As I say, come meal time, he never even looks at the food which Mum arranges. Often he just ignores the doorbell while on hold for the Pizza delivery. Sometimes he has no idea what we are going to eat until just before the meal is about to start. The delivery man with the food from Mum could be knocking and my brother will call out – over the knocks – wondering what we are going to eat. Sometimes he is still putting together the rest of the meal when we have started eating the first course of whatever reheated, possibly e-coli ridden, pap he has thrown together.
Occasionally. Very occasionally. He takes a tiny scrap of the food Mum arranged for us. He doesn't treat it correctly. It might be left to go cold. Or covered in tomato sauce. But that is still a big deal and a MAJOR concession. Usually it is just McDonalds or tinned soup. Occasionally he goes on a health bender and we eat fresh fruit and vegetables for a while. Then it is back to Pizza, sugary cereal and Maccers.
When I raise the matter he points out that Mum actually said that in emergencies, under special circumstances, we can arrange suitable food ourselves. It is true, she did say this, but it is *always* an emergency, these circumstances are *always* special and the food he prepares is *always* suitable.
Apparently I am not even supposed to complain. That would be elitist.
Look. I realise you don't want your inheritance. But why do I have to do without it also?
Look. I realise you don't want your inheritance. But why do I have to do without it also?
Last night, for the procession with the Blessed Sacrament at the end of the Evening Mass of Maundy Thursday, we had the Taizé chant "Stay with me". You wouldn't think there was a rich, beautiful melodic song, written by the greatest ever Catholic Theologian (n.17), proposed by Holy Mother Church for the procession. We had one of the weird English translations of the Tantum Ergo when they got to the tabernacle.
I cannot fathom the mind that makes these choices.