Of Matters Temporal and Temporary

It looks like I am not going to take sensible advice anytime soon.

“I think this could be a lot of work to keep it all going. Are you sure you want to carry on? Do you think you can?”

I had my son and his wife for a visit and a lovely time of almost endless talking it was. My voice was quite hoarse when they left. However, to qualify, we chatted for hours, with the exception of the time they spent clearing up more of those heaps of prunings, choppings down, clearings out and repair man’s leavings that I seem to collect nowadays. Only about six weeks after the previous five trips to the dump another three followed this time.

My daughter-in-law admired what she saw but there was a definite look of concern on her face. She hadn’t been to visit for a year at least and, not only did I become older by a year, but my house and garden haven’t shrunk in that time. Even worse, my gardening obsession has returned and, my knees having become stiffer, my energy levels lessened and my old codgerdom having increased, she had every right to express doubt in my general ability to continue my slightly head-in-the-sand attitude. For the knees I have bought a kneeler: it is not too difficult for me to get down on my knees, it’s the getting up again that’s the problem. The kneeler has two upright handles which allow me to heave myself up quite easily. I combat the energy loss by working for short, hour-long, bursts and taking a rest in between. As for the old codgerdom I try to make a virtue out of it; I quite enjoy looking helpless and asking all those nice men who come to do jobs, and even neighbours, for assistance.

I believe that my d-i-l’s concern is genuine, not the ”let’s-put-mum-out-of-her-misery-and-put-her-in-a-nice-home-for-the-elderly" syndrome. Not at all. She did, however, while we were sitting idly not watching a TV show neither of us was interested in, look around and remark on the ’stuff’ I have. The full book shelves, china and glass cupboards, pictures, rugs, ornaments, CDs, vinyl, DVDs, etc; all the stuff one has around and hardly uses. And that was just one room. I could see she was really bothered, which in itself was unusual for me; nobody has been concerned for me in any way for years, maybe even decades. My own son has only recently started to ask “Are you alright, Mum?"

“What do you want done with it all?” she asked.
I was puzzled. “Done with it?”

“Yes, all this stuff that you value and enjoy and then somebody comes and takes it away, and your whole life just disappears."

I think she was thinking of so-called house-clearers who bring a van, tell you they’ll take it all away if you just pay them a few hundred pounds and skedaddle.

It appears she was worried about the two of them, after my demise (which she hoped wasn’t for a long long time yet), having to descend instantly, sort out and dispose of, and vacate the house almost the day after the funeral. Come to think of it, the funeral too was a problem, had I made any arrangements?

Poor d-i-l, she was thinking of her own parents after their death, when she and her sisters laughed and cried and reminisced while clearing out the former home. There are three of them to support each other. I think she was comparing their situation with mine, as she imagines it, solitary, unregarded and neglected and unloved by the very few family left. She only relaxed when I told her about the facts and procedures of probate (which I also hope won’t be necessary for a long, long time yet) and that there will be no need to vacate the house until after that complicated process has been finalised.

Her visit has made me think. She is quite right, I must go back over arrangements made years ago; I have actually been meaning to make changes to my will for some time now. Then there are unofficial bequests of bits of furniture, jewellery, books, etc. Charitable donations need decisions. And maybe I should appoint a second executor, the one named now is getting a bit old himself. And as I am going to live for a long long time yet, he might be senile by the time I pop my clogs.

However, regarding what started this all off, my daughter-in-law’s musings about house and garden and all things temporal and temporary, I say this: good advice is always welcome, but what you do with it is up to you. You only ever ask for advice when you already know the answer, having already made up your own mind anyway and all you are really asking the other person is to confirm your own decisions.

Having ordered a load of large plants like two Italian cypresses, a couple of bamboos, a mahonia, and a hydrangea, from a wholesale supplier on the internet, would confirm my decision: I am not giving up gardening and garden designing anytime soon.