Bored with Christmas now.....It is raining. Wish I was in France.

My new year resolution is to be more cheerful.

Family coming to dinner tomorrow night and staying over, in dad's room. I have prepared room with expensive air freshener and my White House bedlinen but it still looks dingy. I wonder how M. will feel about redecorating. Our belongings - clothes, books, pictures and furniture will have been in store for nearly a year which just goes to show that you can live without things but it is not very nice. I think we will have to make decisions soon as to what we are going to do, we can't keep on paying storage but we have too much to fit into this little house.

My new year resolution is to be more cheerful

My new year resolution is to be more cheerful

My new year resolution is to be more cheerful

Write this 100 times and I might remember it!

Happy New Year

Today we varied the traditional Christmas Fayre by having beef. I pootled through the cooking with a couple of a variations on the veggies. Instead of mashed swede and carrot combined with a dollop of butter and sprinkle of black pepper, I mashed the swede with butter and horseradish sauce. Delicious. The roasted parsnips were accompanied by batons of carrots all sloshed in honey, olive oil and whole grain mustard and then cooked in the hot oven. They weren't quite cooked enough but timing was always my problem with cooking. Pudding was to be banoffee pie, a family favourite. Having had a bad accident with the tins of condensed milk exploding in the past I was greatly relieved to find the caramel ready made and just as good. It only needed to be put together. Unfortunately, (there is always one of them in our house when I am cooking) I forgot that we had no means of whipping the cream. I fetched my son into the kitchen to hand beat it.

That lasted all of 5 seconds before he went off in search of a better means that didn't involve manual labour. If I didn't know before that my son was his father's progeny - I do now. He came back with my husbands electric drill and inserted a fork into the bit before switching the power on. It worked. The drill however was ruined. A minor detail compared to not having banoffee pie. Usually it is the men in my household who make off with my kitchen knives etc. and use them for the wrong purpose now I have got my own back. The pie was delicious except that I hadn't quite cooked the pastry base.

We went to the respite place to see dad on Christmas morning. All was well, except someone else had dad's shirt on. It's a very distinctive shirt - black with great stripes. Not many old men wear black shirts; it reflects dad's teddy boy past! It was a bit tight on the old guy. One of the carers dressed up in an ill fitting santa suit and then proceeded to do a hoola hoop routine in front of everyone! Bizaare. Then all the residents were served schooners of dry sherry. Dad downed his in one go. We left as he fell asleep.

I have been told off for not keeping my blog going. There is plenty to say but it is not all about Dad.

We are all ready for Christmas, loads of food but nothing to eat. The fridge is full up and bursting at the seams with the freezer just as bad. Prescribed menus leave nothing to spontaneity (sic).

Anyway, it is sausage and chips tonight and bags of sweets. I Bought 7 bags of sweets yesterday to put out in festive bowls to be dipped in, as and when. The as and when took place last night and five of the bags disappeared. Today I replenished.

Two of us are going to visit Dad tomorrow and the other two are going to visit the other dad then we will all mass in Brighton for an agenda packed day. Secret Santa clues still to be written which is a bit difficult as two of our lot don't know the premises very well. I am basing my clues on nursery rhymes such as: incy wincy spider climbed up the spout...etc. Spout meaning teapot which is where my first clue will be found!

Thursday came and went still no news of funding. No surprise there then. It snowed big time

5/6 inches and everywhere came to a standstill. We got stuck out and had to abandon car and walk home in a blizzard. This does not feel good. Sharp pieces of glass flinging into your face.

Managed to get into Brighton even though there were no buses or trains to see Chicago at the dome.

Theatre was sold out but only third full. Freezing cold but drove home. Lift dropped me at bottom of hill and I walked the rest. Quite worn out with all the excitement.

We took a spare pair of glasses over to dad as the respite centre still hadn't found his glasses.

As we walked into the communal sitting room dad was being taken off to change his trousers!

We sat and waited. The lightbulb lady did not look quite so immaculate but her clothes were very smart and I was quite mesmerised by her gentility. She wanted to know what day it was as her birthday was coming up (tomorrow). As we waited I pulled the spare pair of glasses out to clean them. M. said "Are you sure they're his?" I looked at them. I don't think they are his either.

They had the wrong type of lense. Oh dear.

He came in and sat down next to us but clearly he hadn't been changed into clean trousers because he smelled.

Shavers and light bulbs

We took new clothes and shaver over to dad and he did look a little more respectable. He had been moved upstairs to the bigger unit. The other residents were quite chatty, one of the ladies was flirting with him, bless. A fragile looking lady, beautifully dressed with exquisite skin was very distressed to only have one light in her room. The bulb had gone in the other. She approached everyone who came near to tell them about it and what should she do. She hadn't got a torch either. The staff kept telling her that the maintenance man would come and mend it soon. That wasn't satisfactory and she really needed it done now. She was so genteel and well spoken, her hair was immaculate. I enquired how long it would take to replace the missing bulb and alleviate the poor woman of her distress and everyone else's at having to listen to this tale of woe, repeatedly.

I was told that the staff were not allowed to change bulbs, they had to call in an outside contractor!

The world or ESCC has gone mad. The new Philips shaver didn't fit the socket!

I went to see Dad today and was mortified by the state of him. He was sitting in the downstairs community room rather than in the cosier lounge used by only four people. He was fast asleep and looked absolutely beyond scruffy. He had glasses on that were bi-focals and definitely not his, a tatty old tracksuit top which looked ghastly, proper trousers with chocolate dripped down the front (I hope) and his brogue shoes. He clearly had not had a shave in days. I asked if he had lost his slippers. I asked about the glasses.

Apparently someone should have rung me to request a new shaver, preferably electric or at the very least some shaving sticks and some more clothes as he was 'extended'. I sat with him and nearly wept as Black Beauty was on the TV and I can't cope with sad things at the moment. My mind-set is fragile to the extent that I find stories on soaps worrying, anything to do with animals and children upsetting, pretty well anything sad has a terrible effect on me so I go round shutting my eyes to reality.

I asked dad if he knew the names (surnames) of the people who were sending him cards but all he could remember was which area of town they lived in so I should be able to identify who is who.

He was pleased to get some sweeties but within 5 minutes of me arriving he was fast asleep again.

I will go over on Monday with more clothes and a new electric razor. All the washing takes a heavy toll on clothes and they deteriorate very quickly. I now feel terribly guilty that I haven't taken proper care of him.

To Spend or not to Spend

Thursday has come and gone and no news re funding. I find it very difficult to think of anything else and seem to be permanently waiting. Friday a.m. I ring our man in the mental health unit.

No funding again. We talk about options and I have to decide not to spend dad's money on paying to go into care. My problem is that if he is paying until his money runs out they might think we had deliberately run down his finances. If we pay then the powers that be might think he is less of a priority. I decide not to spend the excess cash. I know my sister will agree. We talk about the respite home where dad is now, our man says he will ring them and see if he can extend it again.

I have very little hope as he has already tried before. This morning I put all the bedding back together and lit a Christmas incense stick ready for dad to come home.

The phone rang. Respite is extended until 8th Jan.

Tomorrow I will go over and see dad and take some cards to him. He gets lots of Christmas cards from the neighbourhood which is really great. I go through the address book and write cards from him to people who I have no idea whether they are still alive or not, I've never heard of half of them (this is a job my sister has done in the past). I don't know whether it is appropriate to send cards from someone who has alzheimers and who undoubtedly doesn't remember these 'friends' anymore. I will ask him tomorrow if he recognises the names of the people who have sent him cards.

This morning I telephoned the Agency and re-instated all the carers. This afternoon I telephoned and cancelled them again. This must have caused them a lot of work.

It has been a strange day. I can't find the Christmas tree. I have been up in the loft and produced two boxes of baubles but no tree. I have masses of lovely decorations but they are all in storage and I can't get to them. I find this strangely upsetting.

I have spoken to Matron and our man at Social Services. There is 'no running out of money' and we can use dad's savings to put him in as early as next week but that money is not refundable and it is, after all his money. Not a decision we will take lightly.

In the meantime, my frustration at this delay leaves me with nothing to do except dwell.....

Whilst dwelling, I remembered an episode that I have not already written down, well I don't think so.

It was about 5 o'clock, about the time that he wakes up and gets a bit restless; usually, that is taken care of by going along the shop to buy some sweets (Werthers Originals). Off he trotted and I sit reading the paper. The carer arrived, no dad. She left him a sandwich and I promise to do the meds. M starts cruising the estate and the cemetary (where mum is) still no dad. One of the neighbours makes a joke about M driving up and down and hastily backtracks when M explains that dad has gone awol.

At 7.00, it is dusk and I make a call to the police. A few words of explanation press the alarm buttons: elderly, vulnerable, alzheimers, lost......I visualise helicopters and search parties up on the downs.

At 8.00 ish we get a call from the Police, they had found him in Brighton General Hospital!

My sister collects him about 11.00 pm. He hadn't wanted to come home (all those young nurses)

and was a bit hyper. The hospital probably wanted him out asap as he has been somewhat difficult in the past. On one occasion he went walkabout in the hospital and was found several floors adrift having a pee in someone's sink. Another time, he caused a full scale security search when he again went missing. He was found sometime later tucked up in bed with another old man. Neither had any idea. I recall visiting him in hospital when he was very confused and he pointed to an old man in the bed opposite and said "Look, there's B..........(me) in that bed over there.

I think he likes going to other places, respite home, hospital, etc., because there is lots going on and his life at home is so boring and lonely. Every room is full of memories of happier times, mum, and a more dynamic life (though that is not a word I would normally equate to dad).

So frustrated. The weekly meeting that decides who gets funding or not deemed not....

I have no idea how this system works but wonder if we are waiting for someone to die.

Tomorrow I will ring Matron at the chosen home and ask if she can wait any longer. Another option is for us to pay ourselves until they catch up with us but it is more than £500 per week.

I was in such a cheery mood this morning now I have sunk back down to the depths. We have one more week of respite.

A bolt from the blue. We are able to fund dad in a care home with help from East Sussex C C.

I cannot tell you what a relief this is. Nice things do happen!! Social services often get a bad press but I have to say that the people we deal with have all done their job properly, have been kind, have been helpful and I have drawn support from them.