22nd July 2008 - I'm building an ark

I know it's a national obsession - complaining about the weather - but holy mother am I sick of the rain. I can't remember a day when it didn't rain. The kids are on holiday from school and I ran out of indoor things to do in the first week and patience with childrens TV the second week.

I'd planned - too - to take Dad out in a chair when the summer was here. Just round the gardens, or down the road for a tea, or something, anything, to get him out of the home, get some fresh air. But I can't in the rain.

Ellie's rebelling against going in to see Dad. Mark has, for a long time now, been uncomfortable with it, but Ellie's been ok really up until now. She's always been scared of a couple of the residents but, mostly, if I brought he a sweetie and some colouring pens and books, she was fine. She's more aware now, she's getting some understanding of the lives of the residents, how bleak it is and how sad. She knows that when we are not there her grandad just wanders about and sleeps where he stops, only to wake to wander again until someone takes him to get fed, or changed. She knows he doesn't make sense.

So, I'm not seeing much of Dad over this god awful summer. I'm only managing to see him two or three times a week. He doesn't seem to mind. I can't remember the last time he called me by my name, or the last time we had an exchange that lasted past the initial serve and return. He never serves, and his return is often nonsensical. If I do bat it back, he can't follow, just ignores it. I hope he's not aware. I'm sure he's not aware, not all of the time - but I know he does still get flashes of clarity - I can see it in his face, moments when he knows what's happening, where he is and why. He's scared, he's lonely, he's bored and miserable. And it's fucking raining.