It was the first thing that hit me. I hadn’t noticed it before when I’d visited, what was it three, four years ago? I sat with it. I accepted it. It stank but it was nobody’s fault. The carers do their best to keep things clean. And the residents are no responsible for what their bodies do or don’t do. It smelt of poignancy. She was lovely. Open and effervescent. I left feeling optimismistic and excited about where this work is going to take me and to whom. It isn’t a home but they all try their hardest to make it so, I believe that. It is certainly kitsch, with all that frou frou and stuff, but it comes from the heart. She buzzed a visitor in. She looked like she knew where she was going. “Now, her husband would be perfect for you,” she said as we walked to the exit. I like her. I like her enthusiasm, her care. I am blessed.
