92 not out

I'm in London to celebrate the Old Man's birthday. It's been a busy day.
First to congratulate him was his lovely carer Hyacinth who brought a bunch of flowers.
Then there were the nurses, phone calls, cards, a goody bag of stuff from the family.
Finally we had a roast chicken which gave his underused oven a wake-up call.

It's not easy being 92 and living alone. Last week he rang up at 5pm and said his power had been off all day and it was getting dark - but not to worry, he was an old soldier, he had a torch hanging round his neck and the water was hot enough to make a cup of instant soup. In some panic I tried to find an emergency electrician to go round but then a neighbour went in and flicked the main switch.

Home care for the elderly has been getting a bad press recently with reports of flying visits and inadequate attention to needs but Hyacinth here is a real gem who exudes warmth and good humour. She and others like her are shamefully underpaid for a job that doesn't get a fraction of the respect or recompense it deserves.

(This blip has no connection with yesterday's which dealt with another branch of my family. Thank you everyone who commented so generously on that. I haven't had the opportunity to respond, or comment in turn and tomorrow I shall be travelling home. I hope to catch up with you at the weekend but if I don't I'm sure you'll understand why.)