Day 3 at our new care home.

The turn.

The Overtones. Superb, I tapped a toe in appreciation. The mosh pit was a-flood with bingo wings and bald pates. (I can say that without fear of censure as I possess both).

The medication must be kicking in. Beginning to enjoy myself here, I am quietly being assimilated into the collective. I have even talked to some of the other inmates guests. The older ones ramble on about futile attempts to escape. I mentioned that breakfast tasted funny this morning, the old brethren nodded sagely and muttered something about the recently deceased Colin being a clown. Befuddled they are. They say we will never get past the mousse. How hard can a pudding be?

Any way, off to plan tomorrow's activities....