This is achieved by first halting time, and then rotating the Wiimote. At its core it's a platform title, where you jump around with a paper thin main character that looks like the off spring of the early 90's soft drink mascot Fido Dido, and a milk cartoon, and the gimmick or unique feature is that the world around can be rotated 360 degrees.
Scientific quotes may be great, but pitted against names Braid or Limbo, And Yet It Moves doesn't exactly roll smoothly of the tongue.Īs far as gameplay goes this is an excellent little game, much like the above mentioned puzzle platformers. A weird graphical design, a pale and flat main character, and a rather pretentious title. You can find more reader dilemmas for Richard Madeley here or submit your own below.At first glance And Yet It Moves doesn't have a lot going for it. If this column issued medals, I’d pin one on you. You are a dutiful, caring child doing their best in extremely trying circumstances. Yes, you’re still left to cope with her unpleasantness towards you, but that’d remain whether she was on your doorstep or 300 miles away, wouldn’t it? You’re on hand to deal with any problems that arise. Look at the positives: you can visit your mother frequently, and presumably she can visit you. So I would strongly counsel you pursue your present course. What was it Einstein said about the futility of repeating the same mistake and expecting a different result? You could go to all the trouble of searching for another care package, and uproot her yet again, only to have her round on you when it all breaks down once more. Whatever, it was a failure and on the face of things, R, I can’t see any reason to think that another attempt would succeed. She fell out with her carers, perhaps because of her dementia but perhaps also because she has a ‘difficult’ personality.
It’s a heck of a way and it does you credit that you tried hard to make the option of keeping her in her own home work.īut it didn’t. To give that some perspective, that’s roughly the distance between London and Carlisle. Quite naturally, you strive to achieve the perfect arrangement for your mother, but it sounds to me as if pragmatism is a more realistic path to pursue. I think what we’re talking about here is the art of the possible. Should we resume our search for viable care in her own home? I feel bruised every time I see her – but I’m also acutely aware that she is suffering, and I can’t shake the sense that we’ve organised this for our convenience rather than hers. Her short-term memory may be shot but her tongue is as sharp as ever. Only my mother clearly hates being in what she calls ‘prison’, and harangues me for having talked her into this move. Also my eldest is 18 now and can pop in on her own (her grandmother is sweetness and light with her). This seemed sensible – we’d see more of her than if we were 300 miles apart. So last summer she moved into a nursing home near us: the plan was that we could visit easily, and we’d have time either to sort out a better care regime at home, or sell the flat and continue here. We tried to organise care for her at home but she fell out with a couple of carers and we couldn’t get the package right. Then a year ago she received a dementia diagnosis. I didn’t hear a kind word from her the whole time but she still cried and raged when the time came for me to go home. At one point I moved in with her for a month. She didn’t adapt well to video calling and was often tearful. Lockdown was hard on us all, but particularly isolating for her. Our relationship has always been snippy and scrappy, but the presence of grandchildren seemed to make it easier. She was widowed 10 years ago, and continued to live in the family home I had moved to the other side of the country some years before, often going back to stay with her for the weekend, sometimes with my children in tow. I am feeling increasingly exasperated by and guilty about my mother.
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