36) He has kept EVERYTHING. He isn't faring well and neither am I.

 While dad's been in hospital, I've made a start on sorting the ENORMOUS amount of paper in his house. It's apparent he's kept every letter, every bank statement, every envelope, every bit of junk mail, every receipt, every lidl magazine, every cereal box, every serviette, every newspaper, that's come into the house since 1959. 

Each bank statement or update or anything is still in its individual envelope. Each envelope is covered in dust or has a nasty stain or an embedded dead spider or something equally unpleasant. All the paperwork stinks of his house.  Now my happy place stinks of his house. My family are complaining and I need an industrial shredder to replace my small one which has almost burned out.

Various people have visited dad over the past few days and I've had different reports of how he's doing from 'He's OK' to 'He was loud' to 'he was a little confused.'

Visiting is 2 til 4 or 6 til 8, avoiding tea time at about 5pm as they need the patients to eat with no disruptions. Dad is on a liquid diet anyway. I finish work at 4 and I work 15 minutes away so I have to either kill time or drive home and back.

I went in with Ant. Dad was asleep. I touched his hand gently and he looked at me confused and then at Ant. 'Ah Ant, thank you for coming yesterday and again today.' Ant hadn't - this was his first visit since he came with me Monday.

'I haven't got long left' he said. 'I know that.' then he went to sleep, moments later he perked up but was still asleep. 'HELLO,  HELLO,' he said as if he were talking to a long lost friend who he liked very much or to a small grandchild or something. Where's the dog?' He doesn't have a dog. 'I still want a dog you know.'

Will you help me off with these damn shoes - I need to lie down and get some sleep. Is somebody going to help me get these damn shoes off. I've been asking for an hour. He'd been asleep for the past 35mins and he was already lying down - he had no shoes on.

'Why do you keep waking me up?' he asked - I just need to get some sleep. 

He was talking a whole load of twaddle to be fair. He made no sense and then he said, 'Why are you just standing there like a lemon?'

I asked the nurse who said he'd been chatting earlier and he'd had breakfast and had walked himself to the toilet on his zimmer frame. This was very unlike the man in front of me. Dad asked the nurse if she'd get his shoes off. She said he didn't have shoes on. He's having antibiotics in liquid form as he can't swallow the capsules. She sat him up to take it. The nurse said his blood pressure etc were all good. She left.

A moment later he said 'I need to go for a leak. Is someone going to help me?' We weren't sure if he meant it, but he then shouted it more urgently so we got the nurse for him and she took him. he used the zimmer but couldn't walk very well.

I took Ant home and took a few more boxes for sorting. It's now 2am and I've just finished 3 of the 6 boxes from today. He really has kept EVERYTHING paper from that house. See photos...

Some After Eight chocolates dated 2013

A Radio Times magazine Feb 2013

An event timetable from RMS Mauretania dated 24 Sept 1960

Oh no - we missed the deadline.

Comet folded YEARS ago.

35) Monday 15th June 2026. Mansplaining on a whole new level and a walk in the woods.

 

I'd heard from others who had been to visit, that dad was improving now. The doctor had confirmed last week that the new stent had been fitted successfully, so he could eat soft food. He was now off the oxygen and was a feeling better.

According to the nurse, he was sitting up chatting in bed the morning after the stent and much improved.

I'd booked a weekend away with my 5 fabulous cousins in a log cabin in the Forest of Dean. We booked it in October last year. The same 6 of us have been away twice before for one or other of our big birthday celebrations and always have a fabulous time. I walked 20,572 steps through the forest on my first full day there, 11,489 on the 2nd day and 8087 on the last day. We walked for miles and when we got back to the cabin we all had a vino or two in the hot tub and a chat and a laugh under the stars. Perfect. I'd intended to take my mind off the situation at home, and to be fair, by request, we spoke very little about it, which suited me fine.

However, the day I came home, I had to go visit himself in hospital. I went to town first to get a pack of 2 men's pyjama bottoms in Primark, having ignored dad's advice to 'Just take a quick trip to M&S to get me some pyjamas.' I suspect he had not bought pjs in M&S since they were £5 a pair, if ever. 

I collected Ant and we got to the hospital at 7.30pm. We found dad on ward C7, having been moved that day from B6. On seeing us, he said 'Ah. Right. Have you spoken to the doctor?' I said I'd spoken to her on the phone. He continued, 'You know I've just had to wait 37 minutes for someone to bring me one of these.' He held up a hospital disposable male urinal bottle thing (the cardboard ones). It was one of 4 on his bedside table. He went into minute detail on the time he'd asked and how many nurses he'd asked and he carried on moaning about how he shouldn't be expected to wait that long. It was ridiculous, he said. Next he went on about his washing and how the nurses wanted to change him every day and that too was ridiculous. Next he started on about when he was going to have his 'street' fitted. That, he said, was also ridiculous; that they'd sent him to the other hospital to have it fitted but they could only put a camera down and because the doctors were all training from home, there weren't enough people to fit the street, he said, as they needed seven people, and one of the doctors, working from home, had children who were running around and creating dust, which, of course, he said ,was bad for street fitting...

Eh?

I reminded him it was a STENT, and it had already been fitted. 'Yes,' he said. 'But they can't fit a street if they're not in the hospital.' 

What?

I repeated they'd told me it was already fitted. He looked at me, highly irritated by my apparent stupidity and lack of understanding and creased his face into an exaggerated eye-roll. Then, while playing the air piano, and with his eyes closed so he didn't have to keep looking at the irritation in front of him who clearly didn't understand, despite him talking to her in an agitated tone with loud simple one-syllable words, each delivered in a verbal bullet point and with a crash of the air piano keys, 'Yes, but they need more people to fit the street you see. I keep telling you that.'

When he'd said his piece, he opened his eyes and clocked me daring to look out of the window with the MOST bored expression I could muster. He'd already explained the minutai of his 'street requirements' many times since I'd arrived. Each word I dared to utter was met with an irritated scowl.

'Your STENT was fitted last Thursday.' I told him.

'My... something went where?' he said, looking at me as if I was simple.

'Dad. Your STENT is already fitted. The doctor told me and as you so clearly don't believe me or don't understand me, I'll go ask the nurse to explain.' I managed to find a lovely nurse, a petite lady with a no-nonsense yet gentle attitude and a strong African accent, who agreed to explain. She went in and told him straight. He argued with her and she gave up and left. I apologised - he didn't appear to listen to women, but thanked her for her time. 

The conversation followed its usual form, him sitting in bed acting like everybody was there to serve him and him telling us YET AGAIN, everything that was wrong with him in the tiniest detail and what needed to be done to put it right. He didn't ask how we were, how was the family, how was my weekend, or anything else about anything outside. He never does.

He truly is the very epicentre of his very own little universe.  His mansplaining is off the scale. He now mansplains everything he's already told me twice, everything I have already confirmed to him and then he mansplains a summary. Now he is mansplaining a fantasy imagined world, albeit one where he is still the epicentre. He then mansplains why I should listen to him and mansplains why he is mansplaining - because he doesn't know what I have listened to.

As end of visiting approached, he said. 'Look we all agree that it's of the utmost importance for them to get my street done, so I can eat, then I can get stronger, then they can do my cataract and I can see again and then I can come home. At least we're all on the same page as far as that's concerned!'

Are we though?

34) Monday 8th June Another attempt to fit a new stent.

 I went to visit again, with Ant, after work as I'd heard from another church person visitor that he was fading fast. I spoke briefly to the nurse on the way into his room and she said they were going to try and fit a new stent as soon as possible, hopefully the following day, but they'd need him to stabilise first with his blood pressure and blood oxygen levels. They'd need to send him to another hospital in Cardiff a few miles away for it to be fitted as they had a different machine.

He was in bed, but awake when we got there. He asked if we'd spoken to the nurse and I confirmed we had. He made a huge effort to sit up, I'm not sure why as we could hear him fine. He's obviously in pain with his stomach. The sign above his head 'NIL BY MOUTH' reminded me he hadn't eaten proper food for a long while and as a result is looking frail and thin. When he'd sat up he started to tell us they were looking to fit a new stent as soon as possible. He said he was aware the stent fitting may be the end of him but he'd be dead in a few weeks anyway if he didn't have it fitted. He asked if we all agreed we knew the risks and it was the best thing to do. We did. 

He said 'a stupid young female' had told him he wasn't quite ready yet, because his blood levels needed to get better, but apparently, he said, she didn't understand, if he didn't have the stent fitted, he'd die.

There was silence for a moment, then, 'Could you sort out my pyjamas?' he asked. It's totally ridiculous - they change the sheets every single day and pyjamas as well. How damn stupid is that? I mean surely normal people wear pyjamas for at least two weeks before washing them...' I clocked the whole room was silent..

'No Dad, a week maximum - absolute maximum, and it depends if you wear anything underneath as well...'

He wasn't convinced. 'Really?'

'Yes dad. Really!'

He was wearing a hospital gown so we said we'd take his pjs home and wash them then bring them back asap.

The conversation was very stunted because he was in a four bed ward and the other three patients and their visitors were all silent and he speaks loudly due to his hearing difficulties. We all knew this was a possible last-ever conversation. If the stent fitting didn't work then he'd not be able to eat and that would be the end. If the stent fitting went wrong, that also could have been the end. It's hard to be emotional and have a private conversation with 5 other people listening.

We gave him a hug and a kiss and we went home. I looked back and he was watching us leave. I bit my lip. hard.

Tuesday morning I had a call about 12.30 - they had been intending to take him to Llandough Hospital to have the stent but they'd not been able to find any transport to take him, they were still trying and had escalated it to management. I rang them at 4 and they said he'd just left for Llandough. At 6pm Llandough called me and said he'd had the stent done and was sitting up in hospital and would stay there overnight and will be returned to the Heath hospital tomorrow.

33) Back in the room - Oh there i go making problems everywhere I go. Again!

                                    I went for a walk in the woods recently to calm my nerves.
 

Thursday 4th June 2026.  Went to visit dad in hospital - the choking incident had persuaded me he may not be here long so I guilt tripped myself into visiting him.

I took my daughter for moral support. My daughter is 20 and after she turned 18 I told her it was her choice whether she wanted to have her grandad in her life. She decided she absolutely 100 percent did not ever want to see him ever again, neither did her twin sister or her older brother, which is upsetting for me as I have to keep lying to dad as to why they never come to see him with me. However, I do understand their reasons. He's never been there for them and virtually ignored them all their lives.  When he did speak to them it was about how fantastic their brother was. He doesn't ever want to see his grandad again either..

He said about a month ago, when we were on the subject of seeing grandparents,  that he remembered when Ant and I were small, his mother used to walk a mile and a half every day to come and see us and help feed us and help my mother out (doubtless while he was in the garden...).'Every day, she came,' he said, 'yet my own grandchildren hardly ever come to see me...' He realised, mid-rant that he was actually digging himself a hole.

I was on it. 'Yet you didn't come to see your own grandchildren much at all, did you dad even though you drove, had a car, and lived a lot closer.'

'Well you always seemed to want me out. I never felt welcome...' he said. As if he would ever recognise when he wasn't welcome.

Probably because I had three children under two and a half, dad. I was rushed off my feet and that was just never going to happen was it?'

'Oh don't start arguing now,' he said, must you always argue about everything.'

At the hospital visit my daughter came for the visit with me, as support for me and no other reason. She had a jaw operation only ten days before and we thought it'd be good for her to get out of the house.

When we arrived he was awake in bed and said 'Ah, there you are. I wondered when  you'd get here. Sit down, he said to me, gesturing to the bedside chair, which had an incontinence sheet on it. 

'It's OK I'll stand.' I said. Ignoring this he again said for me to sit down and fo rmy daughter to sit on the chair that wasn't there. We said we'd stand.

Silence,

Then he piped up 'Well, what is it you've come to tell me?'

'Er - what - nothing, what d'you mean?' I said, confused.

'So you haven't come to tell me anything.' he said with an air of finality.'

'No'

'Right.'

More silence.

'So, how have you been?' I managed

'What?' he snapped.

'How have you been?' I said, not knowing what else to say.

'Have you had those windows done yet?' he asked, referring to the double glazed windows needing replacement in his house as they are all misted inside.

'Not yet, we were going to get this stent done first weren't we dad?'

'What?'

'Your stent. We wanted to get that out of the way first.'

'What about the stent?' he snapped.

It's more than difficult to have a conversation with an irritable almost deaf person, especially when you are in a 4 bed ward when the other patients don't have visitors and can clearly hear every word. It sounds piffling, like a conversation one may have with a distracted three year old. You become very conscious of every word. Also as the others are behind a curtain they have no idea of body language or of facial expression and no idea of the history of the people talking.

'Dad. Listen. We wanted to have your stent fitted before we went worrying about the windows didn't we?'

'Well of course we did. Have you got a date for the fitting yet?'

'No, dad, because the stent isn't done yet is it?'

'Well I KNOW THAT don't I!' he snapped back.

I sighed. 'Dad you also said you wanted to see a sample of the windows they were fitting didn't you? and they can't do that while you're here, can they?' He had let the fitters measure up and, once they'd left, he moaned to me that they hadn't shown him a sample of the windows - he thought the man would bring a sample round in a padded shoulder bag, like they did in the 80's. This, despite me explaining they were all regulated now, and the one I had carefully chosen were recommended by WHICH magazine. 

In truth I had done so much for him over the previous eight months, boiler service, door fixing, drain repair, tap switching, rail fitted outside, key safe, rail inside, steps fixed, taken him to appointments almost every week at the GP or the hospital. I needed a break. It was yet another thing I had to do for him on my to do list.

He paused and looked at me, there was a short silence. 'There's always a problem where you're concerned isn't there?'

He looked at my daughter, 'Your mum always brings problems wherever she goes doesn't she?' he asked her.  It was the first thing he'd said to her since we'd got there. He didn't ask how her operation had gone, how she felt, how was Uni, nice to see her - nothing. The only thing he said to her was to get her to agree with him for a comment against me. She turned to look out the window.

'Hide the axes,' I said to her, half joking. 'The cheeky sod.' I clenched and unclenched my fists.

I checked my watch. 8pm. End of visiting time. 'Ok, we have to go it's 8 o'clock.' I said.

'No! Eight, already. Surely not. No it isn't that late is it? No it can't be.'

'It's eight dad. I have a watch.'

'Oh hello,' he said, flagging down the nurse, angellic as a fairy. 'Do you know the time?'

'Visiting time's over.' she said, and carried on her way.

'When will I see you now? he asked. 'So if it's Friday today, Will I see you on the weekend?'

'It's Thursday dad. I've been in work all day. Trust me, it's Thursday, I've been writing it down all day.'

He lay there with his fingers counting the days, arguing with me what day it was.

I'd had enough. 'I'll see you when I can dad, OK. I've got to go.' I turned and left him there. As I did so, I caught the eye of the man in the bed opposite. He was laughing his head off and giving me a thumbs up with a wink/ He'd heard everything and I got the feeling he was rooting for me.

32) It's not looking good - the chicken and mushroom pie.

Here is a photo of a shoe I found in dad's bedroom. The shoe has clearly never been worn as it still has its sale label inside. However, the sole just fell off when I picked it up. It's one of about 80 shoes visible in his house. None of which appear to have a partner.

 Tuesday 2nd June 2026.

09.34am another call from the hospital, a nurse dialled and passed him the phone. He said is was SO difficult to get through to me (good). This time, apparently, it was quite urgent and he wanted me to call a lady at the church who'd been visiting him yesterday when he had his delusional episode. Realising he'd been confused, he wanted to ensure she wasn't going to put an article in the church magazine saying he only had days left to live. 

About an hour later the nurse rang back - said they were probably going to get dad's stent done tomorrow as an urgency as he couldn't eat at all and so she'd cancel the cataract op. She wanted to know if she could sign the consent form on my behalf.  Dad had mentioned a week or so ago that the stent was his only chance and he had to take it, even if it was the end. He hoped we understood what he was saying. We did.

I said I'd call her. He said it had kept him awake all night but he hadn't been able to get anyone to call me. He clarified it didn't have to be done straight away but in the next 2 -3 minutes would be ok. I agreed to call her. 

'Love you'. He said and hung up (he never says that). 

I rang the church lady, who laughed - she'd been a little concerned as he'd seemed confused, she said she'd never had any intention of putting such a thing in the church newsletter.

10.49am, the hospital rang again, a doctor on the ward, who wanted to know some more background from me. She confirmed he was still somewhat confused and wanted to discuss the DNR and whether it was still our wishes. I said we'd discussed it with dad previously and he agreed it was right. Once your heart stops, it's time to go. It was discussed when we were doing his PoA about 2 years ago. 

I reminded the doctor dad had his cataract appointment the next day and even if I had to take him myself then I would, as it was so important to him. I mentioned the appointment was 3 hours and if it wasn't going ahead then we needed to let the clinic know so as not to waste the appointment. The doc said she'd sort it.

At 15:58 I spoke to his church friend, who said when she went in he was on oxygen. Apparently he'd eaten some chicken and mushroom pie (which he shouldn't have been given, but he's an adult etc etc), he'd choked on it and they'd given him oxygen at a high level to begin with and had now reduced it. He was still coughing quite heavily and shivering. She was worried. He was also confused although he appeared to vaguely understand what was happening. 

At 22:35 I had another call - from the consultant on duty. Dad had remained confused and still coughing - they feared the chicken had gone into his lungs, which could cause infection, so they'd already started him on antibiotics for that. However, they were concerned he'd become confused again and now wasn't responding to them at all.

I understood he had choked and was now unresponsive, and believing they were explaining the end was near, I was in tears. I asked them to tell me if anything worsened, even if it was middle of the night. Doc said he would.

I rang Ant, explained about the choking, but didn't tell him any more as I needed to deal with it myself first. As Ant is by himself, I didn't want him worrying. I said if I heard anything I'd call him in the morning, He was ok with that.

8.00am the next day I hadn't heard anything so I dubiously called the hospital. 'Ah,' said the nurse. 'yes he's sitting up in bed drinking his coffee and asking when they'll be fitting his stent'.

Great!

He didn't have the stent done as when HD lay down his blood levels dropped 

 

31) Total panic stations. Two hours to live... or not.

 3.05pm Monday 1st June, I had a phone-call from the hospital, a nurse had called me from the ward for dad and then passed the phone to him. He sounded extremely distressed and worried. He asked was I on my way in. I said no, I was in work. He said 'Oh hell!'

I asked what was the matter and he said he'd been given some extremely bad news but couldn't tell me over the phone. He said it was very, very bad news and he wanted to tell me in person. He said I'd need to come to the hospital as soon as I could, straight from work and he wanted me to bring Ant but I needed to come soon. He said he needed to tell both of us together.

I panicked and called Ant, however he doesn't have a mobile phone as he doesn't understand how to use one. I rang every five minutes until he answered at 3.30. I thought he was having a panic attack when I called him but he said he'd just walked up the hill and was out of breath.

I asked if he wanted a coffee first but he said no. They let me leave work and go early. I drove to get Ant and explained we should prepare for the worst. My head was in a turmoil and I didn't know what to say to Ant, although he was talking ten to the dozen about fifty different things so I didn't have much time to think. We got to the hospital ward about 4:30. I expected to be ushered into a side room, but dad was in the corridor on his way to the bathroom and said 'Ah - I didn't expect to see you for a few hours.' 

The nurse came over and told us we weren't supposed to be there as it wasn't visiting hours until 6. Strange! I said I knew about visiting hours but he'd called me and said he'd been given very very bad news and it was urgent we came in very soon... The nurse looked at me confused and asked what news. I didn't know. When dad came back he told the nurse he wanted to tell us the bad news before he went.

Confused looks all around. The nurse asked him what bad news, and where did he think he was going?

He said he'd been told that afternoon, by some female he'd assumed was a nurse, that he was to be put in a small, dark two bed flat by himself and he'd never see his family or house again and would be dead in two days and that he was going to be taken there in a minute by the nurse. He was very distressed and looked distraught. I actually felt sorry for him.

The lovely young nurse with an Irish accent told him kindly he may have misunderstood and he wasn't going anywhere and that he was maybe confused. He didn't think so.

She explained again loudly and firmly, he was staying with them for a while and they weren't sending him anywhere.  He seemed to accept this and apologised for misleading me and Ant to coming in. He was really emotional and asked us to have a family hug - which he's NEVER done in his life. He wanted each of us to sit by his side - Ant on his left and me on his right and he held his arms out for us. At first me and Ant kind of went - Er no - it's Ok - er we don't - um... I said 'I'm OK here.'  Then sensing it may just be something we needed to do. We both sat each side of him and had a family hug on the hospital bed.

We said we'd have to go as it wasn't visiting hours and he was more relaxed now he realised he'd got it wrong. I think his confusion had something to do with the occupational health nurse mentioning that he couldn't go home until he was better and perhaps he would spend a small amount of time in a local care home until he improved. She may have asked him if he could walk with her to test his mobility. I think possibly he interpreted that as she was taking him away.

Anyway, we both gave him a big hug and told him we loved him. I gave him a kiss on the top of his head and a hug and said I'd see him soon.

I was a little concerned the nurse who dialled the call out to me, heard what he was saying yet did nothing to reassure him. Also the occupational health person for not making sure he understood properly.

Although nobody seemed to know anything.

My head is fried.

30) Back in hospital again. The coat the soap and the small black dog that wasn't.

 30).  29.5.26

Here's a lovely photo of Barry Island. It has nothing to do with the blog but calms me 😵‍💫.

Friday 29th May 2026 - The man (I will not refer to him as dad), has been in hospital since he fell off the bed on Wednesday (see previous post). I thought it may be nice, for him, if I went to visit.

I went straight from work to fetch Ant, and we headed for the hospital. 

We finally found him. 

'Hello,' I said, moving all his stuff so I could sit on the bedside chair. 'How're you feeling?'

'Wat! Oh it's you. Where's Ant? Is Ant with you? Where is he?'

Ant pulled up a chair. 

'Ant - is that you? Oh don't sit there I can't see you. Come closer.' The man became irritated. 'You have no idea how exhausting it is having all these visitors all day. It wears me out, it really does.' He sighed deeply. 'Whatsisname from church has been in. Oh what's his name?' he flapped his hand in the air attempting to waft the name to him.

'Arthur' I said.

'The man from the church...'

'ARTHUR.' I said

He carried on flapping his hand, faster now. 'What's the damn chap's name? Ant! What's his name - from the church?'

'Arthur' said me and Ant simultaneously.

'Arthur!' said the man, as if he'd figured it by himself. 'Yes, Arthur. That's the one. He came in to see me. Lovely man, practically runs the church. Anyway I've given him a list of three things I need. He said he'd call you later Izabelle, I said ten o'clock was a good time. Anyway, I need, a shaving adapter and... Have you got a pen?'

'I don't need a pen. I can remember...'

'Wat?  Have-you-got-a-pen?' he used his monosyllabic voice.

'I don't need a pen.'

'You don't need a pen... right! I need a shaving adapter...' he clocked the look of total numbness on my face. 'Izabelle, are you listening? I don't know if you're listening. Look why don't you write it down? Go and ask the nurses for a pen and a scrap of paper.'

'If Arthur's going to call me then I don't need a pen, do I? Just tell me, dad. I'll remember OK.'

'A shaving adapter and... a shoehorn... There. Three things - have you got that?'

'That was only two.'

'Wat? Have you written them down - the three things I need.'

At this point my mobile rang, - my daughter asking when I'd be home.

The man looked at me as I hung up. 'Was that a man about a lovely black doggy?' he said.

I looked at him, confused. 'What doggy? What man? what are you talking about?'

He became frustrated, his face turned puce and contorted. He glared at me, slammed his fist on the table and spat. 'DAMMIT! Was that about the little black poodle type dog we're getting from the dogs home? For Ant - he's going to need a dog when I'm gone dammit.' He bashed his fist on the table again and demanded, 'Well? Was it them?'

'No!' I said, and because I wasn't going to take him giving me that attitude, I asked why he thought they'd phone me anyway.

His face turned purple, his fist formed again and I'm sure he'd have hit me had I been close enough. 'BECAUSE YOU'RE MY BLOODY POWER OF ATTORNEY. THAT'S WHY!' His fist hit the bed this time and he pushed the table, tipping his water. He screamed the words with total venom at me. As he did so, he got a twinge of pain somewhere and grabbed his sides. 'You really have no idea how much it hurts when you make me shout.' 

I refuse to be spoken to like that. I told him so and got up and walked out, tears of fury running down my face. I got as far as the nurses station and stopped to wait for Ant. The nurse asked if I was ok. I wasn't and it all came tumbling out and, once again, I turned into a blubbery mess. She said she was about to take him his medication. I enquired whether she could perhaps give him extra medication... was she perhaps open to bribery? Turns out she wasn't.

Ant came running after me like a little puppy, as if I was going to leave without him. I sent him back in but said I needed time to calm down.

After a lovely chat with the nurse I decided I'd have to go back in just in case it was the last time I saw him. As I appeared, the man acted like nothing had happened. 'Ah Izabelle,' he said. I wanted to tell you my yellow coat needs fixing, it's ripped by the pocket you see, and things fall out: so when you have a minute could you take a look at it?'

'We've got to go.' I told him numbly. He reached out for a hug. He didn't get one.

*    He knows I can't go in a house where there's a dog. Due to my years living in his disgusting mess as a child, I can't tolerate dust or animals. Highly allergic, not just a sneeze or two. How he thinks I'm going to manage to deal with all the crap in the house when he's gone with a dog living there, I don't know, but then my health was never on his list of priorities.