If Anna has no sense of time, how come she always wait for Saturday to ask for her doctor?

I say, ‘I will phone the surgery on Monday.’

For two hours she has been asking to see her doctor and I have been giving the same answer. So she says to me: ‘why do you keep repeating yourself?’

She’s right. Telling her the surgery is closed is maddening. ‘It’s mad. What are you doing on me?’
‘I’m doing what I can.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Why would I lie?’
‘Because you don’t like me.’

She paces up and down, incoherent with rage. During the week she is always asking for me. I look forward to Saturday mornings, thinking we can have a quiet time together, but it doesn’t work out like that. For two hours we circle round, in the room, in our conversations.

‘You won’t do what I tell you.’
‘I will phone …’

I begin to regret the things I was looking forward to. Anna’s friend Mike has sent us some jokes. My son Jake is just going on a six week Buddhist retreat. Well at least he’s not sitting around doing nothing. Thank you, Mike. I got a package in the post today. On the outside was printed, Photographs – do not bend. Underneath was scrawled, Oh yes, they do. Anna keeps asking for the doctor. I hang on for the carer to come back. The phone goes: the carer is delayed.

A man goes to the vet and the vet says: ‘Open your mouth and say Ahh.’
‘Why?’
‘Your dog’s died.’

Nothing seems to be going right today. The carer arrives to say that an old lady is very ill, suffering in the heat, and she has had to call out the doctor ….