I phoned the Old Man at 20:12, and asked him whether he had been eating anything lately. He insisted that he was eating, but wouldn’t give me any details. When I persisted with asking what he had been eating, he replied:
“Anything I can get my hands on.”
I told him to look for the blue-top and red-top bottles. He found them (maybe) — and if he did find them then I think he did swallow a cod-liver-oil capsule and a multivitamin.
He told me that people had been in the front entrance of the house, and had left “stuff” — when I asked him to clarify that, he said:
“Clothes and things.”
We started the search for simvastatin.
“It’s a wrong thing to do, BLEKE,” he said. I asked what he meant by that.
“To leave a key with [the people] next door.”
He offered lansoprazole.
He said he’d got a simvastatin tablet — it was brown and white. [i.e. it was a lansoprazole]
How do you spell it?” he asked, of simvastatin. I spelt it, twice.
I refused to spell it a third time.
He asked whether he should be looking in the box with “…blue nots.” I corrected him.
“I meant ‘dots’,” he said.
He couldn’t find the simvastatin, or the ferrous sulphate. What, I asked, was he finding in the box?
“Lansoprazole.” — “And what next?” I asked.
Then he offered levothyroxine.
Eventually I told him to pack everything away. We’d sort it out the next morning. “You’re in a muddle,” I said to him, and he concurred.
Our phone-call ended at 20:43.
[Original posting 24July 2011]