22nd November 2005 – Tuesday.

He was in the quiet room, which is now the smoking room because of Amy. Amy who has set on fire the last two homes she’s lived in. Amy who smokes. Quite a few of the residents are smokers, but they forget that they are. They only ever smoke when a visitor lights up for them. But not Amy. She smokes, but forgets that’s she’s has one so every five minutes will ask for another cigarette. Apparently she’s not actually a heavy smoker – 5 or 6 a day if she’d only remember she’d had them. She’s covered in nicotine patches too. Never remembers to take them off.

Anyway, we were in there. He was with ‘the new woman’ who’s now Mrs Fulton. Amy was ‘the new woman’ but she’s Amy that smokes now. Mrs Fulton is called Irene. She’s very polite, obviously been well educated and a bit posh. She’s also completely barking. Daft as a brush. She and Dad were chatting when we arrived. I say they were chatting, they were sitting beside each other and taking turns speaking.

Countdown was on, post-Whitely. It’s the first time I’d seen it since he died. Countdown in the home is a surreal experience. As the letters are displayed, licking Bruce, licking away, exclaims that he knew each letter before it was chosen then gives his various suggestions for words, usually bearing very little relation to the letters concerned. He then announces he’s good at Countdown and wanders off, licking his face as he goes. Just once if a while he'll yell out a word that's dead right - better than dictionary corner even. And once, just once, licking Bruce stayed for the conundrum and got it right. Licking Bruce, not only licks all the time, but never ever stays in one place for more than two or three minutes. He wanders continually. Like a polar bear, pacing and pacing, back and forth. For a spell my Dad thought Bruce was my brother Colin in disguise. He thought he was on some sort of surveillance operation - very hush hush you know. Bruce doesn't even bear a passing resemblance to Colin so I can't link that one for him. I often try to link his thoughts with reality - I used to be convinced that there would be a path there - breadcrumbs through the forest - a path that if I tried hard enough I would be able to follow.

Mark was annoying me by lying on the floor and playing with his sister. I hate when I get annoyed with him for doing something so natural but I can’t help it. I don’t want him lying on the grubby floor, I imagine one of them tripping over them when I’m not looking, or remember the shit in the bucket incident and dread my children see something like that. It’s only a month ago I saw licking Bruce piss on the Hallowe’en table. Mrs Fulton makes to go so Mark and Ellie get up out of the way and I'm relieved.

"I'm not sure she's all there" Dad confides in me after she's out of earshot. "I know this is a big place but surely she can read the signs?" he continues. "What signs Dad?" I ask. "The platform numbers! She'll not get to Edinburgh from here, she needs to go to Queen Street for that. Well, it's not my fault if she's lost, I'm waiting for the circle train, but it's late as usual'. As Lily zimmers past he inclines "She another one I'm not sure is the full shilling - poor old soul. She's after a bus - in a train station mark you" and he rolls his eyes skyward. I see Mark's eyes silently pleading with me to go as Margaret veers towards him and Ellie screeching "Och, yer lovely, yer lovely! Come here 'til I see ye's! An me withoot ma purse! Och, yer lovely!".

So we leave Dad, leave him waiting for his circle train.