Friday at Ashgill

Late morning into lunchtime on Fridays in a dementia care home often goes something like this. I talked to Dad and showed him some photos. He laughed at my jokes. I compared cut fingers with Marcella and tried to make Jeannie smile. Stephanie got me an instant coffee in a plastic cup, with a saucer, and a custard cream. I sang along to Neil Diamond with Jenny, and knitted for a while when Dad fell asleep. Rachel was in a wheelchair, unusually, because her arthritic knees were playing up, and was apparently in a foul mood about it, but she was asleep. George admired my winter boots (the weather was awful today), which was funny, because in five years I've never seen him wear shoes. I admired William's new stylish hairstyle, but he was asleep too. Jean May's sister came to visit for a while, and Isabella's husband. I gave Dad his lunch - home made soup followed by fish and chips - always the same on a Friday. I had a wee dance with Theresa while she sang Danny Boy, then later she fell out with us all and swore a lot. I listened to Mrs Garvie chat away. Sadie made me laugh, as she usually does. I didn't see Gerry, because it was his funeral last week. That's not so usual, thankfully. I'm sad for his family. But an old folks home faces death regularly. Even so, it can be a surprisingly positive place to be for a couple of hours.