OCCUPIED COUNTRY

Welcome to the House of Fun

“Right Dad, now you’ve finished your food let’s get you back to your chair before I have to go.” My Dad slowly rises and grasps his zimmer frame before tentatively making a move for his designated armchair.

At this point I notice a miniscule woman with the complexion of a walnut zimmering like a thing possessed towards us. “You’ve NO RIGHT to sit in that chair, that’s my chair, that’s where I sit when I have a cigarette” she screamed as she aimed for the chair in question, her zimmer frame a blur. “Hang about my Father’s been sat there for the best part of two weeks, that’s the chair they gave him because it’s higher than the others and easier for him to get out of.” She wasn’t having it. “It’s MY chair!” Funny thing was though, neither was my Dad. He set off for his chair with his zimmer going ten to the dozen. “Fuck me” I thought “game on – a race.”

And it was. The pair of them were neck and neck across the tasteful carpet, occasionally hitting speeds of 1 mph. It was exciting stuff and the entire place was agog. They would have taken bets if they could – it was that close. In the end though my Dad’s superior zimmer-handling shone through and he won by a length. The abuse didn’t stop though. The walnut carried on and on until, in the end, my Dad found some more spirit and told her to “SHUT UP!”

It was all too much for the old feller by the window though, he burst into tears and couldn’t be consoled for quite some time.

In the end the carers appeared from wherever it is they disappear to at moments like this and order was soon restored although not for long.

One of the carers had spotted some old man sat out in the sun without a hat on. It was very hot and his bald head was turning a delicious shade of pink. “Where’s your hat Tommy?”

“I don’t know, I can’t find it. Burglars I reckon.”

“It’s not burglars you daft bugger It’ll be you putting it down and forgetting where. I’ll go and find it”

10 minutes later and there’s still no sign of his hat so, worried that he’ll burn, she decides to lend him a sombrero somebody had acquired on holiday.

“I couldn’t find your hat Tommy so I’ll let you borrow this one.” Whereupon she plonks the sombrero on his head.

Tommy suddenly looks serious and slowly raises his hands to his head and feels the hat. Next thing he’s taken it off and is looking at it with disdain.

“You’re taking the fucking piss out of me!” The hat flies Oddjob-like through the air and Tommy glares at the carer.

An old woman in the corner shouts: “He swore. He swore. He swore.” Over and over.

“Shut up you fool.” Says Tommy. Others join in and soon Bedlam reigns again.

Honestly you don’t know what you’re missing. Visit a respite home near you today for hours of top quality entertainment.

One day we had to ask my Dad where his glasses were as he can’t see a thing without them. He didn’t know. We asked the carers if they could find them and about half an hour later they were returned to my Dad.

Some old bloke in another room had found them, took a liking to them and had sat wearing them all day. The thing was though they were varifocals and this guy didn’t need glasses. What the hell he thought he’d been looking at I’ve no idea.

As I was leaving an old woman beckoned me over. "Have you come to see me?"

Life’s rich tapestry.