My 98 years old godfather

has recently moved into aged care. He has gone reluctantly but aware it is the only solution to the problems around his safety.

Yesterday Middle Cat and I went to visit him in his new abode. It was the first time we had been able to go. 

"He should be in his room," we were told. We went to look. No, he was not there. The room is light enough and big enough perhaps but it is rather bare. This was just after two in the afternoon and the bed had not been made. One of the reasons for him moving in was because he fell making his bed at home. He is no longer permitted to make his own bed. The staff are supposed to do it for him.

"Oh, he's gone down to the concert," someone else told us when we asked. She took us down to the "concert". I was thinking my godfather must hate all this. He has been quite deaf since he came home from "the war" - WWII.

We found him sitting there in the group trying to look interested as someone played a ukulele and tried to get people to sing. I went up quietly and stood next to him. He looked up and his whole demeanor changed. "Get me out of here," he told me quietly after we had hugged and kissed.

We got him "out of (t)here" into a much quieter area and talked...and talked...and talked. He didn't complain. He has accepted his fate reluctantly but he does not like unmade beds ("they would never have allowed that in the navy") or "concerts" ("not my sort of music at all"). He would like "someone here I could actually have a conversation with" and "a proper cup of tea now and then in here".

I knew exactly what he meant about the last thing. He loved to sit at our kitchen table with the Senior Cat. The teapot would be there between them. In it would be tea made with loose tea and rainwater. The pot would have been warmed beforehand. My godfather liked tea the way it is made here. Tea made with a tea bag and "just hot water" is not tea at all. 

I can't provide that for him but I produced the packet of chocolate covered biscuits just before we left. He doesn't have diabetes or any other dietary restrictions and he is almost too thin. He likes those biscuits. I would always send him home with the remainder of the packet and something he could heat in his microwave oven. He gave me a smile, "I knew you wouldn't forget the biscuits...now go and put the kettle on and drink that tea for me."

I'll buy another pack before we go again. His daughter has told me there is a new variety he might like to try.