rARsh!

It’s been an interesting week

“Be there at half past twelve,” they’d told me, “as the ambulance may be early.”

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

On Monday I received a call from Stalag Pentwyn. Stalag Pentwyn offers secure accommodation for confused people who are prone to wandering and, as a new facility – it only opened its doors in January – is far and away the most pleasant of those which Wuglums and I found in our long quest for somewhere other than Chateau Llandough. After all, Chateau Llandough were keen to get the bed back, it having been occupied by dad for the past eleven months¹.

Anyway, I received a call from Stalag Pentwyn on Monday. They’re gradually building up the number of residents (taking on staff, training them up and then introducing one or two new residents, taking on more staff, etc.) and the manager told me that they would shortly be able to take Dad in. Good news, I though. All she had to do was speak to Chateau Llandough and check that the needs hadn’t changed since Dad’s assessment and then a date could be set for the move.

On Wednesday, I decided to call Stalag P to see how they’d got on in their talk to the hospital.

“Haven’t you heard from Chateau Llandough?”

“No. Why?”

“Oh, they said they’d be getting in touch with you. We’re all set for Friday.”

‘Friday? Friday as in two days’ time?‘ I shieked inwardly. Then outwardly.

“Friday? Friday as in two days’ time?”

“Yes. That’s right.”

It’s fortunate for me that Tall Andy is a very nice chap. A very, very nice chap (as they’d say at a former employer of mine). Last night saw me make the trip “out west” while twelve thirty this afternoon found me on the ward.

“Be there at half past twelve,” they’d told me, “as the ambulance may be early.”

I admit I was doubtful but couldn’t risk being proved wrong. It was, of course, twenty past one before the ambulance/patient transfer vehicle turned up. Beh.

We installed dad in the PTV and then the driver worried me.

“Stalag Pentwyn. Where is that, exactly? It’s not on our maps. Nor the Fire Service’s.”

This is a little worrying – I am relieved that the ban on smoking indoors is in force here in the Principality.

“Don’t worry. I know where it is – I drove past it last night, to check, and have it programmed into my SatNav.”

“Ok, we’ll follow you, then.”

And off we set. All was going well until the ambulance overtook me on Eastern Avenue.

…

Still, dad’s there now. Confused, of course, but the move actually went far smoother than I’d expected. I’d forgotten to take his walking stick so he was a little unsteady, so I’ll be popping back over later, having given him some time to get to meet the other 13 residents and the very pleasant staff.

It’s going to be an “interesting” weekend.

¹ Eleven months? Bloody hell.