The latest medical alarm is that there is a large hot red swelling on one of dad's legs. The people at the day care centre were concerned enough to call Rachel about it. I took dad to the local medical centre and he has been put on a short course of antibiotics. I need to phone him twice a day to remind him to take them. I've glued the packet of pills to the wall above the telephone (and in view of the webcam) so I can tell him where to find them. Just another day in the lives of the wrinklies.

Today mum seemed drowsy, but definitely calmer and less highly-strung. I applied a little test to her:

'Mum,' I said, inclining my head towards dad briefly, 'has he been behaving himself?'

Normally this elicits rolling of the eyeballs, heavenward glances, and exasperated shaking of the head. In her eyes, dad or whoever this imposter really is, never behaves himself. Except that today she replied differently:

'Oh, yes,' she smiled. So perhaps the Risperidone is working. The Aricept, on the other hand, appears to be running out of puff. Neither mum nor dad are any better now than when we started with it a few months ago. But enough of the medical stuff...

When we were out this afternoon dad and I passed a barber's on the way to the supermarket.

'Ah, I need to get my hair cut,' said dad.

I did a quick mental comparison - which of these two is less time-consuming:
  1. Dad and I walk to the ATM and the supermarket at dad's walking pace.
  2. I put dad in the barber's chair and get his hair and beard trimmed while I walk to the ATM and supermarket at my walking pace.
No contest. Option two, it was. When I returned it looked like there were still a few minutes' work still to do on dad, so I asked one of the hairdressers what she could do for me in 5 minutes. A number 4 shearing was the result. I keep my hair short anyway, at a cost of $95 at a much-lauded salon (with glasses of Chardonnay and nubile head massages thrown in, of course), but today's cut, taking only about five minutes and costing $25, is not that different, just shorter. I look slightly more thuggish, but I come from a family of thugs anyway. I feel like rough velvet, and I rather like it. Dad's haircut was well received, too. The first thing he did when he came in through the door was ask mum what she thought of his newly trimmed beard. She gave it a stroke and said, 'lovely!' Now there's a change!

Dad actually looked quite urbane for a few minutes, until his hair started to get ruffled again. He has funny hair. It is white and tends to whirl up to a point in the middle of his head. When a friend of mine saw a picture of him once she rolled around on the floor laughing because, with his pointed beard and pointed head, he looked so much like a garden gnome. It was as if the hair was just waiting for the pointed cap to settle over it.

I laid out ham and cheese sandwiches and peaches in jelly for mum and dad, and sat with them as they ate. Mum seemed excited when a bus went past outside. Dad said:
'When we first moved here, there was a bus-stop right outside our gate. They've moved it down the road now.'
'I remember,' I said. 'There's been a few changes since then. There used to be a "Christmas tree" down there in the garden. Mum used to put tinsel on it at Christmas.'
'Where is it now?' asked dad. 'Have you got it?'
'No, it was a real tree, dad. I think it just died.'
'A real Christmas tree? Here?'
'Well, it wasn't actually a pine tree. It just had the right shape. It was conical, not conifer.'
Dad laughed at the deliberate word-play. Soon afterwards he was asking me why I wasn't eating.
'I'm going to eat at Greg's place later tonight.'
'It's a long time since we were up there,' he said. 'I don't think we ever had dinner up there.'
'Of course you did, dad.' I said. 'You've had more dinners up there than you've had hot dinners.'
He laughed again at this; partly at the absurdity, partly at the parody - 'than you've had hot dinners' was always one of dad's favourite comparative phrases. This engagement of dad's with not just the subject but also the style of the conversation, a style I rather enjoy, was satisfying for me.

Watching them eating, seeing mum relaxed, and joking with dad made this an enjoyable visit - unlike all the others I've made in the last few weeks.