Aged auntie died

You know how they talk about the squeezed generation - those people who have aged  relatives getting doddery and still have children to bring up. Well they ought to call it the hugged generation because your children hug you and your aged relatives need you. But I'm no longer the hugged generation because my children are quite grown up and the last of my older relatives has gone. Aunty Eileen died in the middle of this month of March after too many bugs in her increasingly frail body.
Here are some links to when I blogged about her:

• Setting up my power of attorney for her: http://ejh2.blogspot.co.uk/2009/03/legalities-and-paperwork.html
• Dealing with council officials: http://ejh2.blogspot.co.uk/2009/12/sheltered-housing-and-councils.html
• Bringing her and my parents to our house for Xmas: http://ejh2.blogspot.co.uk/2009/12/driving-ocotgenarians.html
• Bureaucratic banks: http://ejh2.blogspot.co.uk/2010/01/boo-to-bureaucratic-banks.html
• Confusing conspirations: http://ejh2.blogspot.co.uk/2010/08/conspirations-to-confuse.html
• Visiting for Xmas: http://ejh2.blogspot.co.uk/2010/12/travelling.html
• Support plans: http://ejh2.blogspot.co.uk/2012/02/crumbs-and-buns.html
• Caring people: http://ejh2.blogspot.co.uk/2013/08/ageing-aunty.html
• Things and stuff: http://ejh2.blogspot.co.uk/2012/02/memories-are-made-of-stuff.html
• Stoic: http://ejh2.blogspot.co.uk/2014/12/lifes-not-good.html
• Pets, or not: http://ejh2.blogspot.co.uk/2016/09/aged-auntys-cat.html

Now I'm drafting an eulogy for her funeral next weekend. What should I write?

Eileen and her big brother, Joe

Visiting Ireland with her parents, 1947

She had a wicked sense of humour

Bridesmaid at Joe & Jean's wedding, 1950

Aged aunty's cat

Aged aunty loves animals but where she now lives in sheltered accommodation does not allow pets. Some time ago, passing this carpet shop, I saw this cat in in the window, a sleeping marmalade cat, comfy on the carpet. But it's a model cat, made of cardboard and rabbit fur! I found where to get one and took him up to aunty last time I went. When she was looking the other direction, I placed him on her sofa then stood away.
"How did he get there?" she startled! He is so life like that he gives her a lot of pleasure. She's named him 'Marmalade' and placed in a corner where she won't trip over him, but she can see him sleeping in the sun. Now she tells me on the phone that she has the cat, that he sleeps an awful lot, and that she's introduced him to people who visit, and his name is... "just a moment while I think ... Marmalade!"

Dolls

My godmother made this brown cloak for my doll, Susan, many years ago. The cloak must have shrunk because now it fits only Marigold. The corners are gone because my Aunty Grace's dog, Kim, chewed one of them, and Aunty Grace mended it by making them match. The stitches are tiny.

I still have my godmother, but Aunty Grace has gone.

Aunty Grace's funeral

My much loved and beautiful Aunty Grace died in her sleep a week ago on Friday. She was an inspiration to single mothers because she had been widowed during the war.

She had a career as a chiropodist - she advised my mother on my flat feet. She was a haven from home, when my parents weren't around, somewhere else to go in the school holidays. In my twenties, she told me I could have her gold sleepers if I ever had my ears pierced, so within 24 hours I'd got her to take me to the jeweller's shop where they pierced my ears.

Aunty Grace has lots of grandchildren and even some great grandchildren too. She remarried in 1995, and that was a tale, because when she married her late husband's best man, she insisted that a woman of 80 couldn't be getting married, so they brought the wedding forward before her birthday.

They had the funeral and requiem mass for her today, and it was pleasant to meet her grandchildren and see how many of their neighbours were there too. She and her husband have neighbours who are been incredibly helpful and supportive for years. That's the big society - neighbours like theirs.

Grace was the eldest of four children. My mother mourned:

"I'm the only apple left on the tree"

Conspirations to confuse

Daughter and I skyped last night. She told me that auntie's district council had rung about some problem of aunty ringing people and asking them for money. Now it's sorted, I can see aunty would be confused

Preconditions
The previous tenant had speed dialing to a Jane C
Aunty rings a different Jane (G) to ask where her bank book is because she wants cash

Consequences
Jane C answers the phone, realises she has a confused old lady asking for money so warns the council.
Council check records for the person with legal power of attorney and rings me (or daughter because I'm not there)

Now we understand the problem, someone is going to aunty's to change the speed dial numbers.

Moral
Learn phone numbers by heart and don't use speed dial

Aunt's electricity

Sometimes these interactions with authorities on behalf of my aunt do work.

Aunt had a bill from Southern Electric - she doesn't remember getting her electricity from them, because she wasn't - she was getting her electricity from another provider when she lived somewhere else. So her memory's good there. But Southern Electric addressed the bill to the district council and was charging for the weeks when the flat was empty before she moved in.

So I decided to

1. set up a direct debit for the electricity
2. pay the extra rather than explain the whole situation in order to get the bill sent to the district council

But when I rang Southern Electric, Tracy wanted to sort out the name on the bill, to change it from the district council to my aunt's. So she passed me to Sean, who

• amended the bills to charge aunt only from the day she moved in
• changed the name on the bill
• took the district council address and will send the missing weeks bill to the council
• set up the direct debit
• arranged the bills to come to me, not aunt
  

I'm well pleased with the service.

Aunty's post

Aunt's post is still coming to her old address, so my father asked me to get it forwarded. I went on-line - that's easy- see here. You have to give

• the old address,
  
• the new address,
  
• the date of the move,
  
• the date when you want to start forwarding,
  
• the old phone number for security
  
• the new phone number.

I can give aunt's phone number because if they ring her, the sort of question they ask, like

"have you moved?"

isn't going to confuse her, apart from

"why are they ringing me?"

But I fell at the last hurdle, because they want a payment card and it must be a card with the old address on, again for security, but it's months since she moved so the card has the wrong address on it. Besides which, it now has my address on it.

So I've passed the problem back to my dad, to fill in the form from the post office, which isn't terribly easy for him. It's a pity I didn't think to do it when I was up there a couple of weeks ago.

Insuring Aunty

Now I need to insure Aunty's contents in her sheltered accommodation, but that's not simple.

• one insurer said they'd wouldn't insure her because she's in sheltered accommodation and other people like the warden can access her room
• I rang the council to see if they do insurance but they've gone home for the weekend
• Tesco won't insure aunty's stuff over the phone unless they can speak to her first. They offered to ring her and then ring me back, which would be okay if someone were there with her so she's not confused by a phone call out of the blue.

I can insure her contents on the web and no one will know it's not me. I might have to do that.

Bumbling banks

It's taken five weeks to get telephone banking on Aunty's account.

1. I first went into the local bank and completed their form in January, after Lloyd's telephone service was so bureaucratically useless.
2. When I received the letter saying to ring to register, it wasn't easy, and I had to complete their form again.
3. Their letter arrived again today. So I rang to complete registration again. They passed me to a local branch, in the wrong county.
4. I rang again. They passed me to the right branch, but branches are not the place to complete a telephone registration.
5. I rang again. Alleluia! I got someone who knew what to do, and passed me to the person who could check their secret word, and set up a password.

Those three calls took only half an hour. If they'd got it right three weeks ago, the whole process should have taken less than ten minutes.

Pension credit

If you get pension credit, you don't have to pay rent for your sheltered housing. But the council first thought that aunty did have to pay her rent, so I set up a standing order to pay it. Then the assessment officer rang me, and said that she was getting credit, so she didn't have to pay the rent, The estates manager also wrote and told me to stop the standing order, and she'll send a cheque to pay back what was overpaid.

So now I've written to the bank again (I still can't ring them because they haven't set up the telephone account) to tell them to stop the standing order.

This is so confusing that it is no wonder aunty is confused.

Boo to bureaucratic banks

I've just made two phone calls about paying for aunty's new sheltered housing, one to a county housing office about rent, and one to a bank about paying things.

1. The county officer was helpful. :-) Despite already owing rent, she's going to send me forms, and will let the rent officer know, so they won't hassle aunty.
   
2. The bank phone call was automated. :-( It took two tries to get a human. He said he knew what Legal Power of Attorney was, but then told me to go into aunty's branch with a letter of authorisation from aunty, some id for me and some id of hers. I explained I couldn't go into her branch as I live a long way away. He didn't know where the two towns were. (How can you sound gormless? I always thought it was the way someone looked.) So tomorrow I'll go into the local branch armed with all the documentation and ask for what I want to run her account.
   

So which organisation was efficient and helpful? The public sector one or the private one? People malign the public sector, but it was the public organisation that was efficient, human, friendly and understood my problem, not the bank.

Boo to banks.

Terrible trio leave church

I took three of my favourite octogenarians to mass. Afterwards, coming out - well not coming out because I was till talking to me mum, who was telling me a story - which I now forget because I was distracted to see my Dad charging off. When he gets on the straight, his two sticks and two legs go,

tap tap tap tap.

He hared off down the aisle to the church door where a crowd would obstruct his way and he might topple. I abandoned mother and hared off after him - cleared the way and met Father J, our friendly parish priest that the door greeting people. I warned him that Dad couldn't let go of his sticks. Father J patted his shoulder in greeting and as I dashed out of the door to check Dad's way to the car, I warned Father to say his name to my mother as she wouldn't be able to see him!

With Aunty trotting docilely along behind us we arrived safely at the car. Dad fell into the front seat fairly gracefully. Mother wanted to go round to the far side on the road, and can more or less see the traffic but I went round to check. Then back to the pavement to close doors on Dad and Aunty, but where I found Aunty collapsed against the car. She was having a dizzy spell!

As we drove off, me Mum said that'd be the last Xmas that I'd invite four octogenarians. Well maybe in a couple of Christmases I'll have some nonagenarians to entertain me.

Xmas eve farce

Christmas starts:

• Mother has forgotten the spare batteries for her hearing aid.
• The flat roof above the visitor's room is leaking, so has dripped onto mother-in-law's bed all night.
• Aunty is cold.
• Husband is stressed.
  

Mother-in-law has spare hearing-aid batteries for mother. We've moved mother-in-law's bed, covered it with a plastic table cloth, put a bucket under the drip, and woken up teenager in the attic to go through her bedroom to shovel the snow off the darned damp roof!

In the sitting room we now have two radiators on and a halogen heater and a oil filled radiator.

We go and watch a pantomime this afternoon.

Lost keys

Aunty found the keys. She doesn't know where they were, but suddenly they were lying on her table in front of her.

Lost keys

Aunty's getting a new flat, but she's lost the keys already. I've been getting emails and phone calls asking which way we came back from looking at the flat because perhaps we dropped them on the way. Or

"have you put them in your handbag?"

I hope not - but I look anyway. I found a chocolate, which was nice, but no keys.

Where are the blessed keys?

Sheltered housing and councils

I've been visiting octogenarian relatives, partly because one, my auntie has seen a flat in a really nice set of sheltered housing, and wants to move in. This requires working with the district council that provides the housing. Neither relatives nor I have ever had to do that before, and I can't recommend the experience.

I turned up on Tuesday afternoon at two o'clock for a meeting with:

• the housing officer,
• two octogenarian relatives and
• a helpful friend who's done this before through his work with the St Vincent de Paul society.

The brief a relative had given me was that a bedsit was on offer, aunty had seen and liked it, and the meeting was about finance to decide how relative would pay. The council would tell us how much it would cost and we could work out what to do next.

However the housing officer had a different agenda. Apparently, she'd thought the friend who'd rung up to make the meeting had told her that relative was definitely taking the bedsit and would sign there and then.

We were all affronted because

1. the friend is a friend, so the officer had no authority given to her to assume the decision was made
2. at that stage none of us knew anything about the costs, not even how much the rent was.
   

The officer got louder and more agitated, announcing that it wasn't necessary to sign today, but that she had to go at three o'clock (it was a quarter past two). The meeting didn't get any better as we gradually elicited some information from her, but weren't allowed copies of the tenancy agreement to take away and read.

We all left at three without signing anything. We go back on Thursday.

Friend said he'd never been in such an awful meeting and he had some experience of meetings with the council. Aunty complained about the officer's loud voice. The council seemed to have no understanding of the needs of older people. Aunty can't think quickly enough to absorb the information yet this officer was reading the tenancy agreement very quickly. It seems the council expects aunty to sign on Wednesday and pay rent from next Monday. It's all very quick, and the meeting seemed as if aunty was being bulldozed, bludgeoned and bullied into making a decision and signing up to something without full information.

Fortunately, I'd got permission as soon as I'd arrived to record the meeting, so octogenarians could play it back later and listen to the information, ready for the Thursday meeting. In the meantime, I'll ask the CAB for advice on moving into council properties.