22nd May. Cuckoo World.

From the dizzying heights of Mr & Mrs F's chimney stack the sound of a Cuckoo carries across the moorland.

The Cuckoo is more often heard than seen and on account of it's repetitive tendency has become a by-word for dementia.

Which reminds me that I'm currently in the bad books for neglecting to phone Mother at a pre-arranged time with my Brother.

"You're too late mate... sorry's no good, don't phone me again, you'll have to phone her at the home, I'm putting the phone down now."

Honestly. Conversations conducted through the Care Home phone have to compete with 96 decibels of 'Emmerdale' or whatever happens to be on the box. "It's a very bad line isn't it? ...pardon?" and so on.

The easy option is to never phone either of them again.

Of course this is just stupid - because I put my phone on charge then went out without it, a familial rift develops, what hope is there for the wider world?