At Least I Didn't Turn Into A Pumpkin

The only time I go out in the evening is to events at my granddaughter's school. Tonight I was due at a dementia awareness presentation organised by the people who run Mother's care home.

I knew I wasn't going to have a whale of a time and my plan was to sweeten the pill by taking a walk on Bradwell Cockle Spit beach in the hope of spotting the pod of Pilot whales that have been seen in the Blackwater off Mersea.

No such luck, I got a call from the agent to say that our buyers are visiting The Homestead on Saturday with their parents so my sister and I spent the afternoon polishing.

I felt sorry for the woman giving the presentation. She had major technological problems with her laptop and projector. While she was being assisted by a member of the audience, three siblings, one of whom I heard tell that she had consumed three glasses of wine, were being very loud about an awful meeting they had attended that day with Social Services. They had been trying unsuccessfully to get help with their mother's care and it seemed like they too had toxic childhoods. The same sort of position we were in this time last year. It's enough to drive one to drink. :(

I learnt that only seven percent of communication between people is verbal.

I didn't appreciate presentation woman having a jibe at David Cameron, saying that he is a rubbish Dementia Friend as he found it difficult to explain to a person with dementia how to make a cup of tea.

Tillingham church was floodlit so I thought I'd take a pic. I was apprehended by a man who thought I was up to no good. Tillingham parish was granted by King Ethelbert of Kent to Mellitus, Bishop of London, to help finance his Monastery of St Paul. That monastery eventually became St Paul's Cathedral. Christians were worshipping here on the marshes forty or fifty years before St Cedd landed at nearby Bradwell.

I heard that the whales have been safely ushered out to sea but a female has been found dead.