and hateful only to me. In later years she had no friends, and before that, only one really.

A lot of what you say sounds like the start of dementia on top of her being a BI as Fenchbean used to say.

You do need to be forceful and try and sort something though, because, as in my case, the buck stops with you, however much you would like it to be otherwise. A conscience is a wicked thing to have sometimes

with your various appointments. At least the 'sleep' might help a bit. Take it easy afterwards, these things can be a strain even when we don't feel a thing.

Back later, otta the supervisor is on the warpath

Websailor

Progress.

Small progress, granted, but progress nevertheless.

I phoned mum for a check up and she's taken steps to get a new bank card (we think the one she had been using had been cloned, somehow) and thru a fluke of luck it now transpires that she now knows which Utility Company supplies her Electricity (EDF) and which her Gas (Either Southern Electric or British Gas, she can't remember off hand)

EDF has admitted it's their mistake for a lot of the confusion and within a few days they'll repair the mistake.

So that sounds fairly positive, anyway

I've tried thru out the day to phone Uncle and Aunty Vicar. As luck would have it, I know that Aunty always phones mum on dad's birthday,(which was yesterday) so, if you like, she may have had an up to date idea (ish) of how mum appeared.

I finally got through to them. Aunty was Out, but Uncle was in, so I firstly ascertained exactly what a Vicar's duties *are, aside from the obvious ones of the hatching, matching despatching and sermons.

It's quite an impressive list.

Having explained the situation to Uncle, he's strongly advised me to go see mum's local vicar. If nothing else he may be able to persuade mum to go to the doctors; Apparently, this is exactly the sort of situations vicars quietly get involved with, and I must admit, when I was introduced to mum's Vicar, that although he and I are poles apart of the religion side of things, he does strike me as very down to earth, genuinely caring, and above all sensible.

I'm waiting on Aunty to get in touch when she gets back home so we can see how mum appears to her. Whatever else, Aunty is civilised enough to put personal feelings of dislike (for mum) aside and be impartially objective.

Next stop? A quiet visit to mum's home town and a face to face with the local vicar.

It's a start, anyway.

Friend Eva,
I am withot words for your trouble. My mother once thought that midgets were comming at nightfall and stealing her food. You have great heartache for her. I send prayers for you both as it is all I am able. Take care to yourself first or you will lose all strength to care for others.
JR, your friend.

Friend Eva,
I do not want to burden you with many words. But I am stricken by the cruel ways of your mother. A mother is to be more than a womb and she is a mother always to her children or she is not to be honored as a mother. You must NOT allow ANY person to treat you with cruelty and no respect. You are a person and you have the standing tall of being a person, ( there is a word that I cannot find for this), so do not allow your heart to be beaten any longer.
JR

You see a lot further than most, you know that, john? I sometimes say, half in jest, that if I told my full life story, angels would weep and ask the question: Why?

Compared with a lot of the nonsense mum used to do and say, this is a small problem, really. I don't think of it as her being cruel...just her being who she is. And she's always been that way. She respects nobody, and I pity her really.

She used to bully me, when I was a child, and a young woman, but she never managed to completely beat me - I was pretty resilient and never stopped being who I was for very long! I think in her heart of hearts she envies me far more than she would ever admit.

Please don't be upset about it; as long as I have a place here in H2 to discuss things, and as long as I have my friends to listen to me when I need to let off steam outside of the screen, I'll be fine. As I said, I've spoken to my uncle, and I'm waiting on my aunty to phone me, just so I can discuss the situation and get my thoughts clear.

I have also phoned my friend Jan, who lives near my mother, and she has offered to come to the vicar with me - as support, and also to make sure I haven't missed anything out.

Which means a weekend away this weekend with a good and loyal friend

And that's a good thing.

Johnredbear is a very kind, 'all seeing' soul isn't he, Ev?

I am glad you have had some progress. Good luck with the vicar. It sounds like your best chance as he isn't 'official' in the way some people would be perceived.

I am sure your mother is jealous. It is a mothers and daughters thing, the same way you get it with fathers and sons. It certainly was with my mother. She resented the freedom young people have nowadays, and did everything possible to block mine. There is also the thing of missed opportunities, and life not panning out the way it was planned. Some cope and 'move on' and others become bitter.

Thinking of johnredbear, I am wondering if it is a sickness of our society. Other cultures seem to have a better way of coping with families and relationships.

Perhaps your 'distance' from your Mum will make the inevitable easier to cope with. I know it was easier for me, though I have regrets, but as a mother myself I know things were not always my fault, as I used to think.

Take care,

Websailor

Ev: How wonderful that a weekend of duty and some dread is now becoming one of friendship and support

All these people

I saw your replies come up on screen, both of you, but couldn't reply as I was on the phone to my aunt.

She too, had concerns about my mum, and after years and years and years of being polite but distant I think I've found a sort of very distant family - the sort who are...well... normal(ish) The upshot is that I really do feel that we understand each other a lot better - or maybe I just feel more secure in sharing family problems with her and Uncle Vicar. I don't feel *guilty* anymore in discussing how mum is. I don't feel I'm being disloyal.

I learnt quite a lot about myself as a child, too. Being adopted on Christmas Eve of 1957, my aunty found it a magic time (all that symbolism of a special baby arriving on that particular day)

But she wasn't allowed to tell me of how special that day *was...for her. Or for the family, generally.

Several years on, I remember - and asked if *she remembered, how we used to play a game, where I was a little stray kitten and she used to find me on her door step, and how pleased she was. It shocked her beyond belief when I used to tell her "I'm a kitten, and my name is Mittens" I was about 3, I think.

Because that was my birth name - Josephine Mittens! Odd, or what?

Sorry; I'm digressing all over the place here. It's been a bit of an emotional whirlwind really. I was touched beyond measure at both of your supports, and also the clear seeingness of johnredbear (and yes, Webbie, I think it *is a sickness of our particular society, this bitter mothers and saddened daughters thing).

To have Jan volunteer to sit in with me made me a bit full. To finally knock down the barriers that my mum and dad had made between my aunty (who as a child I idolised because she made such a huge fuss of me, which I loved) and her husband Uncle Vicar who I was always disposed to like....

I haven't got the right words for it yet.

It feels good though.

A bit strange.

But good.

Thought it was only something I could share with my sons, this feeling, this feeling safe and secure.

And icing on the cake, the local vicar has just phoned - he's seeing me at 11.00pm at his vicarage.

Oh, that's lovely news Ev. There was, shall we say, discord in my family, and because of it I was denied a family. When I grew up and made my own contact, I found a caring family who were concerned about me but couldn't do anything.

I am so glad you have 'found' yours before it is too late. Don't ever worry about being disloyal to your Mum. We all feel guilty about that, but bottling up worries never does any good, and talking on here, like to a stranger on a bus (I have one that before now!) is fairly safe, as you are not identified.

Johnredbear says take care of yourself or you will be of no use to your Mum or anyone else and he is right.

The badger is clanking dishes and the husband flashing lights so I had better log off before I get in hot water.

Good luck with the vicar. Perhaps you might see things differently after tomorrow.



Websailor

How wonderful to find family like this, Ev. It just shows that from bad situations, good things really can happen

Having just had a large dose of family drama, I understand just how comforting and amazingly reassuring it is to find people with whom you have shared histories and affinities. Family is important.

Are you really seeing the vicar at 11pm??? I'd be snoring at him


Fb

Sorry - emotion (and, I must admit a hastilly poured glass of vino) stopped me from writing the 11 'clock bit clearly - it's 11.00am on Saturday, not tomorrow.

Which gives me time to take a nice leisurely drive up to the other end of Kent,on the Friday, spend an afternoon and evening with Jan, and franly, get my thoughts in order with her.

I'm not sure I'll ever be able to relax and... not take for granted, obviously, but find it easy to accept "familly support" - for the last 50 odd (very odd!) years, with the exception of my sons, I have been deeply suspicious of familly, generally. If I'm honest, it took the boys the best part of the first ten years of their life to convince me I was a bit special to them; I found it very hard to believe.although I had no problem in knowing *they were special and loving them to bits.

@Twasn't until I became crippled and they stuck by me and nursed me,

(together with their friends - remind me, some time, to tell you the appaulling story of how I got stuck in the bath and they called in 2 of their girl friends (who were all of a size 10 between them) to haul their mam out!)

nagged me into taking interest in life again and generally chivvied me into getting my backside in gear I finally figured it out. I *am special to them, too.

To find that sort of feeling can - and generally *is -extendable to *other members of familly is, to me, quite amazing.

Right. Weekend bag is packed,and I'm off for the weekend.

Yesterday?

Yesterday I sat and wittered and began questioning my motives. Eventually I began vomiting. It wasn't a tummy bug - it was sheer fear. I used to throw up in terror like that when I was little- and it was usually when I wasn't believed even though I always told the truth as well as I could.

It amazes me that despite all the work I've done on myself, that any of that frightened little kid still exists within me. I don't ususally allow myself to get nervious, I acknowledge I feel a bit scared, make a joke about it (or if it's really important summon up some righteous anger to see me thru) and then just get on with whatever needs to be doing.

But yesterday my inner 6 year old got in touch quite firmly. So I listened to her and didn't dismiss her.

I'm very wary, incase I *am disbelieved - and I feel guilty that I'm revealing mum's vulnerabilites and exposing how helpless and hopeless she has become. I would have liked her to have the respect of her peers and not their pity, so in a strange way I feel I'm being a Tell Tale.

But I know perfectly well if I *don't do this, and at least make it known that I consider she needs help her situation will escalate and everyone can rest on their laurals and say "But we didn't KNOW.....

So chin up kidda. Lets fight this little battle for you and convince you you *will be heard, and those fears can be put to rest for good, eh?

You're 51 years old. And lets face it, ankle socks just don't suit you any more.

Bravely written Ev, I am just sorry that I am probably too late and you have already gone.

That rang such bells with me! The vomiting and other things even more unpleasant have been a feature of my life too. It doesn't happen so often now, but when it does it is quite a shock.

Rest assured you are doing the right thing in speaking out. It is useless to leave it until things get really serious, as it is much more difficult to deal with. Your motives come from a gut instinct and are surely right.

However, be prepared for a total denial, and being made to look a liar if your Mum finds out. That is a perfectly usual reaction, and anyone with even the slightest dementia, or even full blown dementia of one sort or another, can cover it up well enough to fool most people for short periods.

'Tell tale' - I haven't heard that one for a long time, but it is something we were all afraid to be, even when circumstances justified it. I was one several times in my life, and though it didn't go down well, I was fortified by the knowledge that I was right. We call them 'whistleblowers' nowadays but who, in their right mind, can argue with the 'rightness' of their cause?

I hope all goes well and you come away from the weekend feeling a little happier about the situation.



Websailor

I hope the weekend isn't as bad as you fear, Ev. Hold fast to what you know to be the right thing to do.



Fb

'Twasn't too bad, all in all; it was the *thought of doing it that was the sticking point for me - hence the vomiting and the rather jiddery entry on Friday - I did everything I could to delay getting up to Jan's until I irritated myself into DOING it.

Once I was there I knew there was no turning back - it's a bit like Stage Fright really. You're scared to death, until someone pushes you on stage and then pride alone ensures you just don't corpse infront of all those people I guess.

And I did have my "Prompt" come with me, bless her. And she was a tremendous help. She was brilliant. And she did a lot of the talking when I dried up.

The vicar gave us a fair hearing - he was shocked to hear "our" version of Mother was not as he perceived his parishioner.... until we got to the fact that she uses the dog as an excuse for her not going anywhere.

After that, it was easier, and he started asking "Need to know" sorts of questions, so that after he's had a chat with her (after service this morning, if she attends) he can drop in and blag a cup of tea from her unexpectedly at the house and suss things out a bit more.

We agreed that what she needs is a "Buddy system", and he'll liase with Uncle Vicar, and also let me know how he's getting on with mum.


We reckon it'll take months of patient visiting before she even thinks of confiding in him, but we're hoping he can at least liase with her GP who may well call her into surgury to give her a thorough MOT, both physically and psycologically without her actually being aware of the importance of it all.

For all I know, it could be some form of ailment that is causing half her problems that could possibly be dealt with quite easilly. If I had a "reason" for her being so obnoxious sometimes, I could cope with her a lot better, somehow, and know when to make allowances for her, and when to growl politely.

The G.P. is actually very good - from the little she's told me of him he's pretty astute at dealing with her- he will just *give her (for example) her yearly flu injection when she, on the rare occasions goes to him, rather than go thru the charade of asking her to make an appointment he knows perfectly well she won't keep. I attended the same doctor when I lived in the same town as her and I had a lot of respect and time for him; he knows when to Do and when to leave be.

Quite a rareity, really. She doesn't like him much, but no surprises there, really.



I know I'm doing the right thing, for the right motives. I'm grateful for your support and good wishes. Just remind me when I wobble a little, perhaps? Because I'm a notorious wobbler until I get the hang of things. I'll get terrible fits of what the lads and I refer to as "Insecure Cat" for a while, so bear with me.

I've made my decision though, and there's no going back. And yes, it does look like I have found a family; I'm going up North to visit my Aunt and Uncle in June. The more I talk to them, the more I find I like them - and Aunty said she enjoys talking to me!



Lets face it, mum's never approved of me or liked me much anyway, so it's not as if I'm going to hear anything much I haven't heard before from her.

Oh, I am so glad that is over for you for the moment. You have set the wheels in motion, and you are not on your own any more. Rest assured we will be here if you get the 'wobbles' - so many of us have been there

Every cloud has a silver lining apparently, with regard to your aunt and uncle. You may well learn some good things you didn't know too.

Take care, you have my email address if you want to go 'off message' any time.

Websailor