Parky

I awoke this morning to a frantic phone call from my mother. My initial thoughts were that a. I had incurred another congestion charge fine or b. She had sat next to a lovely couple at dinner with a son who had visited my university once and did I know him and might I consider meeting/dating/marrying him within the next five years.
I was wrong on both counts because this morning’s call was in fact related to my grandmother, Parky. I have two grandmothers, one is a woman who my mother refers to as ‘pure evil,’ she uses the priory as a country club and takes so many pills she rattles. This is for no apparent reason, other than she is clinically selfish.
The other grandmother is Parky, named by some tasteless friends of mine with reference to the fact that she suffers from parkinsons disease…rather unfortunately, the nickname has stuck. Since moving out of our home and into a nursing home Parky’s behaviour has become steadily more erratic and consequently more amusing. It transpires that my mother had spent the whole morning in the home consoling the family of another patient.
Parky had decided to play a practical joke on this poor elderly man and had, after removing all of her clothes, hidden herself in said elderly man’s cupboard. Upon the gentleman’s return to his bedroom, Parky jumped out of the cupboard uttering gutteral screams, prompting the man to narrowly avoid a cardiac arrest.
Needless to say, the gentleman’s family were not impressed and Parky has been moved to a secure floor. I think I might be looking forward to my next visit more than usual.