The sun is shining! I slept until 9.00 and got breakfast in bed, wonderful. Still very tired but quite comfortable. M has gone to work on the buggy for as long as he can stand the cold. (www.corvairdunebuggy.com) click on intro.

I am going to pootle today, I have a new book, and will go over to take dad's meds later on, not got enough energy to do anymore. Tomorrow I want to see Avatar and go and see my nephew's art in an exhibition in Brighton.

No news yesterday but this morning we had a call to say that funding would almost certainly be made available next Thursday. We talked about homes. The ones we wanted are all full.

The County (East Sussex) only pays a certain amount and lots of homes cost considerably more than that amount. Dad is contributing a substantial amount. I still don't get how this works.

I don't really care anymore as long as we find a friendly, clean and cheerful place with people who are not all in a dreadful state. The home will have to be suitable for mental incapacity which cuts the number down enormously. Dad has his problems that are now too difficult to manage at home but, he is not incapacitated like many people we have seen.

We need a place with people who are similar to him. This is so difficult. You think you have achieved what you desperately wanted and then another lot of goal posts appear. Hopefully we will get a few possibilities on Monday and go and see them immediately. We have to keep in mind that we want him where there are some 'normal' mentally deficient. That's a contradiction in terms.

I have done nothing today but I feel absolutely drained.

Excitement. A call from our man in charge. He has an inkling, only an inkling that we might, just might get the funding this week.....

Only trouble is the rooms we had lined up have gone to some other person.

Would we consider somewhere else?

We spent ages trawling round homes: some nice, but too expensive, some smelly and dingy with staff who looked like they were patients and the home we eventually plumped for suited us and dad. One of the points in its favour was that we wouldn't be ashamed for any passing relative to visit him there. The matron was cheerful, practical and had been 'in the business' for years, first as an employee and then buying the place along with another nearby. If you follow this blog backwards you will see that she visited us and accepted Dad as an 'inmate. I'll rephrase that, a client, a customer, whatever.

She kept a room for us for a good time but had to let it go whilst ESCC left us hanging every week.

Would I consider anywhere else? I talked myself into it.

"Well, I said, Dad has settled so well into respite he clearly suits that way of life, so we have less worries about how he will adapt.

We agreed that the team who find's places could be set this task immediately and hopefully come up with something within two days by which time we will know if the Committee are ready to fund him, always remembering that this is only an inkling....

Keep your fingers crossed for us that a) we get funding and b) a place is found that is not smelly, and has decent staff. Is it too much to hope for, probably.

Got dad to the doctors for his blood test, non-fasting, fortunately. We were a bit early so sat and waited while he went to sleep. The nurse didn't swab the site and as she put the needle in (I turned my back) he moved and started to get up saying "but I've only come here for you" He thought he was accompanying me to have the blood test and was quite put out to find it was his blood they wanted. Back we go again to him being the responsible adult and me being the child.

I knelt on the floor and held his hand as the nurse had another go at getting some blood which was successful. I didn't like to watch, his arm looked so puny and the skin so papery thin I felt it on his behalf.

We got back to the home and I asked if they could arrange for a hair-cut as well as the podiatrist.

Apparently we needed to lodge some money in the safe to pay for these extras. Luckily the hairdresser was in today so I took him downstairs to a room where two ladies were having their hair set. He sat in a chair and waited his turn. I left £40 to cover £6.50 for the hair and

£22.50 for the footcare.

I think I will try and pluck up courage to get dad to a barbers when we go to the doctors tomorrow.

I get very nervous about continence issues and I can't very well follow him around cleaning up if he sprays the walls or makes a mess. .

You can't just tell him to go to the bathroom before we leave. He will treat me to a withering look

and an indignant attitude and then five minutes down the road he'll say he needs the loo or, worse still, not realise and we walk round with obviously wet trousers or mess!

Dad was pleased to see me today when I went over with his meds. He looked a bit scruffy - his hair is too long and his shirt was hanging out but otherwise he looked well with a smile that sort of welled up. In fact, he looked a bit like an elderly 'Just William'

They were just about ready to have lunch but he was convinced they weren't having any today. I wonder if his sense of smell has gone as well as the connection from his eyes to his brain. You could smell the lunch, you could see the preparations and the trolley with obviously hot serving containers, but he said: "I don't think we are getting any lunch today". When we had his eyes tested recently the optician said his cataracts were worse but he could still see quite reasonably. (The hospital told us not to bring him back anymore, they didn't want to do the cataracts). If he can see quite well it must be his brain that is not computing what he is seeing.

I didn't stay long as I am going back on Wednesday to deliver him to the doctors for the tests.

We went up to London last night to Ronnie Scott's and had a great time. The blues music was brilliant and the food was good too. We had the best table, about a yard from the stage!

They are doing another show at the end of the month with Jack Bruce (Cream) doing a guest spot.

Still grey but I determined to go out. I walked down the town and went to the library. I adore going to the library. I ordered two books: The Luminous Life of Lily Nelly Aphrodite by Beatrice Colin and a book by Irene Nemirovsky. I paid my 80p for each reservation and couldn't bring myself to pass by all the lovely books on display even though I have several books on the go already. In France I have 65 boxes of books in storage and I miss them so. My dad has only got a few books here in the house; most are Reader's Digests compilations so I resort to them when I am desperate. One of his fiction works, which I have just finished, is The Sea Wolf by american writer Jack London. It was written in 1909 and is a peculiar mix of adventure, savagery and delicate love on the high seas. I am also reading an Iris Murdock.

When I left the library I waited at the bus station of catch the local service home. I forgot that the Saturday timetable is reduced and I stood there for a long time. Three of us got on the bus and settled in when the driver took the wrong lane. Were we being kidnapped? Did the driver know something we didn't? We all looked at each other wondering whether to mention that we were going the wrong way. Nobody said a word until the driver shouted out, at the top of his voice, "I forgot where I was going". Everyone breathed a sigh of relief but instead of carrying on he turned back and went round the one way system again to collect anyone waiting. This little incident united us and we all exchanged smiles, raised eyebrows and friendly nods. Travelling by bus is a community affair in Lewes whereas in Brighton you don't make eye contact with anyone.

Alison, if you are reading this, I thought the rat and the manchild blogs were funny. You cheer me up. If anyone else is reading this you can access above by going to blogs I share and click on

the one about biting and neck.

Another week and no result from ESCC for dad's next level of care. The respite centre telephoned today to say they had called a doctor because they thought he was sleeping too much. I started to say "well he always does that" but then stuffed the words back! More blood tests and a urine check have been called for; perhaps we will get lucky and a new doctor will find something that all the others have missed!

I will go to C. on Monday to take his meds over and again on Wednesday to take him to this new doctor.

I have a couple of outings planned to cheer us up and get our minds off the grey, miserable, diabolical weather. St Remy has had snow as well but at least the sun shines there.

We are going to a blues club for a dinner and live show in London and next week I am going to book tickets for the Royal Academy to see the Van Gogh exhibition. I will take E. with me.

I have seen so many of the paintings and the exhibition at the Cathedrale de Image but I would like to see the letters and some of the lesser known paintings. St. Remy de Provence still uses the hospital where VG was sent after the ear episode. I often went there to walk in the cloisters or the garden and look at the work of today's patients. There are some prints of the 'treatments' dished out to the unfortunate inmates, and one has to say that if they weren't mad when they went in they would be when, or if, they came out. VG did his best work whilst at St. Remy

and the town is a mecca for would-be artists. You can stand in or identify the views that are now world famous and the colours and light capture Provence as we know it. After he left St. Remy he only lived for another year before he shot himself, badly. ie. he didn't die immediately.

The sad thing is that he never sold a picture in his lifetime. Near to St. Remy is a lovely town - Arles, where VG first lived when he moved South. He used to sit in a bar and paint the square around him. We often go there for cafe but the service is pretty bad. The garden is kept as it was and the properties surrounding the square are much the same.

I didn't really appreciate Van Gogh until we went to Provence but he captured the essence of it.

Back to dad: In the Telegraph today there was a news item about a couple who had seen over 160 different carers in a number of months. I'm sure our lot could compete with that.

Both V and I went to see dad yesterday. Despite falling out of bed twice he looked really well and cheerful. He didn't fall asleep at all and apart from a missing button on his trousers he was quite respectable. The exquisite lady is still there and you get a real sense of community amongst the six people who currently inhabit the top floor. We were asked to bring more socks and clearly there must be borrowers because he has had loads of socks. We requested a chiropody visit because the staff are not allowed to cut toe nails. Hand nails are OK but not toes....I wonder if there is any connection with missing socks. He still has his old glasses on so the missing ones never reappeared. I checked he still had his spare teeth, I couldn't cope if they disappeared as well. We have no more pairs to fall back on.

It is a mistake to ask dad questions because he can't manage answers but I do it anyway.

"What did you have for lunch?"

Beef and fish he assured me, earnestly.

A friend called round today, her mother is in the same boat as my dad so we have a lot in common and regularly compare notes on which services / agencies we use. This can be very rewarding to talk to people who know exactly what it is like here in limbo land.

We went to the local pantomime with my great nephew; he was terrified of certain characters and had to sit on his mum's lap. When the main character called for a volunteer he was up there like a shot and all anxiety went out the window. Sitting behind me was a lady who used to live next door to mum and dad. She told me that she had to visit her parents daily because her mother was 86 and her father had Alzheimers and still lived at home. The mother, at 86, was the carer! They have no help from any other source. It is unbelievable what people cope with.

I must send an email to our social services guy to tell him how well dad is getting on. It re-inforces that we have made the right decision and it is down to him that we have been allowed so much respite.

My sister signed a document to allow a Swine Flu innoculation. Hope it doesn't upset him.

We woke to another whiteout! We have an icicyle over a metre long. Had a phone call from the respite home to tell me that Dad had a bruised eye with a small cut. They had called the District Nurse out to him but she said it was fine and not to worry.

I also had an email from social services man who has extended the respite, again, until the end of February.

I asked about the weather conditions up in Crowborough. Pretty bad. I won't attempt to visit until the next delivery of meds is required.

I had an email from one of dad's regular carers asking how he was. She has given this occupation up now but she still takes an interest in him.

I have been thinking about the home service carers; life must be so difficult for them in this bad weather. In the past I have complained, forcefully, (MP, County Council, Care Provider, Authority for Quality Control etc. etc.) about the worst aspects of care i.e. they don't turn up or they don't do what they are supposed to do. On one occasion a carer left faecal matter trapped in the bath, towels, bedding etc. all of which she described as having been cleaned . I caught her out because I was, unknown to her, in the house!

My relationship with carers is very much a love / hate one. I love the conscientious ladies, I hate the ones who rush in, do the minimum and look no further than the end of their noses and say they have been there an hour when I can see that much has been left undone. I will go to enormous lengths to help the good ones, even the mediocre ones: I'll cover their tasks if they are late, I'll clean up on their behalf, I'll even write them a reference if they want to get out of the business. I will help them as they help me.

There is very little to attract people to the business of caring. They are effectively self employed and therefore dependent on large numbers of 'clients' to make their living. They are not paid for time spent getting from one job to another. It is not as simple as them only doing clients who are in one particular district. They might go from one end of town to another three or four times in a shift. They might have 15 'tea' calls varying between 15min - 30 mins all within a narrow time band say, 5.00 pm until 6.30. If the calls are as simple as 15 minutes each with travel time on top of that, you do the maths. We have had tea calls late into the night on occasions. If dad needs cleaning up on a call it all takes time and they have to make it up by rushing someone else.

We negotiated, and pay, for an hour every morning for the breakfast call just to ensure they have time to give him time. Lunch call we get by with 30 mins and tea time with 30 mins. Technically this should all work but factor in weather such as we are currently experiencing, inconsistent standards from different carers, staff sickness (always last minute). For a 15 minute call these girls earn approx £3.00. They either don't get enough clients in which case they earn very little - certainly not enough to live on or too many clients which must cause the good ones a huge stress factor.

The turnover of carers is huge and my plea for a certain person is often met with the response "Oh, she's left".

The 'management' of these complex timetables has to factor in personalities, carer's family commitments, whether they can drive, their level of competence in difficult cases. The management personnel get the brunt of problems and they don't last long either!

Our experience has been nightmarish on occasions. The biggest problem can be those carer's who simply don't turn up thus leaving a frail person without food or drink or meds for long, long hours. If I hadn't been around we would have had to put dad in care years ago simply because I could not rely on the level of care from the carers. Dad is fortunate inasmuch as he has us to keep an eye on things and if I am away there are more family members to take up the reins. Many people have no-one.

This last week, with our area deep in snow and ice, where few cars can get around easily I wonder how the carers have managed. The postmen have not delivered for days yet these poor women will have been expected to turn out from 7.00 am and be paid a pittance for doing it.

As I said: it is a love / hate relationship but I have every sympathy for the task they try to do, sometimes in impossible circumstances. If society valued these workers and paid them a decent salary to do a difficult job we would all benefit at some point in our lives.

Crowborough was cold. 1.5 degrees lower than the nearest town. We kept to the main road and managed to deliver the meds and a new toothbrush. I am so relieved dad is still there I don't think the home carers could have helped us much with this amount of snow impeding their progress.

It snowed again last night but the car was on the main road so it was relatively easy to get out and to the shop for a few bits. Last night I went up on the downs with H. There were so many people out all having a riot with their sledges and games. I looked across to Newhaven, it was so beautiful with a warm pink setting sun. I took a photo on my phone and if it comes out ok I will post it later.

We are in now for the duration of the weekend and anticipate a blizzard today and tomorrow.

We are going to try and get up to C. today to deliver the meds. I can't drive at the moment unfortunately so M. will do it. Snow is still lying deep and no traffic is moving on the estate but the main road should be ok later today. Getting bored now and H. doesn't want to go out and get his little paws wet.

Have been feeding the birds as they have been looking very forlorn. The back door to the conservatory froze shut. I put some pear drops in what is left of the vodka and made a lovely drink but too strong for me to drink neat, lots of ice cubes needed.

Dad's meds came by taxi, now I just have to get them to Crowborough which is the most difficult place in Sussex for bad weather.

We dug the car out and got to the town for some food but couldn't get back to the house. Parked on the main road and trudged home. Everything looks absolutely beautiful and there were lots of people busying themselves with sledges and shovels. E. was on a bus in Brighton which was sliding. Scary.

Rather worried to find that someone called Raymond Losey has left a comment which has come up as gobbledygook. Didn't actually think people would be reading my stuff. Are you friend or foe?

Deep snow and stuck on the estate. No traffic moving. I have serious pain today and will not even attempt a walk. Hope all the carers get to work in Crowborough, or anywhere else, for that matter.

We had a call from our kind social services chappie. He has managed to extend the respite, again.

We are now ok until the 21st Jan. The room we were hoping for in the care home has gone to someone else because we still haven't received the funding he is entitled to. The committee only meets once a week and invariably give the money to the most needy. It has been weeks now.

We are all agreed that to move dad back home and then to another place would not be in his best interest, nor mine.

I went up on the downs yesterday morning, it was very beautiful and quite exhilarating but today I am exhausted. I think I must try and do this at least three times a week to get back into some level of fitness. Daunting but hopefully doable.

I took the dog to see dad today and he went down very well with the inhabitants. The exquisite lady (Margaret) was still there wearing the most elegant of clothes. Hugo went up to her when she petted him and then he jumped up......The beautifully woven skirt got caught up in his nails and pulled a number of threads. She was quite charming about this social disgrace but called the carer over to try and pull the threads through. Unfortunately, only one of them returned to normal. She informed everyone that it was a new skirt. Her story came out whilst I was sitting with dad. Her husband had suffered a bad accident hence her change of circumstances. Tom (elderly with walking issues) couldn't understand why he was expected to stay the night; did his wife know where he was, would anyone be coming to get him, today. Margaret did her best to explain that he would be staying the night, over and over again. He couldn't retain the information and became quite upset. Another gentleman, Tom, looked over my shoulder and asked if that was the sea outside. No, I replied, we are in Crowborough, the highest point in Sx and far away from the sea.

Oh, I thought we were in Eastbourne he said.

Dad ignores them all and continues to sleep. He looks very rested but is wearing someone else's clothes and doesn't have his glasses on, again. He has also lost his toothbrush.