by Don Kwikshot

Created on: March 18, 2009

My first attempt at moving my mother into my own home was not a success. I had been on my own for some time and had developed my own way of doing things and knew how to live my own life in my own way without having to consider others unduly.

Without really having to give the matter a great deal of thought, I had always assumed that eventually I would have to move my mother into my household as she became older and more frail. I think it had always been an accepted fact between us that she would never be parked' into an aged home to sit looking at four walls, but would end her life as happily as possible and that I would assume that responsibility when the time came. I had a good job, was away quite a lot of the time, and was living on my own, and while I was often busy, I was also lonely sometimes. So when she was only 68 we decided that I would buy a house just a few minutes walk from the beach and that she would share it with me. We each had our own lives and our own friends, but we would also benefit from each other's company when we wanted it.

I had two dogs and two cats and she had two cats, but they all got along fine. She still drove herself everywhere, loved swimming and the beach, and was in very good health, so there was no reason to suppose that such an arrangement wouldn't work for us both.

It would also be much easier for me if I had to go away because there would always be someone at home to look after the house and the animals.

I found a big old Edwardian maze of a house which we both liked and which could easily be divided in two so that she would have a large sitting room, a big kitchen, her own bedroom and her own bathroom just across the passage. On the other side of the dividing door I would have a large bedroom and bathroom, guest bedroom, my own dining room, kitchen, large lounge and scullery, and my own veranda overlooking the valley. She would run the house when I was away and would take the garden under her wing, because she loved gardening and had green fingers. We would share the costs in the same way that we would divide the house: 1/3, 2/3.

That was the idea in principle, but unfortunately it didn't work out that way. She had been on her own for many years and was used to having her own way in most things, as was I. No sooner had we moved into the house and made the changes than she took over my bedroom as hers, put me into the small spare room, decided we would share all the amenities, and the separate area which I had designated for

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