Three of us visited Dad last Sunday including my sister and my daughter. It was 2.30 in the afternoon and we were told that dad was having a shower. We didn't ask why but sat down in the dining room to wait. He turned up, looking very scrubbed, about fifteen minutes later and sat down with us while the staff went off to make us tea. My sister asked dad if he knew who we were. He looked at her and said, "Well, you're V....." he nodded to my daughter saying "and that's B..." then he looked at me and said "I don't know who this young lady is sitting next to me though!"

He had had a haircut in true Brighton style, shaved short leaving him looking a bit like an old Grant Mitchell. He seemed quite happy and certainly looked well despite wearing 'Georges' glasses.

We tried to make conversation that he could relate to but it is difficult. Finally, as we were leaving, he volunteered, "Well, I suppose I'm stuck here then". We agreed and left him heading for the sitting room. He had eaten all the biscuits.

As we tried to get out (there are two doors with lots of locks) I was waylaid by an elderly lady who couldn't lift her head off her chest. She was leaking from her eyes, her nose and her mouth and I began to panic that I would be shutting the door in her face. I hate to be cruel and it is sad to just leave as she is trying to communicate with me.

Taking dad anywhere early in the morning is a mistake. I knew that.

We collected him from Sparrows at 9.45 am for a journey to Newhaven to see the lead doctor of his mental health team. It was all a rush and we got there just in time. We waited. We finally got in the door and sat ready for the signing off session before he is formally transferred to Brighton and Hove. We recounted how friendly and smiley the care home workers are, that we were happy with their level of care, that dad was apparently well settled in the community (even though he and two others tried to break out).

The Italian doctor conducts the session via me or my sister because Dad cannot understand his accent. We all sit there translating his accented words into understandable Sussex English. We do tests, or try to, and I can't even get the words out when I am required to explain to dad that he must repeat after me "No ifs, ands, or buts"

I make two attempts to say this as we all collapse into giggles. Dad couldn't do it. Neither could he read a sentence given to him. Of course he couldn't, he had someone elses glasses on, again. He put them on, pulled them off, rubbed his eyes and refused to do it.

After repeated attempts to remember three items: an apple, a table and a penny we gave up on the tests. He was unable or wouldn't co-operate and it ended up like a scene from a farce.

The doctor started to jot down his report and wrote: Mr. E is wearing dirty underwear and his hair is rather unkempt and too long. His glasses are not his own and he appears to be wearing his slippers rather than shoes. I looked down at his feet. Slippers, why had I not noticed. Dirty vest, I hadn't even looked. Hair, God, it was long but it had been combed.

Once again I was mortified. We had just bundled him in the car and not actually looked at him.

We were given a lecture along the lines of smiles and cheerful words don't constitute good care and were we sure he was being well looked after.

We drove back to Swallows horrified. The hair has now been cut, the new glasses have been ordered and we have been cut down to size. Poor dad.

We had a formal 6 week review at Sparrows on Friday with our man from the SS and the representative from the home. We were given a written report which covered all aspects of dad's care. It seems he is coping very well and is less incontinent because of the structure of the care, and, though he wanders a bit at night and goes into other people's rooms for a sit down he is very settled. We relayed the story about when he was in Brighton General on one of the many times he went missing. The staff searched the entire hospital before going back to his ward to see if he had turned up. He had, but he was fast asleep in someone else's bed alongside another elderly gentleman, fortunately.

The home are arranging for some more glasses to be made and we have asked for some check-up on his hearing. The District Nurse will see to that. Sparrows is not far from the sea, so we can realistically take him for a walk when the weather improves. Went to see Girl with the Tattoo (sub-titled) last week, Carousel and today will go and see Alison in Wonderland with Jonny Depp that is if M can be dragged away from his project which is nearing completion now.

see: www.corvairdunebuggy.com On that note we might get an invitation to take it to Goodwood for the classic cars show in September. I will dress up as Faye Dunaway and have already bought the Scarf! Finally, on a sad note one of my followers on this site, a very dear friend, died last week. She was in her fifties and was given one of those horrendous 6 weeks to live diagnosis' out of the blue. She made it for a few weeks longer but succumbed to the cruelty of cancer in the end. She came to stay with us in France and we have some lovely memories, particularly of sitting in the Tabac for a meal when the England v France rugby was on. We were the only Anglaise there and the waiter told us to keep a low profile, especially if we won!

Which we did. All the French sang the Marsellaise so we sang the British Anthem as loud as we could when it was our turn. They were gutted when we won. If they had won they would have been driving round the town all hooting their tooters. We all shook hands and left with the entente cordial preserved.

No glasses at all now!

we trooped down to Sparrows with needle and thread to sew yet more labels on clothes. He was fast asleep in the very smelly communal room so we suggested that we go and sit in the Quiet Room used for visitors. He didn't want to do that so we went up anyway, there wa s no way that I was going to sit in the communal room. Once again there were lots of staff on duty and eventually one of them persuaded dad to come and sit with us. The conversation was sporadic:

"Have you made any friends, dad."

"No"

"What is the name of the chatty lady"

"I don't know"

It all continued in that vein and everything we said he didn't hear properly so I think we must look into getting some ear wax drops . He did tell us that he had been up to the eye hospital with a woman to get his eyes checked!! Perhaps that is why he is, once again, wearing someone else's glasses. I walked into the communal room and inspected everyone's glasses to see if they had dad's. None. In the end we left him wearing the 'stolen' ones because he looked good in them!! I am taking my aunt and uncle down to Sparrows to visit on Wednesday, I hope he is up and properly dressed. I might ring up first to check.

Dead! I didn't know that

I told dad that I would put some flowers on mum's grave for mothering Sunday. He looked confused and then we heard the comment "Dead! I didn't know that".

When we were all living in the same house I was a constant reminder of mum because, apparently, I look so much like her. Most of the time he called me by her name.

Gang of Three

Dad looks more than comfortable in his care home. He has someone else's cardi on, no glasses in evidence, but he has been adopted by two other people - a very chatty lady and another man. They are more animated than some of the others and are becoming an item. We asked if they were being troublesome. "Oh no, it's lovely, but they lead each other on" We went up into the little private sitting room and had tea with him. He asked "Are you hiring this place". We knew what he meant but he couldn't get the right words, so we just said yes. "Doesn't that make it difficult in the kitchen". Bless.

We had a few laughs which was great and he is a good colour and very chirpy. I popped along to his bedroom and there were a few cards for him which is lovely. It all looked nice and clean. There are a lot of staff on duty and no one is left to wander aimlessly. No-one would wish to be in this situation but dad seems really happy which is wonderful for him and us.

M. returned from the States avoiding tornados, he looks knackered but cheerful.

He is to become head of ........automotive which is a worldwide position and could herald another big change in our lives. With dad settled we can concentrate on getting back to our world wherever it is. I so miss my own furniture and books and pictures and I can't live like this for much longer.

Glasses are with their rightful owners. Clothes are where they belong but largely missing name tapes. We have ordered another lot. Lots of pictures on the walls and people have sent dad cards so, hopefully, all is right with his world. I feel much calmer if a trifle bored!! We will visit dad this weekend before M. goes to the States. Went to the garden centre and bought some spring flowers in readiness for Spring but it's not here yet, it's bloody freezing. It is 17 degrees in St. Remy.

I rang Hookstead respite this morning to tell them about the mystery glasses. They have got his waiting. I will drive over to Crowborough pick them up and then go to Brighton swap them and then post the mystery ones back to Crowborough.

The meds were delivered today for the last time, I hope.

Dad has a visit to the mental health dept in March, hopefully the change of address to Hove won't affect his consultant. When I thought about dad today I did so with a sense of relief that he is in a permanent place and all being well will stay there for the remainder of his life.

Pat, if you are reading this I haven't forgotten about the card. Hope all is well.

E. went to see dad today and said she didn't like the communal areas but his bedroom was nice.

She had made a collage of photos to hang on the wall. I tried to dismantle the beds ready to throw out. We will buy a new single to replace the twin beds.

I have developed an awful rash which I can't get rid of with anti-histomine and calomine lotion. I think it might be stress related as I have had such things before but I am not so painful now.

We arrived at Sparrows (It definitely doesn't qualify for something balletic like Swallows). A good sign, as we drove up, was the carpet cleaning outfit. The place smelled nice.

Dad was fast asleep in the sitting room but he was wearing his outdoor coat! We trundled up to the top floor with the pouffe (the only bit of recognisable furniture that will fit) a pot of hyacinths that smelled heavenly. I wrote name tags, again, and noticed that there were only three pairs of pants left. We had several half hearted conversations and then I noticed ....someone has lost their glasses because dad has them on...This will be the third pair.

As we drove away we both sighed with relief. Everything is going to be OK.

Dad has arrived and settled in. We will leave him until tomorrow so that he makes an effort.

I should feel happy or relieved but I am too tired to feel anything. I think if the weather were better we would revive but it is so depressing.

Occasionally I get comments left on this site but I can't open them they come up as little boxes, does anyone know how this works?

I might take a look at some short breaks in the sun.

Finally got to see dad again at the respite home and reminded him that he is moving tomorrow.

He just nodded and went back to sleep.

I had cancelled his medication but reinstated it again today for a further two weeks.

Went to the National Theatre on Saturday to see an Alan Bennett play. It was a wonderful experience with witty dialogue. The subject matter was less appealing but very funny.

I had to spend the next day in bed, sleeping, to get over it all.

An outreach worker is going to collect dad and deliver him to Hove. We have written to all our relatives and some of his friends explaining what is happening and ask them to remember him with cards, postcards etc. He knows who everyone is and it will keep him aware, perhaps.

Dad is still in quarantine and unlikely to move until Tuesday and then only if the Hookstead has been free of D&V for 72 hours.

Went to C'borough again to deliver meds. The D & V is still taking victims so there is no change of dad getting out for the next few days nor can we get in.

Friday: Dad succumbed to the D&V. Everyone on his floor has it now. Apparently, the three men ate breakfast as normal and then a few minutes later they all dee'd and vee'd.

I didn't have a good day either but had to go to Brighton to personalise dad's room ready for when he gets there. Forgot the pouffe but took photos ( all labelled). Then drove to telscombe with an old photo of dad in his army kilt when he was about 20. A photographer will reproduce the pic and tidy it up then we can frame it to match one of Mum at the same age. Drove home like a zombie and forgot to put the car into park as I tried to get out. Wondered why it was running backwards.

Just got it sorted as it was inches from the car parked behind. The poor bloke who owned the one behind looked horrified. I was horrified and not safe to be on the road. Went home and went to bed. Not a good day.

He didn't go! The respite place has imposed a 'lockdown' following an outbreak of D & V.

I wouldn't want to be caring for numbers of Deeing and Veeing all locked in and everyone else locked out. Horrific.

Swallow Lodge will take dad under it's wing on Thursday (subject to snow). We have agreed that a member of staff from Hookstead will take him and we won't be there. This caused a bit of soul searching, but Dad responds to others and will not question the new arrangements whereas if we take him he might react badly. I will go and see him this afternoon and explain what is happening.

I have organised his medication for the next two weeks to tide him over.

I went to the ballet (Romeo & Juliet) last night and in an effort to economise I only spent £25 on each ticket. Never again, we were up in the gallery which is four floors up steep circular stairs. We were in the front row but there was a small guard rail which cut right across the vision. As the curtain went up and the dancers appeared on stage there was a raised area at the back of the stage and anyone dancing on that had there heads cut off by the front upper edge of the stage. I am not explaining this very well but take my word for it that the giggle level shot up as all those beautiful dancers lost their heads. We couldn't help it - so comical. We thought we would lose the balcony scene altogether but luckily there wasn't one. Romeo and Juliet without a balcony!

These issues aside it was wonderful, comic in places and the principal ballerina was so delicate she looked like a feather. An advantage of being in the Gods was that we looked down on them which allowed you to see all the dancers footwork.

Another giggle moment came when I saw one of the principal males was going bald. Can you have bald ballet dancers? I am glad I made the effort to go out in the bitter cold but the whole programme lasted three hours which was a trifle long. When we came out of the theatre there were lots of people about, Massive Attack were on at the Dome with their show finishing before ours. I love Brighton.

I have to get dad's meds to Crowborough and it is snowing. The manageress of the care home also has to get there today. Crowborough is a nightmare in bad weather.

Feel very unwell at the moment, so tired and painful. Haven't got the energy to motivate myself.

I managed to get to sleep last night with some homeopathic sleeping tablets, in fact I slept a little too well and when our chief nurse (mental health) rang at nine I was still in the land of nod.

"good news" he said we have got funding. So that's it. We just have to get the Manageress to assess dad on Monday and then we can move on to the next stage of our lives.

I will spend the weekend selecting clothes and pictures for his room. We did think of giving him a budgie as he used to show them when younger. The trouble is he might not look after it and the poor thing will be neglected. We will write to everyone in his address book and tell them of the change of address. I will ask people if they would sent him the odd card or postcard so that he gets some continuity. He has no problem yet in remembering people, particularly if they are long term friends.

The weather is beautiful today and I walked up to the downs with the dog.

Guilt. Last night I lay away for hours wishing I was anything but human. If I was a bird I wouldn't suffer from a conscience or guilt. My guilt is not logical and is, in truth, entirely irrational. I lay rigid having to consciously relax my bones every other minute before discovering myself rigid again.

In between trying to plea bargain with my mother (dead for 5 years) over my father's care by myself and my sister I tried intoning sleep inducing mantras. I got up several times and know that I was still awake in the early hours.

This morning I couldn't get up and stayed in bed until 12.00 I have studied the quality care report of the home we have chosen. It scores level 3 in every instance which is good. The staff think highly of the Manageress and all the staff are well trained. All is well. I wonder if my brain will accept that and let me relax and sleep tonight. Probably not. I think the Guilt is going to be felt no matter what happens. Sleeping tablets will do it.

Dad's funding level has been lifted slightly to accommodate the Brighton and Hove rate. We are still dependent on tomorrows committee meeting. If it is approved then Val from the home will go to the respite place on Friday and if she says yes then Dad can move in next Monday.

While we were talking to Val she told us that all spectacles are labelled by an optician and false teeth are taken out and engraved with the identity. Followers of this blog will know that we have lost both spectacles and false teeth. She asked us not to get upset if we found dad wearing someone else's clothing or vice versa. It happens, she said. We know! I just hope the belly dancers don't lose any of their outfits.

We have had a roller coaster ride over the last few days. Could we afford this or that. Finally, today we went to Brighton and rang round a few places and found two with space. We have taken a place for dad in Hove which is near my sister's home. I have to say it wasn't the greatest looking and could do with a lick of paint but the lady in charge was very helpful, realistic and we liked her attitude. His room was a decent size with it's own loo and sink. It didn't smell and the afternoon activities were novel! A magician, various singalong people, and get this....belly dancers.

Apparently, they are all nurses who turn out for charity. We saw a photo. We came home and now I don't know whether to be pleased or not. I will hang on until it's all signed up.

Once again, I feel drained. I burnt all of the dinner - it's a crap oven and my mind is not on turning out meals.

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.