In other news

Social services have got back to us telling us they'll be working on respite care for Nana and maybe even a permanant solution (ummm... that sounded a lot more homicidal nazi-ish than intended, I mean looking at a permanant place in a care home of some kind).

They've give us medicine to give her which will arrest the deterioration, possibly. Dad has been giving it to her for the last week.

When I next see the nice social care lady I may throttle her. I don't know WHAT the drug is (mental note: quiz padre on this) but we have had a whole new RECORD of lunacy this past week.

2 nights ago I could NOT get her to go to bed. It was like dealing with a whining 5 year old! "I want a drink of water." Water's right there. "Oh, I want to go to the toilet." Well go then, you don't need me to show you! "I want a drink of water!" You just had one... Every time I started to leave she called out again. 2 freaking hours! Gah, my goddaughters are easier to deal with!

And yesterday I had to leave work to put down a panic (I've never had to leave work before - we've always had aunts and uncles and cousins to help - but that's the problem, our support net is crumbling!) and no matter how sympathetic the SPs are about it, cancelling most of the day at no notice when you had several appointments and looking deadlines is NOT idea (thank gods I wasn't due in court). She was wandering around outside (she hardly ever wonders!) and the neighbour found her saying she'd come home from school and her mum and dad weren't there.

Dad has his own tales of lunacy to tell. We thought she'd stopped calling me and him but it seems she just can't dial the right number any more and she's driving anyone with similar numbers to us batty. And she insisted that a tube of toothpaste was her face cream and would NOT be told and would NOT stop applying it. Well, she has minty fresh skin now, I guess.

There's a letter on her house from the police (what?!) ordering the council to repair her broken back door as a matter of urgency since "the elderly inhabitant cannot gain entry or egress." It's vaguely threatening (though towards the council it seems). We have NO idea where it's come from or why - the dooris absolutely fine, none of us have contacted the council and certainly not the police. She can't have done it - I mean, how is she going to call the council? This is a woman who can have a 10 minute conversation with the dial tone! Oh and she put her stuffed cat out for the night. She's never had a cat. But she says her brother did it (dead these past 17 years). He was probably the one who pinned her curtains to the wall to stop any light getting out (black out rules, y'know).

So, nice social service people. This medicine? Is it actually a psychadelic drug? Are we part of some kind of testing program we didn't know about? Or is this a way to extract some kind of perverse amusement from us? Because, hey, it's funny - after the fact and when you don't have to deal with it.

And on a lighter note:

Stolen meme-age:
You are in a mall when zombies attack. You have:
1. One weapon
2. One song blasting on the speakers
3. One famous person to fight along side you

1) I know shotguns and chainsaws are traditional zombie fighting equipment, but one has to wonder how many zombies there are? If we're talking a shuffling horde then you've only got so much ammo/power for the chainsaw (and the splatter? These are dead people, that can't be hygienic). And in Britain where am I going to find fresh ammo? Sure those computer games have convenient shotgun shells left in every dustbin but I doubt if even the most gun-nutty corner of America has that much convenient ammunition lying around. So I'm going to stick to a biiig melee weapon for convenient hacking.

2) I'd probably want some nice techno dance/trance music to get me in the zombie killer zone. Anything by Eric Prydz or Darude would be good. Or something completely inappropriate and wrong like the Best of Eurovision or Aqua or some teenybopper crap. C'mon can't you imagine hacking your way through the living dead while "I'ma Barbie Girl" blasts out?

3) Well first of all i wouldn't want ANYONE famous. That's suicidal. They're famous, I'm not. That makes me the extra, right? Oh yes, that's going to lengthen my life expectancy. So I'd want someone who's very very very Z-list (maybe a Big Brother contestant) who is more likely to be killed off than me (Jade Goodie would be perfect. I could wound her and watch the zombies chow down) OR an ethnic minority (because the black guy ALWAYS dies first in those films - which is good fodder for a rant about racism in film to take at a later date) or at least Orlando Bloom - sure I'll die first but if it's a gay version of your classic hetero horror film it won't be until AFTER we've had sex, so that's some consolation, yes?

And no Englishmen if they are classicly trained actors or have decently proper accents - they're always bad guys who will double cross me.



(And yes, this meme is brought to you by the drunken film guessing game: where one guesses who's going to die next (ethnic minority - because if you don't kill 'em off quickly you may have to develop an actual role for them unless they're providing comic relief or couple/woman who has just had sex - because sex is BAAAD and everyone knows that if you aren't abstinent before marriage you get killed by a serial killer. The Bible says so. Maybe. Especially if you're a woman - everyone knows an intact hymen is the only way to survive an axe murderer) Who the bad guy is (English. Always. Occasionally other European, but usually a classicly trained British actor. If Sir Ian McKellen, Christopher Lee or Alan Rickman are present this is just no contest at all. Coincidentally 3 men I consider extremely sexy without being sexually attractive. Guess I have a thing for villains).