Facing a little sadness

My cousin and his wife have returned from visiting the relatives.

There's a little sad news, or rather, not-sad-yet-but news.

The first is that in less than 2 months the Termagent has deteriorated considerably. She sleeps most of the time now and is very slow when she speaks, occasionally seeming to be elsewhere. He describes her as 'Looking like Uncle One,' and he thinks it's Alzheimers, but the description he gives of her appearance and behaviour is more like someone who has suffered a mild stroke. They need to get her to the doctors, see what's going on.

Also, at some point, he and his wife are giving up on GB and returning to Spain. They can make as much money flying over, working through agencies on 10 day stints and taking the money back than trying to stay here, pay huge rents and nursery/childcare rates. Besides GB isn't a great place for foreigners right now.Though my cousin's wife has never really adapted here, this does make me sad. It's like a parent you praised to your friends turning up in front of them drunk and abusive. I am embarrassed and ashamed of this country.

Yesterday I accompanied my cousin's wife to the Dr's. She works at St Thomas' so she is taking advantage of the hospital's excellent antenatal care; however, St Thomas' is in a different borough to the one in which she lives. At the 25th (?) week, and a few other similar points, her GP (within the borough where she lives) is supposed to do a check up, as opposed to the midwives, and it seems that the surgery with which my cousin's wife is registered does not provide this service; technically the GP is refusing to see her. So who will do it? Or will it just not get done?

To cap it all, we were approaching a bus stop where our bus was waiting. As my cousin's heavily pregnant wife waddled towards it the driver saw us and then studiously looked elsewhere as he drove off. It made me think that he was the embodiment of Brexit Britain, smallminded, petty, mean.

I wish we'd leave.