Tuesday, 28 December 2021

December 28

December 28

United Kingdom?  Not in the pandemic era.

With Boris Johnson keeping his fingers crossed, shutting his eyes to the danger to save the inevitably curtailed New Year celebrations, the three other nations have gone their own way.

The result, a mishmash of rules and regulations creating confusion and uncertainty.

With the pm laying low, his docile ministers are left to explain why it is.’carry on hoping’ with the blindingly obvious assertion that the situation is  ‘constantly under review’ followed by the inevitable cliche, ‘we will not hesitate’  to act, when that is what he and they have done for months.

It is all a gamble with the nation’s health and no-one, not even the army of ‘experts’ with their consistently worrying ‘worst scenarios’  forecast dire days ahead for the NHS.

But, cheer up. Mankind will soon be able to solve the mystery of the beginning of the universe back in the mists of time even if it cannot work out how to save our world.

Monday, 27 December 2021

December 27

 December 27

Christmas is over, a relief for everyone who  managed to find comfort and joy, especially in the company of family,

My family get togethers were in the few days leading up to Christmas when I was able to show them my new home.

One blessing this week has been the toning down of pandemic news. Sensibly, the media has for a few days stopped parading worrying statistics of cases, hospital admissions and deaths.

It has become an obsession, Pandemic seving no other purpose than adding to people’s worries.

And why it is necessary to show as infinitum people receiving jabs On television news I have sometime counted seven or more in a matter of minutes. 

I have hardly noticed my countless injections over the years but still do not like seeing a needle jabbed into someone else’s arms. It must be off putting for the squeamish.






Saturday, 25 December 2021

Christmas Day

Another pandemic Christmas. Yet for me it is the most exciting for years. I have changed not just my home but my life.

The past two Christmases at Sunrise were made enjoyable by the marvellous carers and team who tried to brighten the lives of the residents.  And a lot of company for me, even though it was not exhilarating.

Today it is totally different. I am on my own in my new flat, but feeling far from lonely, enjoying the luxury of doing as I like when I like.

I think back at Christmases past, almost all of them evoking happy memories. Sad times ones, too. Dad dying at Christmas 79 years ago in wartime 1942, and  Rosemary and Beverley’s deaths within the past five years.

But life goes on and I more than ever appreciate how fortunate I have been all my life. That good fortune is as strong as ever, due to the love and support of all the family, emphasised again in recent days making possible my move and change of life.

This morning I sat unwrapping a load of presents, feeling happier and more settled than for years.

I do not know what the future holds - no one ever can - made even more problematical by the maddeningly lingering pandemic, but I am content to enjoy a quiet but still interesting time.

The success of my eye operation means I can read again after three years and with the Christmas gift from Robert, Karen and Owen of painting materials I can resume my simple effort nurtured by the Sunrise arts class.

What a start to 2022.

Tuesday, 21 December 2021

December 21

 December 2

Confusion reigns. With Christmas just a few days away the prime minister is, as usual, dithering.

The situation is being revised hour by hour, he says, which means that, with his cabinet spilt over ‘cancelling Christmas’ or carrying on partying, he is between the devil and the deep blue sea.

He is probably thinking of ways to ‘party’ even if everyone else has their Christmas ruined.

And it makes me think what a powerful influence the ‘festive season’ has on us. We must be with our family - our ‘loved ones’. We must have the turkey and tinsel. We might even think of the real meaning of Christmas.

If, as seems likely at this late stage, Mr Johnson holds firm on his believe that there is no need need for further restrictions our Christmas 2021 will just about survive….

If he is wrong, as so often, and  the warnings of possible death and disaster from an army of experts prove accurate, it will be another blow to the ‘will I won’t I ‘ primeminister.





Saturday, 18 December 2021

How fortunate

Two weeks after my move from Sunrise my new home is in full working order. Fortunately I have been the same although it has been hard work, but rewarding.

All it needs now to make it even more homely is to have my pictures on the walls.

I am impressed and delighted with everything connected with 10 Bridgeman Court.

It is well designed, with facilities that make it safe and easy, it is luxuriously warm - no need to have the heating on most of the day - and the company of cheerful, helpful residents, all much younger than I.

A huge change from the mostly silent elderly residents at Sunrise.

Even though I have left, Sunrise have been helpful, including providing a supply of medication to tide me over until I have joined a Penarth surgery.

Even better, I have had an almost daily parade of family visitors, all helping me solve problems.

I am looking forward to a unique Christmas, happy to be able to enjoy it.

Robert, Karen, Owen and Rufus are staying in Cardiff for two days immediately after Christmas and I am looking forward to lunches out with them.

I am feeling fit, my eye operation was successful and I am able to read a book for the first time for two years.

What more could I ask for? How fortunate I continue to be.

Thank you, everyone.

Saturday, 11 December 2021

December 11

Life begins at 95. I am in the real world again, And I am excited and relieved.

It is a different world, stimulating and adventurous, which I had thought I had lost.

I am the oldest resident but I hope I will prove young in heart.

I have received a marvellous welcome from everyone and am relishing the new social life.

Each morning at 10 I gone down to the foyer at  a chat with some of them men.

One of the first to greet me was Keith Howells, a friend who lives here and who took me to Dinas Powis to see Alan, another friend, now living alone in a lovely house where we used to meet regularly.

 I also enjoyed a quiz evening although, as usual, not contributing much to our team. My excuse was I could not hear the woman quiz master.

Everyone brought their own drinks and snacks were provided. It was profitable for the Court funds… £3 a head.

I am looking forward to my first Christmas party next week.

So life at Bridgeman Court is proving even better than I expected.










Tuesday, 7 December 2021

My new home

I am in my new home, starting my new life. 

Bob leaves his turret suite at Sunrise for the last time

It was in some way a sad farewell to Sunrise from where I was given an emotional send-off by Virgil, the chief, and all the carers and team. It was the end of an era, almost two and a half years, living in comfort and well cared for, surviving long periods of lockdown and a spell in hospital. 

At Sunrise I did not need the full care given to the other residents. I am old (very old!) but I have proved I can look after myself and become independent again. It was only a few months ago I decided that I could not stay on and possibly get like almost all the residents there. Since I have been in Sunrise I have had only two residents I have been able to chat to regularly. The rest are are in a world of their own, mostly silent, just drifting along, seemingly not recognising or appreciating how fortunate they are to be so well cared for. 

The carers have all been marvellous, efficient and kindly and have become my good friends. But the change in my life is already obvious. What a marathon it was to move my home lock stock and barrel. Brenda and Ivor managed somehow to pack and mark dozens of boxes and bags with the ridiculously huge wardrobe I had unwisely built up over the years. 

On moving day Robert supervised operations, even helping the removal team. When we reached Penarth I realised what an amazing job he and Karen had done.The lighting, heating, wifi and phone were working; the carpets and whole flat had been cleaned. Karen spent had spent days on a marathon shopping spree, completing every item on a huge list of things I needed.

Leaving Penarth for Sunrise in 2019, I got rid of everything apart from all my furniture, which I took with me. So I have had to start from scratch. It was an exciting, emotional drive back and to open the front door of my three-room flat. 

think it is perfect for me, well designed with many facilities for the disabled. I will feel safe here. It was a pleasant surprise to meet most of the residents over the weekend. They are well organised and very sociable. They have already persuaded me to join two Christmas parties and a quiz. I will certainly not be lonely here and I know that I will enjoy my new home and new life.

Tuesday, 30 November 2021

November 30

November 30 An historic date. At least for me. I now have the keys to my new home,10 Bridgeman Court, Bridgeman Road Penarth CF24 3NR.

Not a bad address - said to be the most expensive road in Wales for property. prices. Not mine!

Robert came down for the day yesterday to organise the arrangements which all went perfectly.

I now have four busy days preparing for the move on Saturday..

Exciting times ahead.

Thank you all for your interest, encouragement and support over the past difficult two and a half years. 

Hope to see you all soon in Penarth.



Friday, 26 November 2021

What more could I ask for?

Another milestone in a very long lifetime road. And a memorable one. In November 1926 when I arrived at 20 Bushey Road, West Ham, neither I nor anyone could foresee how exciting and revolutionary the next century would be. it was a smaller world, population just over two billion - now eight billion - and I could expect to live perhaps to seventy, the average life span. 

Roads were bustling with horses and carts - the new fangled cars few and far between. Gas lighting in streets and homes. Coal fires. Food was more basic. Cheap, too but wholesome - a loaf cost twopence. 

So a dull start to little Bob's life? Not at all. I enjoyed those early years and I have continued to enjoy life over the decades, welcoming all the developments and discoveries that have made life more comfortable, more complicated, even if more dangerous. Looking back, I realise and appreciate what good fortune I have had - my parents, brother and sister, home life and a marvellous family that has extended over the years. 

What more could I ask for?

Wednesday, 24 November 2021

The sun sets on Sunrise

As my stay in Sunrise comes to an end there are two celebrations - not for my departure - but to mark the takeover of  the UK care homes run by Sunrise, the US care home group, by the British Care UK company.

Sara Reading, Cardiff general manager, has left to take over the Care UK home in Buckingham.

Virgil, her deputy, is now in charge here at the renamed Llys Cyncoed (Cyncoed Court). An upheaval which ends a unique period in my  life.

The pandemic still makes for an uncertain future but I am looking forward to my new home.

It will be a challenge - these days the word used too often in place of ‘difficult’. There is a big difference and I am relishing the prospect.

I appreciate that I am three years older than when I decided I had to leave Windsor Court in Penarth to come here and be looked after, fortunately a few months before the onset of coronavirus.

Thanks to the brilliant Sunrise carers and whole team I am feeling so much better and am able to look after myself.

But my move would not have been possible without the support of my family.

Robert and Karen have borne the brunt of the mountain of work involved and Brenda made most of the arrangements for my eye operation. Despite the long enforced gaps I have enjoyed so many visits.

I could not be more grateful to you all.

Monday, 15 November 2021

The lessons of history

As most of my family know, my school attempt at history earned me the report, ‘too vague and romantic’. Translated? I made it up. And there was some truth in that.

I was just not interested in dates and facts on royalty so I used my imagination.

It is strange, therefore, that, more than eighty years later, I am absorbed in history. 

Living through the war and, more importantly, the seventy years that followed, I am relishing learning of momentous battles, deadly dictators and national heroes.

It has made me more aware of the literally historic changes that have taken place and are being enacted today.

Having had the luxury in lockdown of time to read and watch television, history is now my favourite subject.

I have just watched two magnificent series, on the last war and Franco’s 40 year rule in Spain. Both were a revelation, bringing to life the events that led to millions of deaths.

Countries are still threatening violence in the name of national self interest. Ignoring the disasters it has caused, blind to the growing dangers not only of war but the impending disaster of global warming,

Will we ever learn?

Sunday, 14 November 2021

Sorry...

‘I am sorry’. A simple expression, one we say every day, mostly over trivial matters.

Failing to apologise has made headlines for weeks now, mainly centred on politicians and the government, their refusal to take the blame for anything.

At the centre of the storm is the prime minister who is a world leader in evasion and truth abstinence.

His latest test has been over the accusations of former government ministers Paterson and Cox to apologise for breaking rules with lucrative second jobs.

Not a word of contrition, just blind, arrogant stubbornness. a steely determination to defend their actions. Even worse than these sordid stories is the long running refusal by Mr Johnson to apologise for anything.

A rare exception was when he ‘unreservedly apologised’ to MP Emily Thornbury describing her as 'the baroness something or other’- her husband is Sir Christopher Nugee, a high court judge.

Since then, silence, leading to his cowardly act of scuttling to a hospital instead of  ‘facing the music’ in parliament and sending a lackey to the Commons.

Thankfully there have been many bolder, more honest politicians.

The latest example of a heartfelt apology was from FW De Klerk, former President of South Africa, in a video released this week after his death.

For hundreds of years most national leaders have never owned up to or apologised for actions that have had catastrophic results.

One exemption was Billy Brandt, former West German Chancellor. Twenty five years after the last war that ravaged Poland he went on his knees at national commemoration ceremony in a wordless apology. He was later awarded a Nobel peace prize.

Another rare outstanding apology, by the Roman Catholic church in 1965, was the Declaration of the Relation of the Church to Non Christian Religions, the Nostra Aetate (Our Age).

The world today has tragically forgotten how to say sorry.

Saturday, 13 November 2021

Remembering King Coal


Penrhos Junction, 1920. Gwyn Briwnant Jones. Amgueddfa Cymru – National Museum Wales

Robert's Facebook photograph today (from his blogpost) of steam engines pulling wagons full of coal reminds me of my stay with Auntie Flo in Moorland Road Cardiff. At the end of the long garden was the railway line leading to the docks and the steelworks. As a schoolboy I used to stand waving to the drivers and firemen. They always waved back.

Nearby at Gabalfa were the huge marshalling yards for coal trains.

My experience of the ‘black gold’ that made Cardiff famous as the world’s largest coal exporter included several trips underground, the first, also as a school boy with Uncle George, my reporting mentor.

Uncle Walter bought wooden pit props from around the world.

Many years later I organised a visit underground for councillors from Ludwigsburg, Caerphilly’s twin town. At the Windsor colliery in the Aber Valley we had to crawl to the coal face where one German visitor had a heart attack. He recovered.

Another memorable trip was with the the Queen at an Aberbargoed pit where I was one of two reporters chosen by ballet to go underground with her. 

She even stopped to talk to the pit ponies.

Thursday, 11 November 2021

COP26: the reckoning

With the COP summit drawing to its close there will be a frantic effort to frame a final bulletin that suggests at least a prospect of international co-operation. 

More hope than expectation with so much uncertainty and lack of support, especially from some major nations.

So can that the magic 1.5% be achieved?

I have my doubts. We have been struggling to contain many kinds of pollution for centuries with coal the major culprit.

King Edward of England in 1272 banned the burning of sea coal but evidently without success as it plagued the the country ever since, becoming steadily worse since the industrial revolution. 

Mines and factories relentlessly and and disastrously belched toxic fumes into the air.

For me, the most vivid example was when I was a toddler living in east London. In those days we were not so obsessed with weather forecasts as we are today. There was just one a day on the fledgeling radio.

But the weather in London and all the big cities was crucial. It could be a mass killer.

I will never forget those London fogs - ‘pea soupers’, ‘killer fogs’ when day turned to night, the toxic yellow fumes swirling the streets, invading our houses, stopping traffic.

The worst year was 1952 when 4,000 Londoners choked to death with the overall total reaching 12,000.

The first improvement came with the a clean Air Act of 1956, followed by further Acts in 1968 and 1993.

But far worse was to come, new fuels, petrol, diesel, and a new range of deadly substances to power movement, industry and our personal lives.

Now comes the reckoning. 

Judging by progress so far from encouraging with future generations at great risk.

Tuesday, 9 November 2021

Back to life

Sunrise has come back to life again after nearly three weeks lockdown.

The ‘all clear’ came after breakfast yesterday and I enjoyed leaving my room to go down to the restaurant for lunch.

The normal activities programme has restarted and there is a busy few weeks ahead, including parties marking the end of Sunrise and the takeover by Care UK of the renamed Llys Cyncoed (Cyncoed Court in English). 

There is the Armistice celebration and my 95th birthday social, and I will be reading my story, The Braydon Manor Mystery, originally written for Siân and Ria thirty eight years ago.

Quite a flourish, with what I hope will be the completion of my Penarth flat purchase which has given Robert and Karen a mountain of work. 

It would not have been possible without them.

Monday, 8 November 2021

A climate for change?

The Glasgow summit lumbers on to its final week, most of the leaders having departed.

It is already becoming boring, its mix of gloom and optimism reflected in the debating rooms and on the activist-crowded streets through the country.

Soon we will get a final communique which will satisfy nobody but merely reflect the complexity of it all. 

There will be dubious half promises suggesting progress has been made but the world knows that the next few decades will decide the future and how badly the world will be affected.

The critical question is if the world’s richest nations are willing to - as they certainly could - help save the hundreds of poor nations.

Saturday, 6 November 2021

Sunrise reflections

Today is my 850th day at Sunrise. Another 34 to go, if all runs to plan.

So, what have I learned in my stay here?

A great deal: in fact more than I have learned in most of my lifetime.

It has been a total change, a unique time, most of it successful.

I have learned to curb my natural impatience, to take my time. Over the years, especially when work was involved, I was always too keen to get things done, at once. 

With the luxury of time, I have slowed down, thinking before acting, and it has made life easier.

One of the most rewarding aspects of my life at Sunrise has been keeping in touch with my family and friends. I have sent and received hundreds, thousands maybe, of emails, and had many Zoom chats with Robert and the family.

I have enjoyed a range of activities, including the Sunrise entertainment programme to which I have contributed, but my main interest has been writing, every morning, including the daily diary that led to my book.

Old age inevitably involves some slowing up, and lockdown has not helped me keep awareness of time, days and dates, but generally the days have passed smoothly. I just let them roll by.

I have tried to keep positive, not to worry, and certainly not to panic although misplacing or losing things, even for a short time, has been a problem.

Altogether, life at Sunrise has proved one of the most settled periods in my life for which I shall always be grateful.

Thursday, 4 November 2021

Pure power: the Severn Barrage saga

Speaking at the Glasgow climate summit, First Minister Mark Drakeford was in optimistic mood.

One reason, he explained, was that Wales has the advantage and potential of being beside the sea; in fact surrounded by it on three sides,  All that sea and air. So much potential for energy saving. 

But is the optimism justified?

A look back over the years suggest it is not.

Time after time the opportunity to harness wave power to energise industry and businesses, to light and heat homes, has been turned down.

Wales’s one world class climate change achievement has been the Dinorwig North Wales hydro electric scheme. Completed in 1984 it is a brilliant, simple idea. Pump water up a mountain and let it rush down, creating instant electricity, and repeat the process ad infinitum.

Wales and Britain has ignored since 1849 an easy, affordable way of harnessing the power of the world’s second highest tidal range.

That is as when the importance of the treasure that could be wrested from the Bristol Channel was first recognised by the Gloucester City engineer, Thomas Fuljames. He suggested a barrage linking Wales with Monmouthshire to make Gloucester docks more accessible.

Nothing happened, as after the next, much more ambitious study many decades later, in 1933. That chose a similar line, the English Stones, with electricity - 2:365 million kilowatts per hour on 706 tides a year.

A new study was ordered by the government in 1943 resulting in a positive report two years later. 

The benefits, it said, would include expansion of business and commerce, shipping, tourism, recreation, housing and infrastructure.

Its construction would provide a workforce of 35,000 with 10,000 plus permanent jobs.

The report concluded, ‘If renewable energy resources are to be utilised to increase diversification of electricity generation and reduce pollution, the Severn Barrage remains the largest single project that can make a significant contribution on a reasonable time scale’.

Later that year the case for the barrage was forcefully argued at a civic engineers conference on tidal energy.

It asserted that if every practicable estuary in England and Wales were harnessed to produce energy, 20 percent of the nation’s electricity demand would be met; the largest, the Severn Barrage would account for 7 percent.

Decades of silence followed  

Then, in 1973, the Severn Barrage committee was formed in which I was involved

Its secretary was Peter Davey, chief executive of the South Glamorgan county council, my boss.

I helped arrange the committee meetings, including organising helicopter flights over the Bristol Channel to select the barrage route.

Its enthusiastic report in March 1981 proposed a further study be taken.

The prospect at last, looked rosy, boosted five years later by the influential Severn Tidal Power group report.  

By then the cost had risen to five and a half billion pounds.

Asserting the project would be ‘of great value and a permanent asset to the country’ they wanted an immediate three year £18 million study and, on time, an impressively illustrated report was presented to the Secretary of State for Energy.

The ten mile long barrage on the preferred Lavernock to Brean Down route would built with huge concrete caissons involving embankments on both sides of the channel with a dual carriageway crossing.

The report confirmed it would meet one seventh of England and Wales' electricity needs, would save eight million tons of coal a year and last for at least 126 years. Since then, silence.

There has been limitless water under the bridge, up and down the channel, with the world now facing possible disaster.

Mr Johnson in Glasgow is pleading for action by Great Britain and the world.

Why is the Severn Barrage scheme still dead in the water?

Remembering Rosemary

Rosemary died three years ago today. 

Had she been here I would not be leaving Sunrise. We would have been together and I would be doing my best, with the Sunrise carers, to look after her. But it is not a sad day. Why should it be. She lived until ninety and I think she enjoyed our life together and I know how much she appreciated the love of the family.

I hope to continue to be as fortunate as I have, all through my life?

There is so much to be thankful for.

Tuesday, 2 November 2021

A COP-out at Glasgow?

It’s a change from the pandemic with the Glasgow summit taking up most of the media's time and space, it is almost at saturation point already on the second day.

So much talk, just what everyone complains about.

There is hope, but will there be much action?

The trouble is that climate change is a confusing, complex subject, and the outcome of the attempt to get countries to act together depends on their overriding self interest.

The absence from Glasgow of Russia and China, giant polluters, is serious.

The most worrying contribution to the debate with all its last minute warnings are the pleas of the small countries that are already seeing the danger of extinction yet are not receiving the promised aid from the rich nations.

Rivalling the world leaders in the effort to get action is the phenomenal teenager Greta Thunberg.   

I find it astonishing that such a young person, however committed, intelligent and eloquent, has achieved such a status, driven by the media.

Solving the climate crisis is vital for new generations and she epitomises the determination needed but it all seems a little too facile, with the media making her as important as the world leaders.

Monday, 1 November 2021

Celebrations

I was looking forward to a family get-together for my 95th birthday later this month, postponed due to Sunrise lockdown.

It might even have been possible for us to have it in Penarth but I will not be in my new home in time.

The last family celebration, for my 90th in 2016, at the Cardiff County Club, organised by Siân, was memorable.

Looking ahead, optimistically, I hope to arrange a celebration in the new year, for my birthday and as a welcome back to Penarth.

Sunday, 31 October 2021

Eyes on Glasgow

What a planet we live on. But for how long? Will it one day collide with another or will fires, floods or some other catastrophe signal the end? No doubt by then the rich will have rocketed up into outer space to live on another planet.

Forgive the doom laden thoughts, prompted by the start of the climate conference in Glasgow.

Most of the countries of our world are there, apart from a few whose action or lack of it could be the deciding factor for our future. And I can’t help questioning the sense in 30,000 people jetting in, clocking up gas guzzling miles. Why, with all the newfangled but effective communication resources, can’t it be more of an armchair exercise?

Boris Johnson is enjoying the international spotlight, bonhomie personified, brushing aside the obvious doubts with pseudo optimism.

A failure to achieve positive results would add to his lengthening list of tribulations but no doubt he will come up smiling.

Thursday, 28 October 2021

Uncertainty again

It is surprising how quickly we forget. Just a few days ago life seemed to be plain sailing, things going according to plan. Then it all changed. The pandemic struck Sunrise again.

Three residents proved positive. Action stations. For us residents, a retreat to our rooms to face at least three weeks' isolation, the carers and staff back in safety gear.

A cruel blow for elderly people, especially the infirm and vulnerable.

We were getting used to the regular stream of visitors. But the only contact now is with carers calling in to check we are safe, to ask what we want for meals, which are then delivered.

Immediate testing of all staff and residents revealed seven  positives in the assisted living area and this morning the Welsh health authority is conducting another thorough test for everyone.

I was fortunate to have visitors just before the lockdown, with Robert delivering my new computer, but I have had to cancel visits from friends due this week.

Despite all the projections, the hopes and anticipation of better days, the pandemic is still creating uncertainty and danger.

Tuesday, 26 October 2021

Back in lockdown

The pandemic has hit Sunrise again, after many ‘safe’ weeks, and we are all at lockdown after three residents proved positive.

Disappointing to for everyone, with the carers and all staff again wearing full safety gear.

Yesterday I had lunch delivered to my room for the first time since I left hospital a year ago. It is all very disappointing but we just have to plod on. 

We were looking forward to Halloween events and I was going to read The Ghost of Braydon Manor, a story about the Wildeboer family home I wrote for my granddaughters Siân and Ria thirty two years ago.

I have plenty to do, preparing for my move back to Penarth and all is going according to plan so far, but as from the start of the pandemic in March last year coronavirus is still making life unsettled for all.

Saturday, 23 October 2021

Words

English, written and spoken, is a magnificent language. A priceless treasure chest of jewels gleaned over thousands of years from many lands, peoples and tongues.

I love words and welcome the constant revisions and addition to this word store.

I have written uncounted millions of words in a basic, and, I hope, acceptable style, trying to eschew slang and the latest fads.

English is a living, vibrant language, welcoming and embracing new ideas, like the nation’s propensity to accept people of different origins, ethics and religions.

Most of the newcomers are welcome  but there are some I am pleased that prove to be fly-by-nights, here-tonight-gone-tomorrow,

And my hate list is growing steadily.

I can think of many in the present galaxy that deserve to plummet ignominiously.

In speech I shudder at like, awesome - a favourite of of young people - and the now inevitable addition to interviews, surreal.

Another abomination, push back (what’s wrong with delay?)

I have a leaning towards to pause which is more subtle than to delay.

As for government ministers’ incessant embellishing of their plans and achievements, amazing and incredible, the sooner they fall to earth the better.

But, am I being too pedantic, or to use a colourful, apt phrase, nit picking?

Friday, 22 October 2021

Do mention the war

The Blitz, 1940

Over the past week I have been reliving the 1939/45 war as depicted in a magnificent new television series.  A revelation as much of it is news to me.

I was a teenager at school when the war started and even when I became a reporter in 1942 I knew little more than anyone about the progress of the war and the raging battles on air, sea and land.

The radio and newspaper reports gave little away for what today would be cited security reasons. 

They certainly did not convey the enormity of the conflict as it engulfed the world.

From the anxious late 1930s when Britain hoped war would never come, boosted by the peace seeking prime minister Neville Chamberlain, to the final battles in the ravaged city of Berlin there were countless battles, some epic in scale.

For me the most startling revelation is the bold reaction to adversity and possible catastrophic defeat by nations’ leaders Churchill, Roosevelt and Stalin, all three so different.

I was at school in London during the Battle of  Britain and the blitz when Britain stood alone, invasion by Germany seemingly imminent.

It was averted and we were saved by ‘The Few' in the RAF, but that victory was only made possible by Churchill ordering Beaverbrook, his minister of aircraft production, to produce hundreds of fighter planes in a few weeks.

Immediately after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor that almost wiped out the US navy, Roosevelt did the same, on a vast scale. 

Within months the US was producing an aircraft carrier a month, tanks, guns and countless billions of rounds of ammunition that eventually sealed the fate of both the Japanese and German armies.

Stalin staged a miraculous turn around at Stalingrad where, on the brink of defeat, he conjured up a secret army of a million soldiers and hundreds of aircraft to end Hitler’s ruinous gamble.

Turning to today, inspirational leadership is missing. Leaders throughout the world are shadows of the heroes  of the past.

In Britain there is the pandemic with the dithering prime minister Johnson, the USA, divided by Trump, led by a cautious, elderly Biden, while Putin manipulates and schemes.

It is all so shallow, so weak - and so dangerous.

Even worse, there is no sign of bold, imaginative leaders coming to rescue our troubled world.

Wednesday, 20 October 2021

Hoping for the best

So the government is ‘going to keep a close watch’ on infection rates according to an official spokesperson, warning of a ‘challenging’ winter.

How reassuring, with infections rising to the highest for months, perhaps soon to reach the worst ever in England.

The response, or rather lack of it, is typical of the wait and see, hope for the best attitude of our complacent, over-optimistic prime minister.

Last summer he stubbornly went ahead lifting for what was to be freedom day that never dawned and will hang on again, delaying a Plan B.

It is the same with all the problems mounting up.

It astonishes me that according to a new poll, fifty percent of the people still think he has done, and, presumably is still doing, a good job on the pandemic.

I am not one of them.

Saturday, 16 October 2021

What is happening to Great Britain?

What is happening to Great Britain? 

The murder of MP Sir David Amess marks the relentless escalation of danger facing everyone, famous or ordinary.

And it reveals a deepening division between politicians, not just in their ideals and policies, but in their ever increasingly strident and dangerous views of their ‘opponents’.

I blame the insidious social media platforms that, far from encouraging reasoned debate on public matters, spew out anger and even hatred. 

There is justified alarm at the harm being inflicted on the public, and, in particular, the more susceptible young people. 

The increasing number of suicides is the tragic consequence of the ‘say what you like, how you like’ attitude which Facebook and the other platforms are failing to control.

I never thought we would see world leaders resorting to soundbite utterings on Twitter. 

What effect would that have had in wartime?

Following the latest tragedy, we have the usual promises that something must be done, but it will make little difference if social media is allowed to sail on, unperturbed and uncaring.

Friday, 15 October 2021

Moving on


The deed is done. I now have a new home in Penarth, 10 Bridgeman Court, Bridgeman Road, one hundred yards from Windsor Court.

A true homecoming.

As with my move to Sunrise over two years ago, I am sure I have made the right decision.

No one can be certain about the future, more difficult than ever these days, but I am satisfied, whatever happens.

Moving into a new home can be a daunting but exciting business. This will be my sixth in seventy years.

The first, with Rosemary and four year old Beverley and me was the best. 

We used to drive there every week to see it being built, 

Our move on Derby day in 1956 was exciting and the nine years we spent there were among the happiest of our life.

The next two moves were not so trouble free. The day we went to London, to Ashley Drive, Whitton was a miserable, snowing and bitterly cold.

Not easy, especially for Rosemary. Beverley and two-year old Robert. The return to Wales six years later was also fraught with difficulty.

The sale of our Ashley Drive house had stalled at the last minute, the buyer pulling out on contract signing day.

Even worse, I was due to leave in a matter of days, away for three months in Japan and the USA.

But we got through that, thanks to Rosemary’s determination and seventeen-year-old  Beverley driving her mother and Robert to Cardiff.

We were all thrilled to be back in Wales, at Winnipeg Drive, that was to be our home for almost thirty years.

The next move, our last to a new home, was to a seafront maisonette in Windsor  Court, Penarth, where we enjoyed almost twenty years before Rosemary died.

Than came my choice of Sunrise Cardiff  care  home where Rosemary and I had intended to be together.

It was one of my best decisions, despite the unique circumstances and (as it turned out within months) danger from coronavirus 

I could not have been more contented and well cared for, but  it is time to me to move out and on. 

I miss Penarth and the sea, and am looking forward to a new beginning, a new life, at 95.

I know I can manage, even now, to look after myself, with some help at home, and cannot wait to open the door at my own home.

This last homecoming is not an adventure but it gives me great satisfaction.

Whatever the future holds, I am confident it is the right move.

Tuesday, 12 October 2021

Making up for lost time

One of the worst aspects of the pandemic for old people has been missing our families. Especially our grandchildren and, for me, my great grandchildren.

As children do, they have grown amazingly fast. One of the joys in life is to watch and be part of that. But the pandemic put a stop to it and even now visits are possible, they are too few and far between

My experience is typical, and I have been unusually fortunate in being able to keep in touch with my growing family.

Owen sailing

Take my youngest grandson, Owen, 13. As well as physically he has developed in many ways. His life is so different now and he is obviously enjoying it;  his new school and his broadening of interests, including music, drama, writing and now adventurous sports including the latest, sailing. He is far bolder than I ever was.

I have kept in touch regularly with all of them, but there has been a gap, a void. I have missed that growing up process.

I have only seen Owen two or three times in the past 18 months - almost two lost years of getting to know him and sharing his enjoyment of life.

The same applies to my great grandchildren, Mylo, Rosa and Claudia.

That lost time cannot be made up but, whatever time I have, I intend to keep in closer touch with them and in some way make up for the lost two years.

Sunday, 10 October 2021

October 10

 October10

With most people back at work or about to return, civil servants, it seems, are still not being ordered or persuaded to go back to their desks.

And this has annoyed MP  Duncan Smith who cites the war time experience - not his, as he was not born then - when people worked as normally as possible, defying the blitz.

He has a point. Dad used to travel across London to drive his crane on a dangerous Thameside wharf.

I struggled to get to school. My five mile journey from Wandsworth to the emergency secondary school near Clapham Common during the height of the London air bombardment in 1941 sometimes took up to three hours, dodging the bombs to shelter on the way.

One day, alone in our upstairs flat, I watched as a lone German bomber, obviously damaged, fly slowly, directly over me.

There was a totally different public approach and attitude to today’s emergency, a togetherness that is absent today although the danger is less immediate.

Where’s has the famous British spirit gone?






Saturday, 9 October 2021

Britain's Punch and Judy politics

Strange, how fiction is often more credible than fact.

That has been brought home to me while I have been watching the Danish television series, Borgen.

I last saw it some years ago and think it is brilliant, the casting, acting and stories of Danish politics under a woman prime minister. 

Then I thought of British politics today.

It seems pure fiction - poor fiction, too. The cast, antics and stories of a nation led by a totally unsuitable prime minister, a joker.

It is more like an elaborate Punch and Judy show with Johnson Punch berating Judy Starmer.

What a travesty.and  how dangerous. The sooner this horror, not comic, show is off the road the better

Britain deserves so much better.

Monday, 4 October 2021

Ghosts of the past

In my time at Sunrise I have been impressed by the efforts to keep us residents entertained. The daily activities programme aims to get people to mingle, to take part in events and entertainment. 

The pandemic meant a drastic reduction in the programme with the loss of visitors.We are only just starting to get back to normal and to welcome back visitors including singers and church ministers, 

The Sunrise staff events organisers and the carers have done a marvellous job keeping us physically and mentally active and I have enjoyed taking part in activities ranging from poetry to Bingo, art to skittles.

I have been disappointed at the number of residents, especially the men, who could benefit but do not bother. 

For some months I have helped by giving a series of illustrated travel talks which those who attended seem to have enjoyed.

Later this month, as part of the Halloween programme, I will make what will probably be my last contribution to the Sunrise events programme. I will read a ghost story I wrote over thirty years ago for my grand daughters, Sian, then eight and Ria, six.

The Wildeboer family had just moved into Braydon Manor, formerly a Wiltshire farm, part of which dated back over three hundred years.

The Braydon Manor ghost Siân and Ria discovered after finding an old picture in the attic had died a tragic death. And there were more surprises as they learned the whole story.

I am looking forward to retelling the sad tale.

Saturday, 2 October 2021

Moving on

I have had a most successful two days, thanks to Robert who worked through a long list of my very long 'moving list’  amazingly fast, solving problems with my iPad and laptop, emails and even looking for a new computer ready for my ‘office’ in Penarth.

I am so lucky with all my family. Brenda and Ivor have helped set up my eye cataract operation which I want to have before I move. (After waiting for three years I have decided to have it done privately.) They are taking me to hospital near here on Tuesday evening to see the consultant so it should be done soon, I hope.

The flat purchase is going ahead well and I was again delighted with my new flat in Bridgeman Court, Penarth (near Windsor Court), which Robert saw for the first time yesterday.

I am so looking forward to my new life there.

Wednesday, 29 September 2021

Dithering and panicking

Our government in action: more like inaction. And certainly slow motion.

Whenever a new crisis hits they start thinking, not acting. They stall, then come give hollow reassurances that things are not too bad and everything will soon be back under control.

It has been going on since the start of the pandemic and we are getting more proof every week.

Typical is their reaction to the lorry driver shortage that is threatening to cripple many business, affecting all our lives.

For nearly two weeks the transport secretary for England, Grant Shapps, has blamed people for panicking at the pumps while he panics about what to do.

His not so bright idea: get 5,000 drivers over from Europe when we need 100,000. Call up the army? A  favourite ploy, a last throw of the dice. I remember us using the army green goddess fire engines during a strike when I was in local government over forty years ago.

Each day the government dithers while the sleepy PM, after a week’s silence, wakes up to tell the nation, yes, don’t panic, that it is getting better while garage queues continue.

‘Army on standby’ announced the headlines two days ago. Today it is ‘Army to deliver fuel in days'.

What a way to run the country.

Saturday, 25 September 2021

Don't panic...

‘Don’t panic’ the government tells us as the country hits yet another crisis, this time caused by a shortage of lorry drivers that should have been evident for a year or more.

And the tabloids add to the panic with bold headlines telling of panic at the petrol stations, showing queues of cars.

But will the makeshift plan to bring in drivers from Europe who left, disgruntled, solve the problem? Why should they bother for a temporary recall.

The government, as so often, has done no risk assessment, has had no  plan B.

One of their belated ideas is to call in army driving instructors.

I might even apply. When I visited a Welsh regiment in Germany on a visit with the chairman of the county council I had a go at driving a huge tank transporter - with its eighteen gears. 

I managed to move the monster about a hundred yards.

Friday, 24 September 2021

Jabbed again!

I have had my booster. Very much a no fuss operation in Sunrise.

I only had to go a few yards to the activity room where there was a well organised army of medics and carers.

As usual, Sunrise was in top form. No wasted time and after our jab we rested for fifteen minutes.

I will find out how we can have proof of our vaccinations, although I don’t expect to go nightclubbing.

Yesterday I gave my last travel talk, on Canada, which I have enjoyed doing. Linda, Sunrise events organiser, and I chose some magnificent photographs to show on a big screen. They were better than my talk.

Now I can get on with the mass of things to do.

I moved a step nearer Penarth with my meeting at the solicitor’s office and am hoping the move will happen in November. Exciting times ahead.

Wednesday, 22 September 2021

A family of writers

It looks as though the family writing tradition is being carried on by the younger generations.

Mylo, my great grandson, intends to take up journalism and media studies at university.

He will be the sixth member of our family to take up the trade, starting with Uncle George Dymond almost a hundred years ago.

I followed in 1942, then Rosemary, while her father was for over forty years a Linotype operator and an uncle the sports editor on the Luton Post.

Jim, Valerie’s husband, is about to have a thriller published. It will be the fourth book published by the family; the first, Uncle George’s Late Night Final How to be a Reporter, published by Pitman in the 1947.

And my 13 year old grandson Owen is another elegant writer and budding author, and also active in music and drama.

Tuesday, 21 September 2021

What's the use of worrying?

Worry, worry, worry. Everyone seems to be at it these days. about anything and everything.

War with China? Gas prices. No turkeys for Christmas. Food shortages. CO2. I can’t remember such a blanket of gloom.

Where is the British bulldog spirit?

I am not a worrier, thank goodness. Not like Mum whose concerns were mainly for Dad and us children.

Bert was an inveterate worrier, always foreseeing terrible weather for his holidays.

I think that, generally, it is something to forget about except in special circumstances. A waste of time, harmful in fact.

Over the years, facing big decisions or important tasks, I have tried to keep cool and see things through. And it has worked for me. 

Dad would probably have been singing in wartime Britain, even though he was in the Dardanelles not the trenches of France. 'What’s the use of worrying, it never was worthwhile', in the words of the famous Great War song Pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag.

Saturday, 18 September 2021

My family story

I am enjoying sitting and thinking about the past. Not daydreaming, but recalling family history, events and adventures. 

I have started writing my new book, That’s  Life, dedicated, like my pandemic diary, to my grandchildren and great grandchildren

My family regret not having chronicled the story of our  grandparents’ era - I don’t even know the names of two of mine. Yet it would have been easy.

My mother, born in 1891, had an interesting life when the world was awash with new ideas, inventions and discoveries.

But we did not chronicle those drastic, dramatic developments, never recorded her life story.

I am, belatedly, trying to fill in as many gaps in family history as possible and am including my own experiences over almost a hundred years.

Thursday, 16 September 2021

Back to Penarth


I have made one of the most important decisions of my life. I am leaving Sunrise and returning to Penarth.

I have decided that I am now fit enough and capable of looking after myself, I hope, for a few more years.

I am buying a retirement flat, 10 Bridgeman Court, near Windsor Court, our home for almost twenty years.

I will be sorry to leave Sunrise where I have been very comfortable, happy and where I could not have been looked after better.

But I have decided I cannot stay for years more for a number of reasons, mainly the uncertainty of the future here after its take over by another group, although the administration here will remain the same.

The social care system itself is in crisis with problems including staffing and think I will feel more settled and secure, and be able to enjoy a more normal life back in a Penarth.

I am very grateful to Robert and Karen who have discussed with me the pros and cons of the move and who have come to agree with me. Karen spent the day with me viewing my new home, a modern two bedroom flat where I am sure I will be comfortable and safe.

There is the added advantage of a more sociable life with my friends and easier visiting for my family.

Nothing is certain these days but I am sure this is the right decision at the right time.

Wednesday, 15 September 2021

Back to panic stations

Uncertain. It’s a word I have used many times to describe the pandemic, and it is still relevant as today’s media confirm.

The newspaper headlines tell it vividly with the most startling, Back to Panic Stations.

As usual, the government’s advisers are cast as gloom-spreading merchants. There is blanket coverage for the Prime Minister’s new ‘plan’. 

Like his recent plan for social care reform it is sketchy and indecisive. Typically Johnsonian, it is a combination of dither and hope.

One thing is certain. There is a dangerous winter ahead.

Last year the on-and-off Christmas tale unfolded in the preceding months and it may be no clearer this time.

The government seems as divided as ever on the action to take and is just blundering along, hoping for the best.

Nothing is easy. This pandemic is proving a wily beast which, despite the relief and hope provided by vaccination, has yet to be tamed.

Friday, 10 September 2021

Not a care...

The prime minister’s long-awaited plan for the reform of social care is a massive let down, a damp squib.

It is not a plan, and certainly not the solution to a national disgrace: the way millions of disabled and elderly people are being treated.

Far from urgently tackling the problem, the help offered is not only far too little, its main benefit will not come for two years, and will still not prevent people losing their homes.

Mike Padgam, managing director of the St Cecilia home care group, is scathing in his condemnation of the 'plan’.

‘So, after all the campaigning for over thirty years for a better deal, we have been let down’ he said. ‘All we have is another sticking plaster to get some money into the NHS because it has been battered by Covid.'

The social care system has been fighting Covid side by side with the NHS yet it is still being treated as less important. Proper reform has been booted ‘down the road’.

I am one of masses of elderly people who have had to sell my home and in two years have seen my savings pouring out at an alarming rate, worrying about how long I can afford to meet that cost.

Now we know: we must carry on worrying. Even the main changes announced will not come into effect for two years.

No wonder every organisation involved in caring for the elderly and disabled is fearful for the future.

Monday, 6 September 2021

Down your whey...

In my reporting days I interviewed many people and later, in local government, was interviewed as a spokesman, not at all an easy task.

But one interview I enjoyed was in the long running radio programme, Down Your Way, presented by the excellent, genial Franklin Engelmann.

As public relations officer for Caerphilly council, I had found him a selection of interesting local characters to interview, when he said, ‘Why don’t you come on the programme’?

So I did, giving details of my job and, as with all the interviewees, suggesting a favourite record to be played.

I chose the popular Men of Harlech march from Edward German’s Welsh Rhapsody.

The show went well, apart for one hitch. I had managed to persuade an elderly Caerphilly farmer, John Roberts, who used to produce miniature ‘real’ Caerphilly cheeses for Council VIP guests including once for the Queen, on condition he chose a hymn and said a prayer in his interview.

Franklin Engelmann kept his promise and all went well. Unwisely, when I met the farmer to thank him, he was not at all impressed. 

‘Why’, I asked,

‘You chose the wrong tone for my hymn’, he grumbled  

When I asked the presenter for his autograph for my daughter Beverley he did so, adding a quip I had made, that they programme should have been called Down your Whey.

I  shudder to think what farmer Roberts would have thought of my other joke, ‘What a friend we have in cheeses.’

Sunday, 5 September 2021

Reporting decline

I always wanted to be  a reporter, and I was lucky to have an ideal tutor, my Uncle, George Dymond.

After serving in the trenches during the First World War George returned to Cardiff where he became a reporter on the Docks Guardian newspaper.

Over the next fifty years, and throughout the 1939/45 war, he represented all the UK national newspapers and press agencies.

When I was a schoolboy he took me with him reporting stories on his ‘patch’, South Wales. We covered everything, from accidents, pit strikes to murder.

I learned a lot, and when I left Cardiff High School at 16, he arranged my first job interview, with the Penarth Times.

That was the start of my twenty year reporting career that included the South Wales Argus, and, like him, the national newspapers, press agencies and my broadcasting with the BBC. We even covered some of the same stories. I was proud of Uncle George, and proud to be a reporter.

But not any longer. I am so angry at the way popular journalism has developed that I am ashamed to admit having been a reporter.

Over recent years press reporting has changed, dramatically and disastrously, in my view, especially with the tabloids.

In my early reporting days the two most popular papers, the Daily Express and Daily Mail were first class, responsible journals, covering the world with excellent, famous journalists, selling copies by the million.

Today, both papers are, in my view, a disgrace to journalism, with daily, 'War Declared’ size headlines, over-the-top reporting and highly paid big name reporters and columnists writing to order.

So much is negative, inaccurate and dangerous. Reporters, myself included, tend to learn a little about a lot of subjects, enough to present ourselves as experts, then to forget about them.

There is no better example than the debacle of Afghanistan where everyone claims  to be an expert yet knows and cares little about the country, its people or its way of life.

Our press are masters at knowing it all and blaming everyone for events and decisions they do not understand.

Typical is the fury at President Biden for the Kabul retreat yet they know and care little of the complexities of that dire exercise.

On a simpler level, the press have devoted countless stories to the life and death of an alpaca, Geronimo, again displaying a woeful lack of knowledge.

One tabloid devoted four pages to it, making a drama of the removal of the doomed animal, with screaming headlines. And, of course, finding someone to blame.

Some heartrending stories, like the case of Madeleine McCann, the child abducted in Portugal in 2007, run for years. The latest instalment published today, prolongs the anguish of her parents.

Is it surprising that I feel feel ashamed of reporters?

Saturday, 4 September 2021

A quieter day

A quieter day, following yesterday's excitement. Thank you for all the messages after the excellent publicity for the book. I am pleased that people may be encouraged to read it and appreciate the effort that has been made - still is - to care for us. I am pleased, too, that Rosa and Claudia's picture with me was included as it is they and the future family who will be able to look back and appreciate what an amazing time this is.

Friday, 3 September 2021

Making the news



The BBC reports on Bob's diary book

An exciting morning. I have just seen the report on BBC Wales online news on my book. I am delighted with it. Radio Wales news also featured it and it may be on BBC Wales television news this evening.

Yesterday’s interview at Sunrise by the BBC reporter was one of the best examples of reporting I have known. 

When I was involved briefly in television 60 years ago it was a ponderous business, with a three-man crew: producer, reporter and cameraman. Now reporters are on their own, jacks and jills of all trades.

Brian Walsh yesterday was brilliant. He was patient, meticulous and totally professional. He had done his research and had chosen the book extracts for me to read. That made it much more direct and personal. 


I did not have to worry about hearing his questions as Sara Reading, the Sunrise general manager, sat nearby, making sure I heard them. 

That hour and a half interview was the most rewarding in my experience and I am glad I remembered the basic lessons I learned so many years ago, to listen carefully to the questions, stay still and answer directly and clearly.

Robert and I think the book is an important record  of the unique pandemic experiences, probably the first such account published.

It needed publicity and we were fortunate to have the very efficient Sunrise press team team led by Anokhi Popat who handled the press releases.

It has been an exciting experience.

Wednesday, 1 September 2021

Brother Bert's centenary


Happy family: Bob and brother Bert, centre, with Rosemary and mother Gwen

Autumn. And a memorable date - my brother Bert’s birthday - it would have been his one hundredth.

A lot of memories, too of my big brother, five years older than I.

My earliest memories of Bert go back to the pre-war days when we lived at 6 St Anne’s Hill in Wandsworth, London. When I was five and Bert ten, we used to think up indoor games. My favourites were our versions of cricket and football, played on our lounge carpet using marbles, combs  and match boxes for wickets and goal posts. We could not persuade our sister Dorothy to join in.

We were always sports enthusiasts, especially cricket and soccer.  Bert would take me to the Oval to watch Surrey play and to Fulham and Chelsea football, sometimes with Dad. 

Bert always wanted to be there in plenty of time, but Dad and I liked to get there just before kick off.

Bert’s love of cricket lasted all his life, and he never missed Lord's test matches.

Bert and I were different characters. He was always quieter, more deliberate than I, especially when making important decisions. He admitted that his hesitancy, shared by Jean, his wife, did not always work. 

His plan to live in a bungalow in Penarth they fancied failed because they delayed the decision.They  settled for one in Cardiff.

Unlike Dorothy and me, Bert failed the eleven-plus exam but it did not prevent him from having a very successful career in the civil service, with a range of interesting positions from his demob after six years in the RAF. 

Like me, he found a fascinating job on retirement, travelling the world as overseas missions manager for the Cardiff Chamber of Commerce.

Jean’s early death was a terrible blow for Bert and Brenda that probably led to Alzheimer's that ruined the rest of his life.

How fortunate I have been to have had brother Bert, and sister Dorothy.

Tuesday, 31 August 2021

Special visitors


I love having visitors, none more so than Rosa and Claudia, my great granddaughters. Their visit latest, coming into Sunrise with Ria, was their first for eighteen months.

A wonderful hour. As usual, they roamed the flat, jumping on my scooter, and having a fine time. 

After they finished the few little jobs I had for them, including watering my windowsill plants, they had a treasure hunt with prizes. They missed nothing.

The visit ended with a photograph and a promise to be back soon. I can’t  wait. It is a marvellous pleasure to be with such lovely girls.

Monday, 30 August 2021

Sunrise reflections, two years on


Two years ago today I moved into my new home, and a new life, at Sunrise Cardiff.

And what a life it has proved to be. I didn't foresee the historic events that would follow.

My first six months here was a time of adjustment, of learning to live in different surroundings, of adapting to a totally different life style. My ‘turret suite’ was comfortable and the care and attention I was receiving helped make up for the lack of total freedom l had always enjoyed. 

It was a relief when, after a sad and worrying few years with Rosemary’s eyesight failing and Beverley’s sudden death, I found I could not manage to look after myself properly and deciding that moving into a home was the answer.

After that first comfortable and comforting six months coronavirus changed everything. There was uncertainty and anxiety, relieved by the magnificent Sunrise carers. My lowest point was in autumn 2020 when I was in hospital with coronavirus and a broken ankle, followed by weeks involving isolation and a very slow recovery.

Throughout those difficult months I felt optimistic and positive and I recorded my thoughts in my blog, recently published on Kindle as Pandemic! My Care Home Diary, thanks to Robert’s skill and patience as editor

Today, I feel better than I have for years, able to look after myself and enjoy life, even if it is still limited to some extent.

What of the future? Whatever happens I will try to remain positive, and grateful for my good fortune in having such a marvellous family and so many friends.

Better days - surely better than the past, best forgotten, eighteen months.