Monthly Archives: June 2018

Getting clearer

Well I’ve seen another side to Boris.

Who’d have thought that he could be charming, smiley, helpful, sensitive, garrulous and sociable..?

How I found that out will have to wait for another day.

It does beg the question as to why he’s been fairly objectionable for 9 days, though now I see why I’m not exactly his model of perfection, at least…..

Friday night.

Since a lot of people ask me about my children, on the absolutely fair assumption that I would be ‘in the know’ about them, I’m moved to say that actually I don’t know anything about them, other than what I hear third hand from other people who have some contact with them.

No, i haven’t heard from them since I moved back to Britain 9 days ago, other than a few words from my youngest in an email thanking me for gig tickets I had previously bought for her.

Despite the shun  I remain ‘ philosophical ‘ about them, I’d say, and am getting on with my life regardless.


So I still live.

No thanks to my Carer, I’d say though.

Today we had to go and collect my ibot from Chiswick. Dan had been storing it whilst my main man Lester was repairing the plug and changing the ( almost useless ) batteries, both mahussive jobs.

I explained our task to Boris, in crisp and audible English, with full eye contact throughout.

What I said –

We’re going to Chiswick to collect my ibot wheelchair. It’s about 2 miles, and it’s about half a  mile further than our trip to the storage unit yesterday. In fact the storage unit is almost en route, we just keep going after it. Please stay behind me all the way, following my Triride. The traffic will be slow. Don’t overtake me! You will lose me.  If you really have to pass me then pull to one side of the road and wait for me, then catch me up again. We’re not actually picking anything up from the  storage unit.

What Boris heard :

‘Meet you at the storage unit’


Jesus, 20 Minutes after he’d sped past me and several phone calls later, I eventually found him near the storage place.

I said why are you here?

He said ‘ you specifically mentioned the storage unit, so here I am ‘

I said that I hadn’t said that and only that it was on the way to where we were going…

He said ( and wait for it ) …

’ vell it vood have been easy – you simply had to make me a sketch of ve route’

Of course … silly me, right …?


My late and great Gramp.

I was telling Boris about my grandad tonight. He’s ok when I ‘ talk seriously ‘ to him about things, so I told him about me canoeing in a race in Alaska that crossed Lake Laberge ( it’s a bloody long lake – 35 miles long  )

Whilst there I stopped and collected some stones from the banks to give to my Dad and my aunties in memory of their Dad. My Gramp used to recite this poem, off by heart. It was his party trick, you could say, and was always, and will always be special to those that heard him recite it.

It features the lake I mentioned.

( My )Post mortem evidence.

I’m outside the storage unit, where my furniture is, waiting for Boris to arrive in my car. He’s coming here to meet me and then collect a list of stuff. Thankfully I have the list!

As he has no smartphone or a map, I’m not altogether confident that I’ll see him. When you read his words, you have to insert large pauses between each one of the words, ok?

Me-  how will you find the storage place?

B – I    will     look     on    your    map.. If necessary, I will make a sketch …

I showed him and he looked. I looked for giveaway signs that he was impressed by the technology, but no, nothing – that would have been against his spartan technophobe code.

He made a drawing.

We’ll see then….

Hes actually appeared to cheer up a bit? Perhaps there’s a bloodless corpse somewhere near that he has feasted on? Or maybe he’s chatted to the folks back home in Transylvania? Little Drac and Morticia, his youngest, may have softened him up?

There have been no females in the flat for 48 hours, so perhaps that’s it?

As he let me out today, half an hour ago, and I’m not making this up, he sniffed the air, then summoned me to him. Look, he said, pointing at the floor. What, I said,this being the first time that he had noticed anything at all on any floor. Blood! He said. Drips of blood!

I looked and indeed there was a trail, the splodges perhaps 2 feet apart. I ventured ‘ perhaps you should investigate?’ He said no. Perhaps you should call the police? He said no need.

Some old person could be bleeding to death nearby? I said.

Then he said ( and this cannot be normal, even in his homeland ) ‘ Maybe it’s the menstrual cycle of a woman ‘

Tbh, that possibility hadn’t remotely occurred to me, nor probably any of you. It was weird, period.

( see what I did there..? 😂)

I fear he was covering his tracks, and a drained body was nearby.

He has probably never heard of a blog, let alone read mine, so he won’t know I’ve rumbled him, but if this diary goes very quiet, then it’s likely I’ll soon be found with 2 small puncture wounds in my neck, in West London….

The only way to get Boris to do anything is to keep him busy. As with lots of Carers,his default behaviour is to sit down.

He just went to the supermarket. We made a list for him,obviously using a pen and paper, him not being any more technical than that. The list was 7 items long

He was gone for a looonnnnnnngggg time,obviously…

He then announced that he’d forgotten to buy chicken. I asked how? He’d forgotten the list,as well as forgotten the chicken…

I looked at the receipt and counted 11 items for him, and 6 for me… funny how he’d remembered everything that he wanted,isn’t it?

Yes I have refused to pay the agency the full rate for him. I wouldn’t leave him in charge of a hamster, let alone a human.