This really is getting to be intolerable.

Bea by now has cottoned on to the fact that when I get angry enough, things change. She has a massive communications issue, but there's a mind in there that reasons, even if it doesnt reason like mine.

As I said before, historically she's been inclined to soil herself and the house in protest to something she doesnt like but cant point out. She was very lazy for decades and needed continence aids, but now providing everything is ok with her she doesnt need them day-to-day.

I am worried though, there are other signs, other things she does. She doesnt confront me directly to make me angry, that would be pointless - all she'd do is annoy me deliberately, and that would get her nowhere. So instead she sits and stares at me until I ask her what she wants, and grins while I run out of guesses and give up.

But I dont have to do that too often to figure out she still wants something, and boy does that get on your tits after a few hours.

She also does things she knows get up my nose but she wont be punished for. Thats actually rare, I have to make huge allowance for things like flushing all my toilet paper away on the weekend. Catastrophic, so I got wise and hid a spare.

She's had that one away too, this morning. That will teach me to laugh about ruining the social workers morning dump when he reads about us in his morning paper. Now either I am psychic, or she heard me and thought, ooh, great idea Dad. Thanks for that, now I do sincerely hope he crimps off his morning coffee and ruins his day. He at least gets paid for it.

Piling all her possessions on her bed at bedtime so I have to shift the lot while she just laughs. She's got a revolting old rug with streets and houses, and the backing is coming off it. She loves it, I hate it because it leaves a trail of gritty yellow foam behind it and I cant replace it. It was a thoughtful gift from a relative on her mums side as a kid, and a well heeled one at that. If I have to sweep it off her bedsheets one more time I'll yell, I know I will.

Asking for things she doesnt actually want. I suppose thats probably part of the staring thing, but she knows damn well I hate wasting stuff, I dont have disposable income. All I can do is sputter, because I cant refuse her request for anything reasonable. Hysterical, I'll cook you something else then shall I Madam? And I keep running out of things for her lunchbox because she threw them in the bin.

Deliberately doing everything the hard way, refusing help and usually falling foul of it. Her favourite is to use the swings at the playpark for a while, stop, and turn around by stepping through the swing from behind. She'll growl if I attempt to rescue her after she's got a foot caught and flails wildly until she falls off. Most people would just sit down but not her. Its a performance I guess, but I only see it when she's annoyed about something. [ If anyone can figure out what this means I'd love to know. I'm baffled ;-) ]

Changing her clothes as many times as she can get away with so I run out of clean socks and knickers for her and wonder why there's a huge pile of washing, or take clean stuff off the line and wonder why it isnt clean. She knows I insist she goes out of the house clean, tidy clothes, hair brushed and plaited with everything she needs and it drives me mad trying anyway without that kind of sabotage.

Normally I dont have to deal with any of these; Bea gets what Bea needs. I've been doing this for 20 years, I dont even have to think, much less twice.

But Bea knows she hates the stairs and the shit, misses her trampoline and she knows I'm unhappy. I know because she hugs me and gives me thumbs up and tries to make me laugh too. Bea isnt getting what she needs, and I cant provide it, so she has to find a way to tell me and thats how she does it.

Unfortunately, Social Services are so inept they wont even read this in my global blog, after I told them about it, forcing me to write to the UK papers. Sorry Andrew, but you bluffed me with jokers and I've got a Royal Flush.

I do so love wiping my ass on headed writing paper...