I usually spend Sunday at my parents; I've been doing it for years, even before Mum fell ill. I'd go over after church, have Sunday lunch and tea with them, and usually come home after "Antiques Roadshow". Things are pretty much the same now except that Mum has PSP. I enjoy our Sundays and it seems that Sunday lunch inspires Mum to come up with little witticisms that have us all laughing over the roast dinner.
Today she was playing with the last little bit of meat on her plate, Dad helped her to get the meat on the spoon and she tipped it off. "You're being contrary today, Mum" I said. "That's about all I can do!" she replied gleefully before tipping the meat off her spoon again. Another example from six weeks ago; Mum still feeds herself but occasionally she misses her mouth and the food lands in her lap or on the floor where the dog waits eagerly to hoover up any titbits. It happened again and my Mum, who literally washed my mouth out with soap for swearing when I was a child, spelled out "b-u-g-g-e-r". I told her it was no good her spelling in front of the children now, I was old enough to understand what she meant! These little flashes of Mum and her sense of humour are precious and a big part of what makes Sunday special.
I broke a molar Sunday 
Update and pictue lastt Sunday
deterioration of mum 
