Mothering Sunday has come and gone for another year, and yet again, MJ spoiled it by not showing up.
You should have seen her little face; the momentary expression betraying crushing disappointment. She rang, after she returned from church to find a text message saying "happy Mother's Day", only to be told that he 'wasn't feeling well'. His 'stomach was upset' (yet again).
So, no MJ.
She had gifts from me; her favourite folk tune carefully written out and played to her on my flute, then later I paid for a takeaway dinner (Chinese) and a strong drink (whisky). We also had a nice afternoon, playing games, walking the dog in her favourite place. We had fun. It was fun.
But all the while, I was aware of the undercurrent feeling of incompleteness that she was valiantly trying to hide from both me and herself. MJ wasn't there. And deep down, that was what she really wanted. Her son.
He knew that. All he had to do was show up. Just for a few hours. All he had to do was show up and say "happy Mother's Day" to her face, play a game of scrabble, smile a bit, then leave; duty done.
But he didn't.
Why? Well, maybe - MAYBE - he genuinely was ill. He's used the excuse so often, both truthfully and lying through his teeth, that we can no longer tell. Odds are, however, that this alleged bout of stomach flu was actually (yet again) code for 'can't be arsed'.
Even now, days later, that image keeps popping into my mind.
Of her little face.
Her crushed, disappointed little face.
ANNOYANCE 2.
MJ needs to decorate his flat. It is a requirement that the council has now for tenants; they provide paint, brushes etc. at their own expense, and you decorate.
As you may expect, given past reading on the subject of my brother, this has not yet been done.
The checks happen between April and June. At the previous inspection the year before (yep, he's had THAT LONG to deal with this) the apparent lack of effort was mentioned, and then dropped at MJ's own mention of evidence of mold in the bathroom. Three months later, after a few phonecalls, the mold was treated. Three months after that, with Mother's help, my slovenly Brother set about a deep clean of the apartment which took several days. As soon as that was completed, the decorating was due to begin. And (again, unsurprisingly), the excuses started immediately.
Cue months later - of course, the flat is a state again by now - and on the first afternoon of the first day of my holiday (you remember me? The sibling that works for a living?), over to his flat we trooped. I'll spare you all the details, but suffice to say, despite efforts of Mother and I, not a lot got done.
And so it has been for two weeks. Every day, either practically no progress, or no progress at all because he cancels due to being 'ill'. And I am aware that this has got absolutely sod all to do with me, really, but the problem is that it is upsetting Mother, and the upset is increasing daily, and I hate Mother being upset. So I am upset.
So there. Two upsets.
There are more, but they are all linked to the above, and I don't any ranting time left.
Thanks for reading, anyway.
Sorry to moan.
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