Tears dry on their own..

• Difficult choice for me today :- The swimming hat or the rain hat ? Why either you might ask ? Well, it's Mum and her crying to be quite truthful.  My head is wet, smoothed to my tiny bird-skull with salty wet tears. Any specific reason ? Just taking in oxygen seems to be enough of a trigger today.  In no particular order, the following things have got Mum's tears flowing with reckless abandon. ...
•  The pigeon with the deformed beak, stretching up to reach nuts on the feeder  .
• The scenes of the riots across England.
• The wildlife on the Garden of Heligan tv programme last night.
• Lord Velvet scuffing cat -litter everywhere like confetti (see note I)
• The chapter on Jean Harlow where she died ( mind you, The Baby was a total honey and at 26 ! We were robbed).
• The article she read about Amy Winehouse ( I heard Mum say it was awful that Amy died alone).
• Her hair, which is breaking and coming out all over the shop ( We think its stress).
• The burn on her arm from the baking tin.
• The fledgling great-tits that were eating off the suet cake this morning.
• The swifts training their babies to hunt on the wing when we went for our walk to Goose Green yesterday.

I could go on, but you have things to do and I have lunch due soon and a wet head !

Its all  bit strange here though because for the past 8 years Mum was on antidepressants that seem to muffle her moods a fair bit.  Crying was out of the norm.  This week I do a double take if Mum has not got tears streaming down her face.  She is terribly depressed for sure, but is she depressed because she is depressed ? ( Oliver Saks must be quaking in his boots at my psychoanalysis here)  or depressed because she has no medication in her now  ? Its a right old mess here. And without wishing to sound selfish, Mum's depression has rendered her incapable of being "on the ball". To the extent that Piggy stole my piece of buttered soldier dipped in boiled egg, after having eaten his own piece! Normally that would have meant a stern talking too, but today Piggy got off Scott-free. I was fuming, alright I got another piece of soldier , and a larger piece at that, but the point is, the boiled egg was all gone by then so there was no dipping for my soldier. Mum goes on and on about how simple and vulnerable Moonpig is. I glance across and I see him smiling to himself , rubbing his fat little hands with glee at what he gets away with.

High on the autistic-spectrum, but keeping my spirits up by stealing my brother's eggy-bread soldier

So, as I was saying... the swimming hat or the rain hat ?
Note I
Lord Velvet is a bit of a tool when it comes to using the litter tray.  He tends to stand in the area he just peed in, and then a large clump of the litter stick to his foot (usually back left) which he then distributes all around the room.  It is is super-fine litter, white in colour and I see Mum's knuckles go white sometimes when she goes in and for the eighth time in a row, sweeps it all up. But to be fair, the old fella is one month shy of his 20th birthday, and his assertion of being around for the 2012 Olympics, once seemed like a pipe-dream, now, more like a terrifyingly accurate prediction of the future.  I am in awe of him, although the amount of time it takes him to eat a meal is frankly ludicrous. And as for Irma ? Well she may be 17 but what excuse is that for trying to get in the house through a closed window ? Total berk !