Let's have a selfie!

When my mother was in hospital, she had her mobile phone with her and was able to use it until only a few days before she passed.  At this point I decided to take it home with me and I put it in her handbag which I had placed behind the settee within my reach but out of my dad's sight.  Everything becomes a curiosity to the Dementia sufferer so be careful where you keep your panty liners...I'm just sayin'.

I'd forgotten about the phone until it began to lose it's charge and started 'pinging' one night when my dad had thankfully already gone to bed.  I knew I was going to need the phone for my mother's contacts any time soon so I plugged it in to charge.  I opened up her picture gallery to find hundreds of photos.  The majority of them being her great grandchildren...until I came across this...

What you can't see from this is the number of photo bursts from each shot.  Although I've only used 3 to show you  I could make a photo book from the amount of photos taken.  He even took his glasses off at some point to try and make sense of it all.  I fell about laughing.  I found it so hilarious.  I wonder if my mother ever saw these.  I doubt it.

Poor dad.

This morning I awoke with a lot on my mind.  I got the usual routine underway and tried to get a few things sorted by telephone before it was time to get my dad washed and dressed.  I knew I was taking too long when I saw him make his way to the DVD drawer.  With Columbo looming this early, I decided that the calls could wait til later.  "Shower time dad!" I smiled...disguising my relief.

Since we hadn't gone out yesterday, I took him off to the shopping centre.  On the way there I had the radio playing.  Paul McCartney was being interviewed, plugging a new album from which his latest single was played.  (Are they still called singles these days??)

Anyhoo...we both sat in silence as this tune played and almost immediately I thought what a load of cra....rubbish.  But I let it play on for a bit, hoping that the song would grow on me.  It didn't.  The bridge in the song played, the lyrics sounded out.  "Ichi-ban, ichi-ban..." but only one of us heard them.

"Whit?" my dad looked perplexed, then said,  "Itchy bum???"

"I don't think that's what he's saying dad," I offered.  Not convinced he replied, "well that's what it sounds like to me!"  I switched the radio off.  Paul McCartney and his itchy bum can be appreciated somewhere else.

We had a good wee browse around the shops and stopped off for our usual Costa coffee and cup of tea.  Another routine to be timed accurately.  Keeping his hands occupied by giving him a napkin to unfold allowing me to pour the hot tea from the wee teapot before he has a chance to reach out for it.  Handing him a plate to set down so I can lift the cup and saucer off the tray and put it down in front of him before he tries to grab it midway.

We came home to relax and I sat with him through more episodes (ALL the feckin episodes) of you know who with dad's running commentary of "scruffy buggar!", "he's needing a new coat!", and my favourite "that cigar is never oot his mooth...and it's no even lit!"

Even with the old, you learn something new...

...every day!