We are moving him into retirement flats at the weekend. It’s a one way ticket. They never make it out again you know. Kiss goodbye to life pop. Sure we will turn up on a Sunday and take him for the occasional spin and he can walk to the post office to buy his paper. When you’re in that place you watch the other occupants die around you. One day you’re talking to them about heating bills and the next they’re gone. Bang! Dead! And then their family, if they have one, moves their stuff out and it all starts again. A new name to learn, and forget.
He isn’t that mobile these days. Sits at the window a lot looking at life passing by outside, thinking. He has a TV. It’s a new one. He had to get rid of the old museum piece because of the digital switchover. Likes a bit of a tipple too and used to get down the pub a bit though that’s mostly a thing of the past. Used to go for early doors with his mate but his pal’s not around anymore. I take him back there once in a while. It isn’t the same really. The staff have changed. Anyway he has a problem with booze now. Prostate.
We are moving him into retirement flats at the weekend. It’s for the best.