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.