27) He was doing WHAT?? The boiler man and all the others.

 

A blog about the daughter (me) of an extreme hoarder parent who's 95 and extremely frail. He has many health problems and now sleeps a lot. Meanwhile I’m running around like a blue-arsed fly trying to sort out his bank, HMRC, a boiler service, a drain repair, new  windows (his current ones were installed in the 1980s and although they are double glazed, they have wooden frames and have misted up badly, a nurse visit, 3 hospital appointments and shopping trips. I'm afraid I’m losing the plot.

This is 'Christmas' the poor starving and skeletal (ahem)  woodpigeon, who didn't get the brief this year from the RSPB saying we're not supposed to feed wild birds from 1st May until 1st October due to some bird disease transmitted by bird feeding tables. This has nothing to do with the blog...

I went round to the house last week unannounced as I was passing. Dad and Ant were nowhere to be seen so I went inside. I found dad asleep on top of his bed and heard Ant in the bathroom. Ant began to panic 'Oh no, you've ruined the surprise, he'll be angry. Ant started to have a panic attack. 'Dad Dad Izabelle's here...'

Dad started to stir 'What's going on? What's happening?' 

Ant pointed out they were fitting a new shower - they appeared to have done the pipework and were trying to fit the shower to the wall but hadn't managed to get the shower onto the keyhole shaped hole. I got into the bath and stepped onto the stool in the bath to see if I could get it in. I couldn't do it either.

Dad appeared saying he'd had to go to lie down as he was shattered as they'd been doing the shower for 2 hours. He wanted to look. 'Help me get my legs over the side will you Ant.' he said. I watched as Ant lifted one leg, then the other over the side of the bath and then help him onto the stool. I was horrified. Dad was shouting at Chris that he had 'spoiled the surprise'. Apparently dad had wanted to show me he was still quite capable of doing what he'd always done and now the surprise was ruined and he was blaming Ant and Ant was having a panic attack.

I think I have blanked the incident out because I really don't know what to do. If I get a tradesman it will take a while - this is a bank  holiday weekend and dad will be furious and take it out on Ant. I hate to be taking their independence away from them but I'm really horrified.

Among many other things dad has asked me to do for him recently, is to find someone to have his boiler serviced. As anyone over the age of fifty probably knows, time appears to speed up as you get older, you are horrified to find things you thought happened ' a month or so ago' were actually four years ago... or more...

Dad says his boiler has been installed for about four years, and now needs its annual service. I rang the supplier who say the boiler installation warranty was registered in 2017. The last service was 2020.  I rang the guy who installed it in early April. He said he was free the following week Thursday or Friday. Fabulous. I said I would check with Dad when was convenient and call him the next day. 

I called back the next day to book and the engineer asked the address. There was a silence. 'Hello'... 

'Ah yes' he said 'erm, I'm on site at the moment without a pen could you call me tomorrow morning.

I called him the next day. He said 'Ah, yes. Sorry I don't have a pen and I'm on a building site. COuld you call me next week.

I called the next week, the guy says he's free Friday and then changes his mind. He says he has a few contract jobs he has to complete. Can I call next week.  

I called the following Wednesday. He says he's awfully sorry but as he's been so busy, him and his wife have booked a 2 week holiday and won't be back until 2 weeks time. I say I will call him then. It's not mega urgent as it is a service not a breakdown. I also have doctor appointments, a drain issue, new windows to get sorted and everything else dad has put on the back burner for a the past I don't know how long. Dad asks me every day what's happening.

I call the guy after the 2 week 'holiday'. He tells me he will call me when he has his diary.

The following morning I have a call on my way to work on hands free while I'm driving. The reception isn't good. He says something about being called in for a knee operation he has been on the list for and he will be out of action for 6 months. 

Right!  Sometimes I can't believe how naive I am. It's now so obvious the guy just didn't want to go to the house - plain and simple. I understand that - and I understand the reasons. Trust me, if I didn't have to go to the house, I wouldn't go either but FFS he has strung me along like the trusting idiot I so clearly am when he should have just said he wasn't available/didn't want to do it.  As it was I had to try to palm my dad off with his bullshit and excuses and try to explain why he hasn't come yet when he asked me to sort it months ago. 

He wasn't the only tradesman to do this to me - people who promise to call round and don't. I have to make sure I'm there when they come in case he doesn't hear the bell or is asleep. I KNOW he is awkward, cantankerous, obnoxious, narcissistic, rude, picky, stubborn, thinks he knows everything and is an unpleasant character at the best of times but by lying to me, these tradesman make my life harder.

And it's hard enough at the moment.

(26) Karen Bashing activities- (sorry if you're a genuinely nice person whose name is Karen). Don't push me.

 

A blog about my current life. I'm the adult daughter of an extreme hoarder. He is 95, very frail, he has oesophagael cancer is very hard of hearing and has cataracts. He is also the most obnoxious, bad tempered, impatient, rude man I have ever met. Please don't think this part is recent - he's always been like that. It makes it very hard to be the patient, kind and loving daughter society expects me to be. I run round like a blue-arsed fly trying to possibly make things safe at his house and take him places he needs to go. I live eight miles away and have a job and family of my own. Slowly but surely, I’m losing the plot.

         Afterwards I went into the woods for an hour. The Bluebells are gorgeous right now.

Despite taking dad to Morrisons on Tuesday (today is Saturday) while he fannyed about trying to spend £30 so he could get £5 off, he somehow forgot the twatting voucher and managed to guilt trip me into going today.  He rang me last night and said his voucher expired on Sunday and if I couldn't take him he supposes he'd have to see if he could get someone else to take him... He is well aware I live 8 miles away and Morrisons is 3 miles from him so a round trip of 22 miles. My time and diesel are never taken into consideration. On the way I filled his petrol can up with unleaded for his lawnmower £9.11. I took the can and put it outside the back door. I said it was £9.11. 'What for one can?' he said. Since he's stopped driving he has no idea what anything costs.

We got outside Morrisons - dad, Ant (my brother) and me but there were no disabled bays to park Freddie in. I dropped them both outside Morrisons doorway and they shuffled inside. Eventually I saw a car pulling out of a disabled bay so I waited patiently - we'd need the bay after the shopping. As I prepared to move into the bay, I spotted a large karen-like creature, wedged into a white Range Rover Vogue. We locked eyes. She was daring me to park in the only space. I parked in the only space. She abandoned the Chelsea tractor and stormed over as I got out. Bear in mind I'd just had an hour of dad and was facing an iminent shopping experience with him too..  I'm a woman on the edge. 

'Do you have the RIGHT to park y'ere' she says, coz she's a bit common. 

'I do' I replied, stuck my nose in the air and strode off with an exaggerated spring in my step. 

'Where's your badge?' She demanded, loudly. I ignored her (the badge was in the window from the trip to Lidl 10 mins before).  'Oh excuse me! EXCUSE ME...' She yelled after me. I may have actually told her in an unofficial sign language that she'd said that twice... 

I walked into Morrisons and found Imelda faffing at the bread display, squidging each loaf with his bony fingers. About five minutes later Karen appeared with a member of staff, pointing me out. I grabbed dad's arm and smiled sweetly while the member of staff said something curtly to her and walked off leaving her all wound up with nowhere to go. Her face was a picture.

The shopping lasted 45 minutes today as I took charge of the adding up and he used his voucher. I took him home.

I went for a long walk in the woods on the way home to sit by myself with the trees and the birds and the bluebells afterwards which calmed me down a lot.

(25) Morrisons - you can stick your voucher where the sun don't shine.

In their wisdom the folk at Morrisons have been distributing their marketing mags through the door of unsuspecting folk in the neighbourhood.  The magazine has a £5 off when you spend £25 or £6 when you spend £30.

Dad had one through his door.

Dammit!

It's not the voucher that's the problem, more that I have to take him shopping as he doesn't trust me to go for him, yes I have offered. I can't take him on my own so I take him and Ant as Ant knows what brand, how many and what he may have forgotten.

So, I have to drive seven miles to pick them up. I then have to wait 45m for him to get ready and ask me stupid questions like would I like a box for his shopping (like he's doing me a favour). We then fiddle with his seatbelt and make sure the car door is closed and off we go.

We park, get a trolley for him to lean on and Ant shoots off with it, eager to get the ordeal over with. I call Ant back and give the trolley to dad who holds on to it. They have made a list (hurrah), however, the list bears NO resemblance to the layout of the store so I get my 3000 steps in trying to work out the quickest route.

Dad shuffled off to try to 'spend at least £25 plus a little bit more so we can use the voucher'

They find a stand with reduced Easter Eggs on - 'ALL £1.50' the foot high, neon sign screams for the 200 or so eggs left on the stand, probably because Cadburys has decided to abandon its glass and a half advertising faff and replace it with palm oil, which surprisingly, they haven't advertised at all.

'D'you work here?' he asked the man in the Morrisons uniform. Without waiting for an answer 'How much are these eggs?' He bought 3.

He then shuffled over to the milk 'Which one do we usually get Ant?'

'The blue one.' said Ant, loudly.

'What? he snapped with an evil snarl. 

'The BLUE one...' Ant handed him a blue top milk, adding 'They're 2 for £4.'

'What? he snapped again. Ant pointed to the sign. Dad wrote it down.

I won't bore you with the rest of the intricacies of the shopping trip but it was a good three hours before we all got home. Yes he did hit his £25 but he'd forgotten to bring the twatting voucher, clearly having lost it in the house somewhere.  

I'm keeping my fingers crossed he can't find the bloody thing before it expires or I'll be guilt tripped into going again so he can spend it.

I'm Right! He called me just now. He's found the #*&#ing voucher and it expires on Sunday so he wants me to take him. So on my weekend off drive 8 miles, wait for him as he's never ready then take mim 3 miles back to morrisons. Wait 3 hours for him to faff then take him 3 miles home and drive 8 miles back to my house. Ant will have to come too so 3 people 3 hours 22miles to spend a *&#*ing voucher £5 off when you spend £25. Morrisons I hate you.

24) Easter - a religious occasion - or not!

A blog about myself, daughter of an extreme hoarder parent, aged 95, who fell over on Christmas Day 2025, breaking 3 ribs. He was in hospital 9 weeks and is now home. He has terminal oesophageal cancer, kidney function issues, asthma, diabetes, skin cancer cataracts and is extremely hard of hearing. Meanwhile his narcissism, and controlling behaviour, downright nastyness and sense of entitlement runs wild. I have some stupid sense of duty which means I’m running around like a blue-arsed fly trying to make things safe at his house and get his prescriptions, take  him to many doctor and hospital appointments, take him shopping and sort out his boiler service, and tradesmen and everything else. I have a job and family of my own. Slowly but surely, I’m losing the plot.

 

I took dad shopping 8 days ago to Morrisons where he bought 5 chocolate eggs. 

I had asked him Why 5 and he said 3 for my kids (in their 20s now), one for me and my partner and one for himself, in case nobody else got him any. I'm not sure where poor Ant came into his calculations.

He's been calling me every few days asking me to pay a bill, get an estimate for work or do something else for him and each time he asks 'Will I be seeing you over Easter?' I've replied I'd see what I could do. I live eight miles away, not too far but I seem to be over there about 4 times a week already and each time is extremely stressful. EXTREMELY stressful. Currently just walking through the door makes my blood pressure rise.

Easter was no different. I went round on Easter Day after he'd been to church to take him and Ant a chocolate egg each.

For the sake of it I asked all 3 of my kids if they wanted to come to visit grandad. They all said an emphatic 'Not a &$&$&$&$ chance you've got to be ****ing joking. Sorry mum No way!'

Having already told them when they were 13/14 that I'd never force them to see him once they turned 18, I had to respect their wishes.

I went alone.

I turned up at his house and gave him and Ant the eggs. 'Happy Easter,' I said.

'Right', he said, looking at the eggs with his judgy eye. 'Right!' The first part of the annual egg swapping was done and he was satisfied.

As far as I was concerned that was it. I'm not a child any more and don't care if I receive an egg from him or not. In fact I'd prefer to just skip all the faff to be honest and buy myself a bar of Galaxy and not have to feel like I'm being judged. However Ant appreciates having a chocolate egg and so we do the egg swapping palaver. 

'Are you by yourself?' dad asked, although it was clearly obvious I was.

'Yes.' I said, although I felt the answer wasn't necessary and was merely a springboard for the speech I could feel him brewing.

I was right 'Well no chocolate eggs for them then if they aren't here.' he said, in a kind of what do you think of that kind of tone.

'OK' I said.

It wasn't the answer he anticipated.

'Well because if they can't be bothered to come and see their grandad at Easter, they don't deserve to be given eggs!' he said.

'OK,' I repeated.

'Well, don't you agree?' he said, pushing his point and trying hard to push my patience.

'Dad, I don't care. Really. If you don't want to give them eggs, it's fine.'

'Right then. No eggs for them this Easter!'

'OK. It's up to you dad. If that's what you want!'

I wasn't playing ball so he needed a different tactic.

He thought for a moment, 'Easter is an extremely important day in the Christian calendar and I think you'll agree they haven't been brought up particularly well regarding the important dates for the church!'

Woah! Now he was questioning my parenting skills. He was questioning my parenting skills... the cheeky twat!

'Dad. Don't start preaching at me. My kids are fully aware of the significance of Easter and all the other dates important to the church. They're all adults now and so it's their choice whether they want to acknowledge and celebrate those dates as they see fit.'

'So why aren't they here then?'

What? What on earth was he talking about - he was clearly just baiting me for a reaction. Much as I was tempted to tell him it was because they didn't want to see him. Ever. I can't say that and feel good about it.

I told him they were in University in Swansea.

'Well if they don't come to see me then they don't get any eggs. I'll keep them here.' He said it like it was a threat or like he wanted me to beg for them.

'Fine!' I said, 'They're all over 20 now dad, they really won't mind about the eggs. It's not a big deal.'

'Right!' he spat, yelling and thumping his fist on the kitchen table as if he was telling me some huge important point. 'I'll bloody keep the bloody eggs and throw them in the bloody bin or eat them myself!.'

'Whatever! I said. I don't care. Keep your stupid eggs, and stop with the yelling or I'm going home.'

Don't you want your egg?' he said sarcastically.

'If it means I have to put up with your attitude and you yelling at me, then no, you can keep the damn thing. I'm going.

When he'd thumped his fist on the table, the egg he was about to ceremoniously present to me (a Maltesers egg), fell to the floor. As I turned to leave before I did or said something I regretted, he kicked the egg across the kitchen floor. 'Don't walk off again girl damn you!' he yelled as I shut the door and left.

Happy Easter Everyone.

22) Hide the Axe

A blog about myself, daughter of an extreme hoarder parent who fell over on Christmas Day 2025 and broke 3 ribs. He came out 9 weeks later... 

                                         Found in a box - newspaper from 1987 - 39 years ago.

Since he came home, he's been calling me, asking about taking him shopping and to his numerous hospital appointments almost every night since I took him home from the hospital.

On Thursday I went for a meal out with a friend after work and went to his house afterwards, even though I'd had a lovely night, his house was about 5m away from the dinner venue so I nipped in.

After pleasantries - me asking him how he was and him ignoring me and then telling me about his problems, I told his there was an antiques valuation company coming to Cardiff in a week or so and I wondered if he'd let me take a few of his items to be valued.

'WHAT!?' he snapped. I repeated myself three times.

'Something about a dog...?' he said staring at me as if I had just crawled from under a rug.

'No dad, I can take stuff to have it valued for you.' 

He carried on staring at my mouth long after I'd stopped talking, with an expression of annoyance and irritation. I looked away; I can't look at him when he does that.

'What d'you want me to do about it?'

Figuring he couldn't hear, I repeated, louder. 'I'd like to have some of your stuff valued by a dealer.'

He frowned and glared at me. 'Why can't you speak to me without shouting. I can't understand when you shout...'

'I tried that first but...'

'When you shout it just sounds loud and nasty and I can't understand...'

'OK dad I'll talk slower for you - the valuation people are comin...'

'Stop mumbling. I don't know what you're talking about when you...'

I grabbed the whiteboard and got my pen out. He flung his hands up in despair; 'Oh DON'T write everything down, dammit what's WRONG with you girl? Just speak properly.'

I finished writing and passed him the whiteboard. While he was reading it, I spoke to Ant, asking him if he knew where various antiques were. Ant had a fair idea, but there were different parts of different pieces all over the house.

While we were talking together, Dad piped up 'Do you remember your Aunty May?'

'Yes. Why?' I asked.

'Well she had a very nasty, malicious and vindictive streak and I rather fear you two may have inherited it!'

Ant and I looked at each other in dismay - where did this come from?

'What d'you mean dad?' I asked him, wondering why he'd say such a thing.

'Well,' he said 'you both have nasty and vindictive traits, and I suspect you have inherited them.'

What the heck? 'I asked for examples, but he pretended he hadn't heard. I asked again.

He threw his arms in the air 'Oh DON'T you start now, I've got enough on my plate. Don't you realise I've just come out of hospital, girl. Why must you treat me like this?' He was playing the victim now, and as for calling me 'girl', well that was never going to end well really.

'Dad, you can't say something like that without examples. Give me an example. What're you talking about? That's a horrible thing to say.'

'See - you're doing it now and you can't even see it!'

Luckily the axe was in the shed as my fuse is miniscule right now. I said, 'I'm not letting you speak to me any more like that. No way! I'm going home!'

'He stood up and shouted as best as he was able to me, 'Don't you DARE leave the room!.'

I carried on walking, and as I got to the main door he yelled 'HERE!' in the way you may raise your voice loudly to a disobedient dog.

I said a few things which I won't repeat here, and went out to my car and sat in it shaking, furious and just trying to calm down before I drove off.  Ant scuttled out, clearly having a panic attack so I got him to sit in the car. He was trying to apologise for dad's behaviour and I apologised for shouting in front of him but I wasn't going to put up with being treated like that any more. Ant said Dad always spoke to him like that. He ate one of his sweets he always carries with him, to calm him down.

A figure appeared at the door of the house. 'Dad wants to say something,' said Ant seeing him there. 

'Whatever he has to say, I don't want to hear it!' I said.

Ant said he'd just check and went to the house, returning shortly after with something in his hand.

'Dad says can you sew up his pyjamas for him by the fly and he needs the legs taken up two inches...'

No words.

21) They have Released him. - Here we go... and the personal alarm system

A blog about myself, daughter of an extreme hoarder parent who fell over on Christmas Day 2025 and broke 3 ribs. He’s currently in hospital thinking he can come home soon... He has terminal oesophageal cancer, kidney function issues, a bladder and a chest infection, asthma, diabetes, skin cancer and he’s 95. Meanwhile I’m running around like a blue-arsed fly trying to make things safe at his house for when he is released, yet being acutely aware he has an uncanny ability to know if anything’s missing and he won’t be pleased if it is. I have a job and family of my own. Slowly but surely, I’m losing the plot.

                                                    The Telecare device (similar)

They have finally released him. I collected him from the hospital on 24th Feb and delivered him home.

On the way home, he asked why we were going the direct route home as he wanted to go to the shops, although he'd not thought to mention this to me before.

Ant told him we'd already done the shopping. He didn't understand - how could we possibly have already done it, we being mere children?

Certain things had to be in place for them to release him - a personal alarm he'd wear on his person, either like a watch on his wrist or as a pendant round his neck. Should he fall and need help he'd press the button on the alarm and the operators call the house, if he's in the garden, to alert Ant, if Ant wasn't there, it would call me.  I'd then have to go to the house from wherever I happen to be, just to check he's OK and hasn't pressed the button in error. I live 25 minutes away.

The hospital had told him originally needed to speak to a dietician first, but the doctor overrode this, saying he'd already seen 3 dieticians and had ignored them all.

When we got him home, he walked into the kitchen, not noticing the HUGE amount of work that had been done in the house. He sat down and I showed him the helpline device. 

'Be VERY careful you don't press the button in error,' I said. I put the device on his wrist.

'How does it work?' he asked, poking it.

WAHWAHWAHWAHWAHWAHWAH The alarm went off, very loudly. I ran into the living room to tell the operator we were very sorry but he must have accidentally pressed it and set it off. They were very understanding and cancelled the alarm.

He wanted to know where the main unit was - he went into the living room to see it. It had been plugged into the only empty plug socket by the door, and was sitting atop 3 boxes of junk behind the door. 'Well it's no good there is it?' he said. ' What if I need to tidy up a bit and move the boxes?'

Really?

On front of the unit was a BIG button lit up in red. You couldn't miss it. I told him if he was in trouble in the house he just needed to press the button to speak to someone in the control room. He went to grab the unit. 'What is it?'

'DON'T touch the button Dad,' I said, 'Or it will go off and alert the...'

WAHWAHWAHWAHWAHWAHWAH 

'What's that noise?' he asked. 'What the hell's going on?'

'Dad, you pressed the red button. I said not to...'

'What red button? I don't know anything about a red button. What's going on?'

🫤

That evening Ant called me - Dad had been going for a lie down at about 8pm and had set off the alarm from his wrist device.  He was upstairs in bed and he couldn't hear the alarm - although it is a LOT louder than a house smoke alarm. Ant had sorted it with the operator but so far Ant hasn't left the house and left him alone yet.

                                                                                            

20) They're going to release him. Help!

 

A blog about myself, daughter of an extreme hoarder parent who fell over on Christmas Day 2025 and broke 3 ribs. He’s 95 and currently in hospital thinking he can come home soon... He has terminal oesophageal cancer, kidney function issues, a bladder and a chest infection, asthma, diabetes, skin cancer. Meanwhile I’m running around like a blue-arsed fly trying to fight the hoard and make things safe at his house in case he gets sent home, yet being acutely aware he will have an uncanny ability to know if anything’s missing and he won’t be pleased. I have a job and family of my own. Slowly but surely, I’m losing the plot.

                                                          Above - Before House entrance

                                                                            After 4 hours

Dad rang me, Monday evening 16th February at 9pm from the ward reception desk.

'Izabelle. Izabelle? Is this Izabelle? Yes? Izabelle?...'

'Yes. Hello Dad.'

'It IS you. Is it? Izabelle?'

'IT'S ME DAD. Yes Izabelle.'

'Ah! OK. The good news is they think I'm OK to come home...'

If that was the good news, then what was the bad? I didn't ask.

'OK. When are they going to let you out?'

'Well they didn't say...'

Either way I had to go round the hell-house and finish the final bits. I went there when Ant was out and managed the above in 4 hours. The blue bag is recycling which is full of junk mail so when that's gone it will look even better.

Everything from the bins - recycling and normal, had to come back to my house as his bin day is Friday and anything in the bins would be removed and re-absorbed into the house.  Another Freddie half-full with all of that stuff.

Ant and I went in to see him on Tuesday. I do ask myself why I go to visit him as he's still the MOST obstreperous man I have ever met.

I don't know where the nurses get their patience. His nurse is so lovely, but she says he's quite a character and she thinks he's adorable...