“Things Can’t Get Any Worse”

Well. The next few posts aren’t going to be in any chronological order – a lot has happened in the last seven days and this is a blog, not a court record. And a couple of them may seem a tad callous, laughing at my cousins’ misfortunes. But, like the Canadian Reids, my cousin and her family all have a strong sense of the ridiculous.
Let’s start with some background and a little timeline. My wonderful Uncle Ian died earlier this month. Until the last two weeks of his life, he lived in the house that he and Aunt Margaret built in the early 70’s. It’s a lovely, sturdy little bungalow in a neighbourhood in the Clyde Valley countryside. Much of the décor has not been touched in decades. My cousin intends to keep the house, fix it up, and use it as their Scottish retreat. I will be helping with some of that (more on that in the future). So, here’s what’s happened since we lost Uncle Ian:
> Viv planned his funeral in Scotland for last Monday, with a reception at his house after the service. Her family would be staying at Ian’s or at her hubby’s mother’s house about 40 minutes away. (I was staying with a kind neighbour.)
> Last Friday, four days prior to the funeral, her daughter & SIL arrived at the house and tried to get in the backdoor, only to find pipes had burst and the kitchen ceiling had fallen in.
> Family moves into overdrive and finds a plumber, a B&B large enough for the family, and a restaurant that will let them have the reception after the funeral on Monday. They head north to Scotland, some by car, some by plane.
> They are a family of eight, and would need transportation around the area, so were planning on using Viv’s MIL’s car, plus those they had already driven up from England. But, they’ve been given notice that that car has broken down.
> Viv finds out her confused Dad forgot to renew his home insurance.
> Funeral was lovely, reception very nice.
> Family arrives at house the next day to rip up some of the wet carpeting, only to find out the living room ceiling has collapsed too from the weight of the water.
> I leave for Kent, because I’ve paid for a B&B in the Midlands and would just be underfoot anyway.
> While they’re clearing the disaster in the living room, the hall ceiling comes down too.
> They do what they can, then half the family heads home, and the other half heads to the elderly MIL’s house to wish her a Merry Christmas and let her visit with the grandkids.
> They arrive to find out she is seriously ill and needs to be hospitalized.
> They call an ambulance. Ambulance drivers are currently on strike, but one eventually arrives.
> They see MIL settled in the hospital, and get in the car to make the eight-hour drive home, where I’m sitting sipping wine, reading a book, and awaiting them. (To be clear, MIL wasn’t left alone; my CIL isn’t a monster – his brother is staying with their mother.)

That was the last five days of my cousin’s life – she and her family are taking it all in stride, some tears, lots of laughter, and a sense of ‘stuff happens, heigh-ho’.
For the last month or so, every time something happened my cousin would say, “well, at least things can’t get much worse” – I keep telling her to stop saying that, she’s tempting the gods, and clearly they don’t like that, as they keep proving her wrong.