11th November 2007 - Back to work II

He was much as I expected. He was pleased, but very surprised to see me. He couldn't remember if Colin had been in to see him. He thought I was dead.

We sat in the day room. The floor was littered with dodds of food. Angus was on - he'd a lovely guy - he's very helpful, very friendly, very caring and very black. Ever seen Blazing Saddles - "The Sheriff's a ni" - well Dad often has a problem with Angus. He has - in the past - called him a negro in hushed terms and even once mouthed "nigger" at me as he passed. Angus must be used to it, must have incredibly thick skin and saintly patience as today Bertha was screaming at him "Leave me alane, ye black basturt that ye are. I'll git a constable, ye see if a dinnae, noo fuck awa aff ta the jungle". He was trying to move her through to the toilet. He continued despite the abuse and kept up his cheery "Now you don't mean that Bertha, I know you like me really".

Dad started talking - or he could have been talking already and I didn't notice - but I couldn't make out what he was saying. I might have stood a chance of understanding, even above the hoovering, screaming and extractor fans but for the fact that it was gibberish. If there had been some thread of sense to follow I could have done it but the words I managed to get made so little sense it evaded me. "Fankle, he was grown. Not up, you understand, but she had seven or eight. Grantedly she hives pink but muddle." He finished his chat with "But, then, you never was very good at picking up new things". Ho hum.

I'll try and see him during the week. I can't face him not having any visitors for a week. It must be so bleak. Even if he doesn't remember I've been, surely some comfort must be drawn from seeing a face he knows.