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.