Yesterday dad went to an exercise class, hymn singing, an outing to Warriewood and had a beer at the bar. He did not go to see mum, since the manager has decided that that might be better, from mum's point of view, if it only occurs every two days.

Dad's day was not entirely smooth sailing. At one stage he literally shook the gate and asked to be let out. It was at this very moment that his GP arrived to admit him. Seeing dad's distress he has prescribed a sedative to be administered as and when needed. The home now has a supply of this. It seems a good thing that they have this up their sleeve. The manager asked the doctor if dad was in the right kind of facility (her thought was that perhaps he ought to be in a home for dementia). The doctor, however, as quite emphatic that dad belongs here.

Greg went to visit, and found dad in reasonably good spirits. Dad offered to show Greg his room. Greg had to lead dad to it. A few of the ladies have taken quite a shine to dad; this is the way things usually go. What is surprising is that the majority of them seem perfectly alert and capable of looking after themselves. It seems that they have chosen to live in the home for convenience and economy.

Meanwhile I have enjoyed the luxury of being able to use my phone normally and the pleasure of knowing that when it rings there will be something to discuss.