Four pieces of card lie on the table beside my father's chair, each one a reminder:

SOAP

2007

TOOTH PASTE

MLK (crossed out) MILK

'You don't need soap, dad. You've got plenty.'

'Have we? Where?'

So I take him to the bathroom and laundry and point out the various sorbolene dispensers.

'Oh, that's soap is it?'

'Yes,' I lie.

'How do you use it then?'

'How do you use it then?'

'How do you use it then?'

'How do you use it then?'

'How do you use it then?'

'How do you use it then?'

'How do you use it then?'

'How do you use it then?'

This went on for half an hour. Each of my explanations as useless as the next, as useless as not saying anything, as useless as my suggestions that maybe he should just give it a try.

We seem to have reached a point similar to one I remember from a few months ago, when everywhere we look we have partial solutions and loose ends. I suspect some of the old loose ends from the first time are still around; in fact I know they are. It is a Sisyphean task - except that we never seem to reach a summit.