At 13:15 the Old Man told me he hadn’t had lunch, but was going to have soup. When I asked him whether he knew where the saucepans were kept, he asked me whether I was coming to Peakville to eat it [sic]. I explained that the saucepans were in the cupboard under the sink.
“Are you trying to be funny?” he asked.
I simply didn’t want him to use a glass bowl on the hob.
At 16:25 the Old Man hadn’t had soup, or anything. I told him to make a cup of tea.
He was pressing me to come to Peakville before the following weekend — I told him this was not possible.
At 17:10 he still hadn’t had anything.
By 18:35 he had had a cup of tea, and perhaps a teacake. He said he was “out of sorts”. I persuaded him to drink some water.
At 19:45 I got the Old Man to drink more water from the water-bottle. He volunteered, after drinking, that he had been thirsty.
I got him to turn the TV on, and the sound on. He couldn’t select the Sky Sports channel that he wanted to watch.
At 20:25 we started with the Old Man’s evening medication. I sent him off to refill his water-bottle, as he said it contained only “a mouthful”.
He sounded more coherent now, but this improvement was fleeting — it all went downhill when we came to mustering the tablets.
An extra pill, small and white, had appeared from somewhere. I told him to put it back into the sandwich-box, or throw it away.
A new variant on co-codamol: “Coco de vol.” (I had already got him to take the evening’s first four tablets.)
[Original posting 23 May 2011]