Mum was still in bed when I arrived at 11:30, and never really made it to the land of the living all day. She at least answered the door and let me into the house. At my encouragement she agreed that getting dressed was better than going back to bed. She seemed on the verge of getting angry, confused and not in the best of health. Her hair was all skewiff and she had a scratched and bloodshot eye.

Meals on wheels arrived a little late and mum sat down to disturb her food - breakfast of shepherd's pie. Time was ticking away, we had to be out of the house by 12:30 so that the cleaning careworker, Alison, could get to work unimpeded by mum's restrictions and caveats. At 12:23 I managed to get mum equipped with jacket and handbag, out the door and into the car, all the time keeping my eye on the other car parked outside the house. Making sure mum was strapped into her seat, I armed the central locking and dashed over to talk to the driver of the other car who was, as I expected, Alison. A quick briefing on the house and then we were away.

It was very hard work keeping mum entertained for two hours with her in this semi-irritable, semi-conscious state. We looked in at the pet store, the sweet shop, the electronics shop (for spy cameras and the like - mum enjoyed seeing herself on 'TV'). We had a slow cup of coffee at the usual cafe, and made a raid on the supermarket.

It was so pleasant to arrive home to a house smelling of anti-bacterial cleaning substances and soap powder, not rotting food and dandruff. Mum's disoriented state served us well; she was unable to see that the house had been transformed in under two hours: floors shone, sinks and bathroom gleamed, bedsheets rotated slowly in the washing machine. New sheets and pillow cases had been fitted to her bed.

Mum had been in a tight little world of her own ever since waking. She seemed more uncertain - both on her feet and of where she was. She had staggered as she got out of my car, and leaned against its side for support. Perhaps this was orthostatic hypotension. She was not unduly distressed, just a little dizzy, She seemed to focus only on things a foot or so away from her, hear nothing other than what was said right into her face. Her small world.

Dad and Rachel arrived home within the next half hour, and we all had afternoon tea and cake (the third of the day for mum).

Two notable coincidences today: Alison recognised the photographs of Cassie around the house - her son goes to the same school and it turns out she is friendly with Regan. The waiter who served mum and I our afternoon tea at the cafe this afternoon was the same one who served Rachel and I, in a different restaurant in a different part of town, on Friday. Small world indeed.