Bar de Tapas

The one person I still need to tell about J is Dad. But that has to be done face to face. I know I’ll tell him, it might or it might not register, or he might be briefly upset but then quickly forget. It just feels the right thing to do. Dad was very fond of J.

So I travelled down to my “hometown” today. I met the carers and watched them dealing with Dad (we’re very lucky, his carers are a great bunch). And T, the Age Concern lady who cleans the house and washes the clothes and has become a good friend. visited and we chatted for two hours whilst Dad slept.

Afterwards I walked to the High Street. Growing up there was a Woolworths, a Boots, butchers, bakers, greengrocers, Thurlows where Mum bought her patterns and her wool, and all the rest. All gone. In their place the many pubs have been supplemented by lots of restaurants and other eating places, I sat at the table near the window at this little place, the three staff chatting away in Spanish. I enjoyed my tapas, “Gracias”.