It is a beautiful day and the sun is shining brightly.
We've been to the care home and spent time with our dear pal. He had had a very severe haircut. A pity really, as he has a fine head of silver hair. Never mind, as he said, he needn't have another for six months. My new friend, Margaret, introduced me to a very sweet lady called Christine. They had been given a manicure and proudly showed off their painted nails. Another lady took me by the hand and led me to see her two favourite cushions. I couldn't understand what it was she was telling me but we moved the cushions around the table and stacked one on top of the other. She didn't care for that, so we put them in reverse order and that made her very happy. She settled down with her head on the cushions and dozed. As we were leaving, a male carer introduced himself and asked me from where in the Midlands I had come. I told him Northants. He said, I guessed as much, I'm from Nottinghamshire. It's been about 45 years since I left the Midlands. Funny how one never quite loses the dialect of one's birthplace.