I went into dad's section and looked for him all over, finally going to the desk and asking where he was. He was sitting right behind me, and I'd walked right past him. Neither of us had recognised the other.

I think I'd glanced at him on the way in, because I think I looked at everyone, but obviously his appearance didn't ring any bells. I knelt down and saw only that he recognised me but couldn't identify me. 'Do you know who I am?' I asked. He hesitated. 'I'll give you a clue: I'm one of your sons,' I said. Even then, I had to introduce myself.

Dad immediately asked if I had come to take him out, take him home. I said I hadn't, but that we could go out to a cafe if he liked. 'Then go home after that?' he asked. Again I had to disappoint him. By the time we had got a key, found his room, and got him into his shoes and jacket, it was looking as if my time was running out. I walked him out and round to the door next door, passing my car on the way. 'See that car, dad? That used to be yours.' He seemed amazed.

Mum's eyesight is incredible; she saw us right across the room as soon as we came in, and returned my wave. Mum and dad kissed, and then I found a double armchair for them to sit in together. They don't speak. Dad just likes to sit there and mum usually doesn't mind, as long as there is one of us there too. I took a good photo of them. Mum tried to tell me long and complicated things about things, but it is all just soft grunts and mumbling sibilance now. Only occasionally do phrases like 'and so', 'but then' come out. Dad soon closed his eyes and appeared to doze off. He tapped his foot and mouthed lyrics to the music that was playing ('Wonderful wonderful Copenhagen' and 'Hands, knees and bumpsadaisy'). He also opened his eyes and grinned when he heard me talk about him.

By this time I was sure that the trip outside had been forgotten, and so I took dad back and promised to be there again on Friday. Mum had seemed quite anxious at times. She put her head in her hand and almost began crying at one point. I had to keep telling her 'It's all right, mum. Everyone's looking after you.' She looked at me in a strange way when I said this, as if to say, 'Is it? It is really all right? Are you sure? Oh, I do hope so!'

Mum's area seems a bit nicer than dad's, which smells more strongly of urine, and has some noisy residents who irritate dad - people who repeat the same thing over and over all day, or keep laughing loudly. I feel sorry for him. He wasn't able to cope any more on the outside, but I think he deserves a bit better than what he's ended up with inside.

Dad's lost his glasses, so Greg has ordered two new pairs, each of which will have his name engraved in the glass. This will mean that if anyone else takes dad's, the staff ought to be able to see the mistake, and if they simply get lost, they should be easily returned. One wonders why all the residents don't have this. Instead they have sticky labels attached to their glasses, which they always pick off.