

# Short-Wave Memory Mum (life-imprisoned on her life savings)

Copyright © 2020: Richard Lung.  
First edition.

Number 4 in the series: Family-splitting.

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## Table of Contents

Preface

Introduction: my Wave Memory theory.

Short-Wave Memory Mum (life-imprisoned on her life savings)

June

July

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### Preface

On 30 june 2020, according to a funeral director, every single care home in town had the covid. Social services twice stopped me from bringing Mum home with a live-in carer (as told in the second book in this series). They put her life in mortal danger, as a result. Yet, their Deprivation of Liberties renewal, which they have the gall to say is for her "safeguard," is just a rubber stamping of her imprisonment. Ella is old and frail, and we dearly want to be back together at home, as we have been, all my life. Her love will be in my heart, till I die.

Social services relentlessly obstructed my mother returning home. Afterwards, I found that the abduction of the helpless young and helpless old alike, children and the elderly, from their families, amounted to a national scandal. This is the fourth in a series, of books and booklets. about "Family-splitting" that has emerged from my mothers misfortunes, at the hands of British bureaucracy:

1) Nutcracker (social services family-splitting).

2) Home Free (How the misery makers of social services twice obstructed Mums home-coming with a live-in carer).

3) Talking To A Cat In The Moonlight (Poorly mind lovely mother).

4) Short-Wave Memory Mum (life-imprisoned on her life savings).

5) Impaired Imprisoned Innocent (speak thy grief). -- [Intended condensation of previous three titles.]

The first title is an abridged and edited version of the second title. "Home Free..." was the original publication, an (up-dated) journal on Mums plight, recording her ordeal as it happened. Consequently, there is too much repetition, and incidental matter, not of general interest. Thus, the reason for the more convenient title, "Nutcracker," meant to draw the attention of the public to a problem for many families.

The third title is taken from a phrase, used by my mother, in telephone conversations, during the coronavirus crisis. Social services Best Interest meeting would not admit her to a discussion, supposed to be in her best interest: They were a (We Know) Best Interests meeting. They gave her zero words to speak for herself. That book gave her over 30,000 words scope to speak out. It is a legal obligation to monitor her wishes, under the Mental Capacity Act.

The fourth title, once again, reveals, much of the time, Ella was acutely aware of the injustice of her imprisonment. Ella is an intelligent woman, having to come to terms with her memory loss, and being caught in social services power game.

The title, Short-Wave Memory Mum, comes from Mums mind reminding me of short wave radio. My new, wave memory theory is introduced in the following introduction.

A few words here about the subtitle, life imprisonment on her life savings. Currently, the county council has stated its intention, as they put it, "to pursue the debt" (which social services themselves incurred by detaining my mother in a care home). My mother is being made to pay with the savings of a lifetimes work, meant for the leisure of her retirement, to force her being miserably imprisoned for the rest of her life.   
The law (in the form of the Mental Capacity Act) which the Hardie report says is not being implemented, obliges scrupulous attention to the wishes of the mentally impaired. This is what I am giving, and what this book conveys, with the rest of the series.

The county council knows that the Ombudsman will investigate my complaint. Instead of even waiting for an independent verdict, they are exerting the total control (totalitarianism) of combining all three branches of government: administration, executive, and judiciary role, as well.

Of course, after careful consideration of an independent judicial decision, those affected are free to make up their own mind, whether it is a good ruling. But the county council official, who contacted me, was not even prepared to do that. (In a manner of speaking, he decided to be judge, jury and executioner!)

This country is not under martial law. We are not obliged to give a knee-jerk obedience to the state. British career politics mimics totalitarian states, like imperialist or communist lands of little dictators, where the officials word is law.

As free citizens, we are only obliged to pay for the service, we accept.

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### Introduction: my Wave Memory theory.

Table Of Contents

Most of the confusion in these conversations comes from my not being able to write it all down, and not from the undoubted confusion in my mothers mind. Much is left out, and much is paraphrase, which I tend to put in brackets, because it probably is a less exact reporting of our speech than the rest of the transcription.

Ella gets names and places all wrong in her mind. She is hopelessly muddled. Actually, her mind is doing damage control. Associating the names, of people she knew, with nearby places, is a traditional memory aid or mnemonic skill. Her mind is trying to retain what memory she has. Ella is also doing what generations of migrants do, which is to take old names to new places, and bring a comforting familiarity to the strange. Beneath Ellas confused imaginings, a useful memory function is being performed. So, I don't "correct" her, any more, which is a bit like trying to pick a shielding scab off a wound. It may be unsightly, but is serving a healing purpose.

While professionals were observing Ella, I was observing the professionals (as they, no doubt, me). Because they are strangers, they only see the damage, that has rendered her mind incapable. They dismiss her as a mental invalid, rather as the physically handicapped used to be regarded as not valid, and segregated.   
Because I have known my mother all my life, I can see the recuperative power of her mind, salvaging memories, to mark out her occluded strange new existence.

This unappreciated situation may be compared with the state of anthropology, in which Bronislaw Malinowski found it. What was dismissed as savage superstition might be serving a useful psychological purpose. To give a simple example of his philosophy of functionalism: The Rain-dance may not bring rain but it may bring the community together, to face times of hardship.   
The function exists on an unconscious emotional level, not in its factual pretensions.

This cross-fertilisation of anthropology with psychology also came from the opposite field of study. To better understand the unconscious mind, Carl Gustav Jung visited traditional tribal peoples of Africa and America, closer to the original human way of thinking. Likewise, he studied ancient and medieval documents, for instance, the I Ching, Gnosticism, and Alchemy.

Another social worker rubber-stamping another unspeakable deprivation of liberty assessment, from the social services (state police), on Ella, judged her, by a (2 june 2020) phone call, a very charming lady but doesn't know her own needs. That was after I poured my heart out, at the injustices of Ellas treatment (essentially the section on the Best Interests meeting, in my journal, Home Free...). All of this was ignored in the subsequent Deprivation form.   
(The name of the social worker, responsible for the assessment, was not given on the document, tho she said it would be there.) She said the deprivaton was "a duty of care". That is to say social services hiring out the care home as my mothers jailers, at her own expense.   
They couldn't care less about what misery they inflict, or its helpless protests. Human hypocrisy will yet be its undoing, as deceit amounts to self-deceit, and a failure to adjust to reality.

The social worker also said that Ella was staying in her bedroom, after they changed her medication. I think they must have changed it again, because Ella was now back in the lounge, and her manner was changed. I don't know quite how to describe it, sort of quietly beseeching, and extra affectionate.

When does medication become manipulation? Certainly, I would not trust social services, that arm of government control. The authorities have been pumping Ella with tablets, everyday, to facilate their institutionalising her, which is what it amounts to. (It reminds of that movie, called: Brazil, or any dystopia, going by the generic name of Orwellian.) At home, much less intrusive dosage probably would have been called for.

In the past, I noted that Ella was managing with her speech, but sometimes it was a struggle. I couldn't help but wonder how much medication had to do with this.

On 21 June, Ellas speech was fairly feeble and slow. Loss of short term memory was more in evidence from her repeated questions. At the end of a long call, her anxiety, to hear from me again, made her go round in circles, with this request. Patience and love was called for, and I was glad to give it.

On that day, also, Ella expressed the timeless monotony, of being sat in a room in a chair, all day. The Deprivation of Liberty resembles a psychologists "sensory deprivation" experiment, that rapidly drives every subject into hallucinatory madness! The worst kind of environment, you could have, for a dementia patient. But the blooming "experts" don't know or care.

Ella couples a resident, she christens "Win," with a husband, because she knew her former friend, with this name, as one of a couple. Partly, this is about them, rather than her actual companion, in the lounge.   
However, mentally normal people also bring preconceptions, based on former acquaintances, to their understanding, or misunderstanding, of new ones. This is the second time Ella grafted an old friends name onto a new acquaintance, at the residence. Her mind appears to be conducting a memory-salvaging operation, as an anchor of familiarity, in strange and bewildering surroundings.

Also, Ella tended to use my name, Richard, as one familiar to hand, tho she knew, when questioned, that she did not actually mean me. And was muddled by my saying that I am Richard, because she said she knew that.   
In my experience, a change of society has led me to match old acquiantance with new, on no more than a vague resemblance. It's comforting, I think.

There appears to be a continuity between a normal mind and Ellas mental impairment, even if it involves a big shift, like a shift from medium wave to short wave radio. Continuity of memory might be compared to the longer wave reception of a radio station. The analogy would run, that Ellas loss of memory is more like a loss of continuous memory or a loss of long and medium wave radio reception, leaving her only broken-up short wave reception. Memories may be more or less still there, but they are locked in a very short band of access.

On short wave radio, you're always blundering into neighboring stations, you don't want. And memory has been compared to a rugged terrain, in which it is easy to slip off the desired path. Again, this is normal to any mind but it is greatly accentuated for the dementia patient.

The continuity of normal memory, like a road, has changed, with Ellas dementia, into stepping stones, from which it is easy to stumble, and get bogged down or lost. It resembles a loss of capacity for logic, or the ability of the mind to follow consecutive steps. But Ella still can reason wisely, on the spot. And she still comes up with good advice, days after a topic was discussed. Even if she comes up with it again, in a confused way, that you could not relate, at first, to a former discussion, the essence of what she says, is still worth heeding.

No doubt, in accord with the Mental Capacity Act, professionals are required, at intervals, to keep a measure of the dementia patients memory. When I was visiting, shortly after Ella was hospitalised, the staff nurse came round with a few test questions, like: where do you live; and how old are you. On 13 June, and 17 July, Mum asked me these two questions. It may have been that she was recently tested, and, failing to answer, was anxious to know from me.

Centralised government produces these standardised questions, which can be collected by machines, to become the statistics of mass observation. Such quiz show intelligence is pedantic and impersonal, and not a basis for dealing with individual human beings, in relationships of family and friends. My mothers reaction to her forgetfulness, with modesty, humility and humor, deserved better.

A day later, on 14 June, I did get the feeling that Ella was being fed the official line about detaining her in the care home. If there was a mental test, the previous day, that could have been the (specious) reaction to its results. (She reverted to her usual views, afterwards.) That is just my speculation, directed by straws in the wind, from Ellas conversation, on those two days. It doesn't matter when the testers came. It is perhaps of some interest to know one could sometimes pick up a trace of their recent presence in Ellas conversation.

On 18 June, Ella believed that she had been out for a country walk, in the sunshine, to the village, after the first village, from the farm, where she used to live. Ella has made that walk, when she was very young. She told me a good story about it.

I took her dream or vision as normal. In dull weather, it would be natural to dream of the sunshine. Kept locked in a care home, it would be natural for a country girl to dream of going on a country walk.

Even her belief, in the reality of her experience, is not so far removed from the normal. We believe our dreams, and even have a lingering belief in them, on waking up. I did not question the reality of her dream. Life is a dream. As has been recognised from time immemorial. And when I helped her locate herself, apart from a momentary confusion, she fell-in with her present situation.

Dreaming, that she went for a walk in the sunshine, was more like a day-dream or a naturalistic dream. On 19 June, Ella had a more dream-like dream, than that just described. It belonged much more to the night. It was removed from the influence of logic; more chaotic and archaic.

I must admit, it did put me out, at first. It also gave me new understanding. When I visited, Ella had refered to furniture in the lounge, as being her mothers, and she talked about being at school. In her telephone conversation, I was now made aware that these beliefs were part of a comprehensive dream. Ella is living in a world of dreams, as the song, Let It Be, says.

Dreams are normally fleeting, like a vanquished awareness. With Ella, a dream scenario might have a sustained influence on her perception of reality. A dream signal has become a stable transmission, eclipsing conventional reality. What could this mean, in terms of a wave memory reception? The fugitive short-wave memories, of the archaic mind in dreams have changed places with the normal accessible medium-wave memories of the modern mind? This looks less like a dementia, as loss of memory, than a conservation of memory thru transfer of accessible reception.

But she retains the ability to switch to mundane reality. I started to explain that she was hospitalised, after falling out of bed. After an initial confusion, she tersely said that she knew all about that; I needn't repeat it, she wasn't blaming me.

The dream-maker associates life-time events, any old how, from a logical point of view. Never the less, as Ella told me herself, she was conveying a harsher reality, in her relation with her parents, than she had let-on to me, before. Her usual attitude to her mother was as a disciple.

And Ella was worried about her constipation. Ella remembered she'd been to hospital. In fact, it was a serious emergency operation for a prolapse. Before the quarantine, I saw for myself that they were not heeding Ellas condition but just randomly feeding her from the food trolley. She was offered some stodgy macaroni, which neither of us could have eaten. It was just typical institutional treatment of people in the mass. If only I could get her home. On the phone, I learned things hadn't changed. She was being given things like hard toasted teacake, sugar-coated biscuits, glutinous sandwiches. She herself said flour is bad for constipation.  
She told me that the staff was young and inexperienced. And she knew better how to look after herself. It is over-looked by control-freak authorities that what the patient says, about her needs, may be substantially true, and contain valid criticism of her supervision.

I felt compelled to bring this up with the staff, later. She was very nice, and said I was right to do so. I told that Ella got the prolapse, when they took her off a purée diet. I explained that we are old and can't eat hard foods, which is why I got a heavy duty blender (JR Ultra). Then the carer said that decision of diet lay with Speech and Language Therapy! – What have they done to this country!   
("They" being the career politicians, in their safe seats, "elected" with their dud voting methods.) They've trussed the country up in red tape, and robbed it of all common sense and personal initiative. The ambition of the war-and-spin politicians, the New Labour "legacy," resembles a new Imperial Germany realpolitik of force and fraud. They have succeeded, where foreign invaders failed, to impose a land of little dictators, in which the officials word is law. (The sickly fare kept coming.)

When New Labour had come to power, I was in a charity shop, listening to some old girls, old enough to have been thru the War. They were reciting some new bureaucratic rules. One, I remember they stated, was that there had to be no smoking, in the home, for half-an-hour, before an official visited. They concluded: "It's a police state. – Yes, it's a police state."

The Childrens Act of 1989 censors any reporting of the Family Courts and the Court of Protection. People are thrown in jail for trying to let us know what goes-on there. So, it isn't just Labours fault, for what amounts to a secret police state. Know the truth and it will make you free. The state hides the truth to make you slaves.

Ella complained that she had worked-for and bought a house, that she was not allowed to live in. In her dementia, she believed she had never lived in it. Memory has been compared to a terrain. And it had opened up a gulf between her and her home. This might or might not remain the case. However, certain memory cues might still give her access to locked-down areas of her mind. Not all the memory terrain might be inaccessible to her. 70 years of life together gave me memory cues to help her negotiate her personal memory terrain. But social services had shut me out of her life, by not letting Mum back home, to live with me, and with all the old associations, that entailed, to jog her ageing memory.   
I gave our street address (as on 12 July). Ella recognised it, when she was told it: she still had passive memory. This was not a serviceable fact for home-breaking social services.

These "professionals", they pride themselves to be, are state functionaries, protecting a bad system, of oppression, exploitation, and hypocrisy, from the radical reform, it, and they, deserve.   
Fate played a particularly cruel trick on Ella. She was a small business-woman, whose very livelihood depended on following every whim and fancy of the customer. Only for her to be put in the unmerciful hands of salaried sinecures.

Securing shelter is regarded, by everyone, as an important achievement in their lives. And Ella takes a justifiable pride, in doing this, for her family. At the same time, she's bitterly aware of its being snatched from her, near the end of her life. I grieve for her.

From a scientific point of view, I was surprised by Ella having two distinct memories of acquiring the house. The first memory I would attempt to describe as a dream-like understanding of the archaic mind. She thinks of coming across the house, as a short-cut, by crossing some fields, on her way from the farm-house, where she lived as a young woman. The term "short-cut" is itself revealing. There is no such geography. But the short-cut, across the fields, does exist in the geography of her mind. She told me that she bought the house because it had a field opposite. It took her mind back to the fields of her youth.

My surprise came, when a day later, on 9 July, Ella jogged my own memory, with a realistic account of how and why she acquired the house.

#### A Wave Memory theory.

I compare Ellas memory to a short wave radio reception. Unlike a discrete digital broadcast, the analog radio broadcast drifts in and out of crowded short wave radio signals. The wave memory theory, that I will develop here, is my own personal exploration. In a search or research, there are bound to be false trails and dead ends. That is in the nature of scientific exploration. My theory is a beginning, not an end.

In general, people receive the signals of both their archaic minds and their modern minds. Generally, they receive them on a stable reception, like medium wave radio. This is apart from the historical fact, that certain analog bandwidths became too crowded with radio stations, to be tenable, any longer, for broadcasting. (The BBC agreed to take Radio 3 off medium wave transmission.) And it may be, that something analogous to this increased load was happening to Ellas mind, to account for her slide into dementia. It may even explain, as the least strong signals, why the most fragile mental functions and concepts, those most recent to our evolution, like logic and arithmetic, and space and time, were most readily abandoned.

The increased crowding of signals creates a relatively short wave radio reception, even on a medium wave broadcast. Analog radio signal loss, as an analogy to dementia, implies that the mind only has to slightly "de-tune", for a large loss of information, to ensue.

Possibly a factor, that has been largely over-looked, is that a de-tuning dementia, not only implies mental loss, but can also imply mental acquirement, thru the dementia sufferer slipping into unintended channels.

Conservation of memory reception (at least partial) might apply if there were no irrepairable information loss to the mind, thru substantial brain damage, which seems unlikely, given the wear and tear of age deterioration.

Most of us, most of the time, do not understand our dreams and forget them, perhaps because we have lost contact with our archaic minds, from lack of conscious use. We have stopped or given-up searching for their signals. But Ellas mind has slipped onto their wavelength. Ella has access to dreams, which continue to be remembered and believed, in her waking consciousness. They are not false memories. Rather, they seem to be archaic mind memory aids. And her consciousness can slip into, and out of, real memories, by normal standards of the modern mind.

Ellas belief that she had been on a country walk, which this country girl must have been countless times, was so realistic to her, that she could not doubt its reality. And she was right to do so. It is just that the vision was so vivid, the signal so strong, that it appeared to be happening, the day she remembered it. The strength of signal was fostered by Ellas contrasting months-long imprisonment indoors. Just as any long sensory impression is liable to produce an image of its opposite.

So, it is possible, at least, on this radio analogy, that some dementia sufferers may offer potential mental gains, as well as losses. If this is so, why they have not been recognised and implemented is easy to explain.

Dementia is poorly understood. Ellas condition remained "undiagnosed". She has been forcibly separated from the mutual love of her son, who has lived with her, 70 years, and from the associations of her home. She has suffered a bewildering loss of bearings, by a hateful imprisonment, however caring, in a strange location among strangers. Ella has heroically endured the sensory deprivation experiment, by which psychologists have induced hallucinations and madness.   
Her companion, Audrey confided to me: If you weren't mad when you came in here, you would be, by the time you left.   
She has been left to sit in a chair in a room, for one long day after another, as she herself said, wondering when it will ever end.

That leaving her mother, like a cabbage, is why a daughter brought her home, only for a "Gestapo" social worker, to bring in police battering rams, to haul her mother away again. Since then, care homes have been reduced to creepy code-locked prisons, Britains Gulag for the elderly. Norman Lamb said, Britain has become a country neglectful of the elderly. They should be allowed to live at home, if they wish, as research shows virtually all do, where they can be helped by family, friends and neighbors. Social services zealously obstructed this.

Inactivity is especially intolerable to Ella, who has always been a hard-working woman, with little respite from doing one thing after another. She would often say to me: What do we do next?

She would tell me about how she lay awake all night, trying to think how to make the next sale, in the shop. She would be window dressing, in the small hours. This habitual intense focus of mental energy and physical activity corresponds to wave patterns of high-frequency. We know from physics that high-frequency waves have short wave-lengths. And we used to be familiar from analog radio signals, that short wave radio gives the least stable signals.

So, here we have a potential explanation for Ellas dementia. A habitual contraction of the wavelengths of her mind have lost her contact with vital memory channels. If so, it took a long time to happen, say almost thirty years.

But there is more to tell. Ella had a history of pneumonia, originally caught in her childhood. Her husband saved her life, by swaddling all of her, but her nostrils, in blankets, that she might sweat out her cold. I saw it as a child. To me, this sweating was the way to save her. By the time she reached 94, she was increasingly getting into the habit of turning up the electric heater, till she was in a sweat. Then she had to take off her damp clothes, to dry on the heater, having to find more clothes to put on, getting them damp, and then repeating the cycle. This cycle became ever more frequent, exhausting herself (and me, trying to assist her).

That is, until, she fell out of bed behind the door, and I had to call in the ambulance to release her. Ella was hospitalised, and I was put under suspicion, with a safeguarding warning, which I was not told about, for three weeks, and of which I did not fully realise the seriousness. It was really a presumption of guilt procedure, and suspicion continued, even after it was declined. And what is worse, obstruction continued, unabated, against us.

To get back to the point of the intensifying cycle of heating, sweating, and drying out. This is like an increasing wave frequency, which implies a corresponding extreme narrowing of wavelength. And this might well explain Ellas loss of memory signals.   
Moreover, I tried to talk to Ella about our shared memories. But she told me she didn't want to know about the past, which had so many unpleasant memories for her, of a frankly miserable and hard life. Miserable from loss of closest family, and the sheer work-load she had to endure.   
She also told me that she didn't want to know about the future either, because at her age she had no future. She was only interested in now. What we call the present is actually life on the shortest wavelength. (This is perhaps the life on a knife-edge sensation, that highly active people are seeking.)

There is an interesting scientific aside, here. What we call the present, regarded as an instant in time, corresponds to the classical physics concept of a point, being of zero dimensions. Whereas, quantum physics is governed by the Heisenberg uncertainty principle. This involves an inverse relation of frequency to wavelength. You can only approach a point position, by narrowing the wavelength. But this increases the frequency, which amounts to the motive power of energy, not staying in one place.   
This instability of position, from high energy, suggests an explanation for the inability of Ellas mind to stay tuned. As a matter of fact, when I mentioned Ella was restless, a carer said: She's always restless.   
By the way, the uncertainty principle is not confined to quantum physics. I once read that engineers are also familiar with it.

A scientific theory has to have predictive power. The prediction of my short-wave memory analogy, to Ellas unstable recollections, is that obsessive behavior, meaning the increasing indulgence of a habit, narrows memory bandwidth or receptivity, which is to say, is conducive of dementia or memory loss. In other words, the accelerating repetition of a compulsion is inversely related to memory access.

Light, an electro-magnetic wave, has a constant velocity, which equals wave frequency multiplied by wave-length. Accelerating behavior traits are to be distinguished from behavior traits also having a "velocity." The latter is to say repetitive behavior, that runs at a steady rate. Such steady state habits are often called rituals. The point of them was not much seen, till Malinowski drew attention to the functional nature of rituals for society. One can also see how established rituals might build a social structure.

The distinction between velocity and acceleration, here applied to behavior, comes from the physics of motion, or mechanics. Einstein and Infeld, in their book, The Evolution Of Physics, drew attention to a pivotal moment, in the history of their science, when Galileo discovered that motions were caused, not by velocity, but by acceleration. Bodies would always go on, with a given velocity, were not this velocity changed (accelerated or decelerated) by so-called external forces.

Nature has a parallel distinction, between velocity and acceleration, in society. The velocity of society is its steady social rituals (perhaps constituting its social structure). The momentum of these rituals may be gauged by the sheer weight or mass of emotional commitment to them. These would be the most religiously observed rituals. (In physics, momentum is velocity multiplied by mass.) These rituals would continue steadily on, velocity-like, but for external forces, accelerating or decelerating them, just as the laws of Galileo and Newton say, for the physics of motion.   
In society, religious revivals are "accelerating" forces on religious ritual. And mundane distractions and pleasures are the "decelerating" forces.  
The Golden Bough, by Sir James Frazer, is about the evolution, or historical mutations, of rituals.

Darwin theory of evolution by natural selection is a parallel discovery to that of Galileo, identifying acceleration, and not velocity, as the motive force. Just as velocity had been the focus of motion, species, considered as sacrosanct, had been the focus of nature study. Darwin changed that focus to lifes environment, exerting a natural selection, the equivalent of Newtons external forces, exerting their accelerating or decelerating influence on an evolution of mutating species.

A similar comparison could be made for the evolutionary principle that Enid Lakeman recognised in transferable voting. (The quota is the "velocity" of elective votes per seats. The voters choice is equivalent to the natural selection of the environment. The accelerating or decelerating influence of a preference vote makes possible the evolutionary mutations of choice, in the "survival of the fittest" representatives.)

My mothers habit of life was becoming more compulsive, signalling the onset of dementia, considered here as a shortening of memory bandwidth. Conversely, it might be possible to reverse or stay that loss of memory access, by releasing the patient from the intense focus of compulsive behavior.

I perceive, in my own mental processes, the bad habit of interminably recycling some issue, driven by powerful emotions, uselessly battling current worries, like this cruel imprisonment of my mother. Obsessive compulsion is a well–known disorder, to be avoided. (On a remarkably "well-tuned" day, 18 July 2020, Ella herself made this point, of a "wailer," at the care home.) To some extent, it is a normal frailty of the mind. -- Like when we can't get an annoying tune out of our head. JB Priestley found the only remedy was to hammer out the song on the piano.

Priestley was turning a passion into a rational action. Spinoza advised turning a passio to an actio via ratio. RG Collingwood discussed this problem of the human mind, as exemplified in ancient myth. A shape-shifting god, Proteus, would continue to assail one, in every conceivable animal form. The only way to reduce him to his harmless actual state, was to say: I name thee, Proteus.

It was once thought that the onset of brain degeneration was inevitable. Whereas the brain may have much more plasticity and potential for regeneration. (The Tell-Tale Brain, by VS Ramachandran.)

The mind being stuck in a memory cycle is a give-away that memory is a wave form. In contrast, tho, memories can be hard to access. The inability to recall some desired fact can be almost as exasperating as the facts that one can't get out of ones head. Memory has been compared to a terrain, some of which is easily reached, and other parts of which pose insurmountable difficulties, at least for the time being. This is a good analogy, and it can be reconciled with memories as wave-forms. Fourier waves are wave-forms that can take on every kind of irregularity. Their terrains can mimic geographical terrains.

Nobody believed Fourier when he discovered that all irregular wave-forms can be made-up of combinations of simple harmonic waves of different amplitudes and wavelengths.

This offers an explanation of why the relatively simple harmonies of song are so easily memorable, indeed often compulsive. The music industry thrives on this compulsion for song. When the Beatles offered their fans improved versions of their early hits, the audience didn't want them. They wanted the early familiar spontaneous outpourings, without the trouble of clever modifications, to tax the memory.

In a Hope and Crosby film of two down-and-out musicians, Bob Hope says: We don't work, we are musicians. (The joke being that music is played.) Old people may remember their childhood with such clarity, because it was a time of play. This was a time before the mind was contracted or focused on education and occupation. If you are being harnessed, like a work-horse, it is not surprising if you do not want to remember the experience. As Ella said, child-rearing is very hard work. But it also enjoys the vicarious experience of memorably watching childs play.

It could only be harmful to Ella, being made to sit in a chair, all day long, everyday, in the midst of a lonely crowd of residents, strangers, to each other, who hardly ever talk to her.

The 15 July call illustrated how my not being allowed to bother with Ella has left her not bothering about herself. It is a vicious circle of neglect of her, leading to neglect of herself, being used as an excuse to neglect her, further. This was Ella at her most resigned, stuck in repetitive cycles of topics, like the miserable weather, the lack of conversation from other residents, and the pointless telly.

Perhaps, without knowing its full implications, Ella was the wilful dismisser of her memory signals. However, just like the radio, you can lose a signal, but it is still there somewhere, and may, to some extent, be found again. And this is true of Ellas memory; much of it is still there, if you can access it. What is more, much can be accessed, that you could never access before, in her normal state.

When Ella was still in her first hospital ward, lying in bed, I approached her, saying: Hello, sweetheart.   
Ella was not fully awake, her mind adrift. It was natural for her to associate being in hospital with her child-birth. She must have taken me for her husband (sweetheart), because she asked: Have you brought the bairn? Is he downstairs? Richard, little Dickie?

It was like being taken back in a time machine nearly 70 years, seeing thru the eyes of my father, as a newly married man, with an infant child. I felt incredibly privileged, and deeply moved, to be such a witness of mothers love of my earliest self.

The previous book, of Ellas conversations, admitted many imperfections, in my record, which also apply to this sequel.

* * *

## Short-Wave Memory Mum (life-imprisoned on her life savings)

Table Of Contents

26 May.

Thank you, love. Ta.

Hello Richard.... As long as you are all right, I don't mind. I miss you so much, tho. I've been on me own today. Dad was out.... Bessie goes out the other way, so I don't see her, and the other ones. I don't see 'em. Might as well be King Kong (with a rueful little laugh, for all she sees of them. Ella imagines three school mates in nearby rooms.) Dad has a flat across the road; he got one...

Yes, Mum.

You sound like a pupil talking to her teacher.

I am, aren't I?

(Ella latched on to the name of a former associate, she imagined seeing -- ) Where?... I've forgotten.... Gone, I'm lost for words. I'm not very good at yapping away.

(Ella mentions names of people she thinks have got nearby flats:) I can't remember the name of the blooming place.... The post office has shifted. You told me that. That's where they buy their flats....I can't remember it, the blooming place you left me in...

Mum, I tried to get you home...

I know you are not to blame for anything. I love you. I don't think about that rubbish. (She murmurs:) Get enough of it....

The wind is blowing in town. Quite strong... Don't you make it hard and nasty for yourself. Do it quietly. You know what I mean. It might be ages before I get there (home)....

(A former friend) bought a flat over the road from me. The biggest flat; it wants to be, when you sleep there. And she's come across the road to be near someone she knows. So, she plonked herself opposite me.... (Ella names a side street in town, with a word association to her own home street:)... built opposite waste ground. They'll build on it, all choc-a-bloc.... It's windy, blowing a noise... Some-times I think you've gone to Tipperary. In south Ireland, isn't it? (She sings the song.)

You were wonderful, when you sang to me.

(She sings again, a bit hoarsely this time:)

My little boy, he's lovely,

I love him more than I can say.

I wish he was here

and then I'd be full of joy.

Is that a good 'un? I forget it, as soon as I sing it...

My Little Richard,

what are you doing today?

I bet you've been a nice little boy,

and never went out to play.

My Little Richard,

wish he was here today.

Haven't seen him for weeks ago

and now I'm going to cry.

(She didn't, tho.)

What are you doing, Richard? I don't know. It's funny, when talking on the phone. She don't know what to say, because she's tongue-tied. I wish you were here. Where are you now? (I give her home address.) You aren't? That's my house. It's a nice place to be. I bet you're pleased to be there.... It's a funny auld life. I'm still on me bed. I was quite off-color for quite a while. Maybe a bit better.

I never mope but keep busy with doing useful things.

I know, but don't over-do it. It can drive you up the gum tree. [She's right.]

Have you seen a pussy-cat?

Not since the ginger cat, I told you about.

I think he belongs to somebody, but is a bit nervous.

The greenery is beautiful.

Oh, it will do. It's a beautiful area, isn't it? I hope it doesn't get built-up in that area. If they can sell something for a lot of money, they will. I have a feeling if they got a lot of money they would, because it's a lovely area, just there....

Is there owt important, you can tell me?... What else can we do? Funny auld things, aren't we? Everyone has got their problems, not just us,... more or less... Even those with plenty of money, for not knowing what to do with it... A lot of my school associates live round about where I live.... We'll get one, near Ella... Two or three or four families come from round about where I came from. But plenty, besides me, are from away....

You get tired, don't you?

I do, I'm not a very good yapper. Yapper, he's yapping away. Oh dear, what can I do? What can I say?... I don't think the town is what it used to be...Is thi there? Is thi ga-in'? That's Yorkshire. It drops off her tongue like a drop of watter. Different regions aren't the same.... I'm a bit timid, because I don't know anybody. I'm Yorkshire and they maybe think I'm a dope....

What do you want to hear?

I can't hear nowt. I don't know, how could I know what I want to hear? I some-times think what has happened. I haven't got my parents any more. I've never gotten used to that. It does feel strange when you haven't got 'em. They are not there, at all, they've died. And Gordon died, didn't he? He had hectic years in the war. He got commissioned, in the end. He had to come out. I think he was, you know, tired. He wasn't really old when he died.

(His daughter:) She talked about family.

What else can she talk about?... (The phone cuts off.   
Much of this long conversation repeated previous days. We didn't know what to say. I relaxed and just listened...)

* * *
27 May.

(Ella is lent a new smart phone:)... It's for the club... The sound, isn't it good?   
I've ever been a person that wasn't too chatty.... I go for so long, and then I'm sick of it. I don't like it. They (staff) ask me if I'm sure I don't want to go in (the lounge). Two or three people get together and you never get a chance (to converse)... It isn't a proper lounge, if you go with someone else (self-contained)... At home, I move around and sit different ways (not stuck in one place). It doesn't suit me, I've never liked it. They all gang up with regular friends.

(Ella identifies a new friend with an old golf partner:) I noticed her legs are too bad for golf, now. (She makes similar remarks about others.) So, I'm not the only one.... I've got a little golf course in front of me (outside her bedroom window, where it would seem they are planting flowers, which she mentions:) They are working on it... And covered it up, so it won't die over-night. It's a pretty little front they've got settled in.

I didn't know you were looking out on it all.

If I go next door or upstairs, I can see it all (the golf course). You'd laugh, you'll never guess what they've done to the tree... If they don't look out, they'll bust over what they can do next.

(Ella brought up the mystery letter writer again:) He wrote as if he knew me... To get some help or summot...I've never answered it. He just wanted a pen-friend, out of the blue. Maybe wanted me to leave him sommot, when I snuff it. But I don't have owt to do with 'em. I'd never lower myself like that. There's a lot of things even worse than that. Grandad would say: He wants to get his sleeves rolled up.... (Ella had letters written from young men, away in the war.)

I missed them (war-time Americans) when they went away, because it was an entirely different thing. They have such a nice friendly way of talking to you, with their "Yes, Mam." One or two were very vain. Tall and handsome. That one, on the bridge, with sharks in the river, he wasn't half.

Sharks in the river?

There used to be a goosy gander came. I used to think it was a beautiful place....

(Ella recalls the last time her Dad called her back, to help with harvesting, by driving the tractor, while he did the bailer. This was before the days of the combine harvester:) I had to stop the tractor, just right, every 10 or 20 feet. I think even he was impressed by how I did it exactly right, but he didn't say anything. He was going to get a lad to do it, until he found he couldn't afford it. He was careful with his money.   
I used to be like that, a bit. I didn't like to lose a sale. A man buys something for his wife, and they want the best....

I'm broken-hearted, because I thought I'd done a wonderful job buying that house. It's a lovely little house. I thought it the nicest thing anyone could have. I don't think I'm forceful enough for doing things for myself....

(Dad no longer lives there, having passed on:) Don't talk ridiculous, he hasn't died.... Oh, yes, he did. I'm broken-hearted about that. I was thinking about him and getting cross with him not coming back on a night.... And nobody told me how or why he died....

As I was saying, I've had a bad dream life, really rotten. Dad was alive, and I was upset, because he'd gone to Hull to see some work there. He wanted the money and wanted to buy a house there, so you didn't have to trek. It was an intense dream, so life-like that it appeared perfectly real, and true to life, as if I was alive, but I was asleep. I thought both are there now. I thought you were both at home, this morning. Why should I dream about that, so true to life with all the details?

When I look on the wall, I see all pretty colours (in various visions, even amongst other people. Ella apparently also had benign hallucinations, that were peaceful and warm, and not distressing.. She soon put them out of mind, when I asked her to repeat details.)

As a child, I used to get dreams. I get really worked up and worried about you two, not being here. I thought you were out. I've never seen you all day. I thought you'd come down today. (Some-one departed with the second blanket, I asked staff to bring Ella, because she feels cold without it. But she also felt the warmer weather, which may have helped to lift her spirits.)   
Well, darling, I love you very much, the best thing I've got. As for Dad... I was way out. I've cleaned it out of my mind. You see I get worried and lonely. (Of her letters:) One day, when I'm free and enough time, I'll go thru 'em, right from the start. He used to write me. I can't remember his name, and I knew him so well. I have a lapse, sometimes. You get a lapse of peoples names....

Maybe you're tired, I'll ring off now. I'll let you go. You'll ring tomorrow evening? (Mum gives a loving and affectionate good-bye.)

* * *
28 May.

I'm drying out me clothes around the stove. What are you doing?

Jobs. I'm still working on putting a cubicle round the new ground floor toilet.

(Ironic:) You surprise me. It'll be hard work.... I'm drying out all me rags. You can't keep right in one room.

We've central heating now.

Don't talk to me about that. I've never been in the blooming thing.

Yes, Mum.

You make me sound like a schoolmarm. (She chuckles.)... It ain't half windy and cold here. And I've nowt to tell you. I've been all day drying me clothes, and I have to get it dry, to wear it again. All laid out where I can get a bit of heat out of it.

You haven't to get too sweaty.

Well, it's very hard. It's different when you live out in the country....

(With the quarantine, I'm as lonely as she is:) I bet you are. You don't seem to have owt to tell me. (Only the jobs.) I'm by myself in a dump that I don't want. I don't want to live here, on my own, permanently. But I think I will be going to die here.   
(Lamenting her house:) I never get any use out of anything I do.... I'm not going out. I don't like meeting people in the corridors, that I don't know.... There is nothing, except that I think the world of you.

(And I think the world of you, too. And would help, if I could.)

You would like to do a lot of things but they never happen, so don't mention them. I pretend there isn't such a thing. Best way an' all. I don't want you to mention the house. It makes me sick. Why am I in a room like this? What the hell are we doing? It's weird....

Officials have too much power.

It's not worth talking about. Doesn't do any good talking about it, just makes you sick. Others don't have troubles like that. Why me? All I can think about is somebody's picking on us. I've never done owt, never done a wrong thing. Why? I aren't doing anything. I can't understand it. I'm living, it's not my fault, that's all I've done. Oh well...

Well, I won't talk about it, if you don't want me to. [In retrospect, social services seemed to conduct a set policy of hi-jacking Ella from her only family and companion, myself.]

Why bother? It's just going to make it worse, thinking about it.... I'll tell you something. You know the notices on the doorways? I read it up, possibly (seeing her Dads name and her name). [His name is on a village war memorial.] It's really funny. Did you know that? They've got history of people on hold, and on photos. Really fascinating really. It only comes on occasionally, when I happen to be there, sitting in the doorway. It's amazing how much my (birth-)place is mentioned. Very interesting, in a way. It's history, written as history. It was on tv, across the hallway....

I try to keep me house spotless clean. I washed the windows, the frames across the road, once-over. They were pleased but I shouldn't have done. I'm too auld...  
Those retired farming people have settled in a flat in a big yard. I don't think they'll find owt better. They'll just stay there. She goes wandering about the streets and looks around the windows. He doesn't go. He doesn't like it, you see.

By God, it's cold... It's awful inside, when you're allus doing jobs and making things better, and never finish. It goes on and on forever. I've heard it at home. (She laughs.) It's funny. I've never bothered to see (the work done)... I'm like Dino.

That's me, yes.

Walking heavy, when you're little, some heavy shoes on... Your little bike, your little three wheeler? (Yes.) You were always around it. It had to go with you, if you went 20 yards. (I'm here, sunshine.) I want to hear what you have to say, which is nowt... I never see you.

I can't come because of the infection.

I know that, Dino. It's all right, I just said it. I shouldn't have done. It's just sad I never see you. I'm (landed?) to live here the rest of my life. Here I am with all the bad luck in the world. Why, it's not funny, it's strange....

It's not your fault, Mum.

It just happens to be how it is.... We never get a heat-wave.

(I can't go in it.) I like it when it's moderate...

(I must have said some words meant to be conciliatory, because Ella responds:) Oh, don't bother about that. It's all rubbish. All my life, I've heard of these things, and it never happens. I don't think it or expect it, it's always been nothing. It's funny things couldn't be nice by mistake. You get all this rubbish and bad luck....

I was thinking of an uncle. (She asked if I'd been to see him, and I described the time we went:) I don't like things o'er and o'er again. It has to be very nice. (Uncle said of his apprenticeship:) Seven years tailoring for nowt. Seven years and no money. (She laughs:) Isn't it awful?... I don't take on, about either way.... It's not worth it. It never happens, if you do. I don't bother about nowt. It happens what it wants, and that's it....

I had cold feet and I get cramp.... You can't ask them. They always have something to do. I don't think they want the jobs, either, but have to have them for a living. Oh, terrible, isn't it?... When we were young kids talking, we were going to run away to a nice place. But where the hell is that?

I've nobody to get me a bottle. [I kept Mum supplied with hot water bottles.] The blooming heater doesn't always warm me very well. I didn't work all me life for that. It just goes to show how I had to depend on myself, all my life.... Nobody knows what's in store for themselves. They think they can (manage) but not entirely.... I'd better leave you. Take care, love. God bless. I love you. You will ring in the evening, about 6 o'clock?

Yes, about that.

* * *
29 May.

... (The sun) is like a cold white lamp, hanging up there. It's a bit pale today. Very cold, it's like a winter day. Isn't it ridiculous how cold it is? How could anybodys summer be like that?... "Yes ma'am": You're going all American. Can you send a bit of warm up here?...   
It can't be helped. I can't do any more than I have done. I wouldn't know how to start. What can I say? "Codswallop." Does it mean it's rubbish? (Yeh.)   
What's that funny noise?

It's my nose, breathing in the phone.

Where are you now? (Her home address.)

I didn't realise it. I don't believe it. I'm stuck here. And I just can't believe how did it get like that?

You told me not to talk about it.

No, don't talk about it.... Are you in this big building?

No, I'm at your home.

I'm pleased about that. How do you do it? I can't do it. Oh, well, that's my fate. I don't try to analyse it. I just accept it. That's my fate.... Oh, I don't want you to go into any business. It bores me stiff.... I didn't realise you were in the town. I was thinking you were away. It seems ironic we are so near, and never meet. It's a puzzle to me. Life's a puzzle for me, more than it ever was. It was less puzzle when I was a kid. More puzzle, I mean. I don't know which...  
You could come and see me.

(I mention the quarantine.)

How long it will be on, nobody knows. It could last for years, longer than I live -- (My fear, too)... All I talk-to is the woman bringing a plate of food, and she won't stop. Talk about help and care! But for that, I would be left on my own, if they stopped bringing that.... (About something I said:) I know it all, without talking. That's living, having lived.

I'm so busy, I don't know I've no company.

(Mum approves of taking my mind off things.) What can I tell you? I wish you were here; wish I could see you.... There's no heat in this room, it was going to be warm and cosy, and it's a cawd (cold) hole. I haven't got nothing now. I'm just sitting out in the cold. That's how I always end up. I've got the door shut now. I have now.

Why do you say Richard left the door open?

He left it open because he thinks you're healthy enough to stand it...

My name is Richard.

You might have been him. You muddle me up, I don't know. You live with me and belong to me. I don't know nowt now. I know you're my Richard and that's all.

That's true.

I don't think about little things. It's big things that bother me. You're mine, you're my Richard. What should I call you?... (Ella sometimes seems to say it's the weather, being too cold, that keeps me away. I explain again it's the infection.) – I know what it is, I've known since it started.... I'd better let you go. I love you and you love me -- for saying nowt.

(Of her house:) I bought it and I paid for it. I never do any good for mi'sen. I shan't be here long. I think I've had it. Anyway, I love you. My only love, I haven't any more. I don't know where they all are.... There's colored spots all over, in natural light, and all like flowers. I don't know why... Why! I shouldn't keep you on the phone. But I can't think hard enough to talk quick on the phone.

You're fine, you're wonderful.

Aye, I know, I's real wonderful, wonderbar. (She laughs out.)... My feet are cold in bed, and I hardly have any clothes. They took blankets and never brought 'em back.... Oh, no, don't tell them, they'll say: Why didn't she tell us?...   
I'm keeping you for nothing. I don't go anywhere, so I've nowt to say. I like to be with you. I feel as tho I'm with you.... (Weather:) It's a bit more bearable but only just. I think islands are cold.... Well, I shall have to let you go and do what you like.... (The heater:) I think it's on but you can't tell. I was supposed to be here to keep me warm, but it's just as cold as it can be.   
If you were really desperate, you would do something about it. It's never happened to anyone else....

(I try to say that I'm trying.)

Well, forget about it, then. I just think I'm a dead loss. Nobody bothers about you in government, not me, anyway....   
The cold is just bearable, if you can stick it.... I can't get to me house. It's all right, you having it, I bought it because I thought it would be easy to get in there to live. Funny isn't it? Why! It isn't funny. Spend your life doing it and you aren't in it. And why, I do not know. Don't you often wonder why I'm not there?...   
Somebody stopping us. They don't like me and don't like you? It's like revenge. I don't know what it is – it's a rum going on. We didn't have things as bad as that, years ago. And whoever does it, it's me that they harm the most. Which is ironic, because it's me that made it possible for them to be there....

[It's just a war game, of adversary politics, to social services. They are unspeakable.]

No one came to see me...

I came...

You came, it was wonderful. Anyway, I do love you so much. I'll love you and leave you. You will ring again? Bye-bye.

* * *
30 May.

(I said I'd been working all day. Ella was very caring and concerned that I not make myself poorly. When I said I hadn't been out, Ella rejoined:) I haven't been out since I came here. Life's changed so much I don't recognise myself. [That's why dementia patients should stay home.] It was just plain sailing before....   
You sound a bit weary. (I admit I've been at it.) Why, you're crackers! Why are you doing that? What do you think we worked so hard for? You reckon you're doing it for me... You just worry me. There's no need for it. My little Dino. I love my little Dino. I don't like him poorly, doing things for me. I love you. Remember that, and remember what I said: No need for all that going-on for nowt. Keep active; nowt desperate, for me.

I had a little nap. That's why I'm late.

I never know the time of day it is, from one day to another. Nothing. Days gone by, we did all sorts of things.

I'm here as long as you want me.

Hello my little darling. Hello Dolly.

I sing: Hello Dolly, this is Dickie, Dolly, et cetera.

Well done, Dino. You remember it, Dino.

I am your Dino. (When she asks where the name came from, she recalls when I tell her: Oh, that's it...)

I've never known anything like this. You can't call it a life. I just look on it as some sort of fantasy.... I love you. As long as you keep loving. It's like loving fresh air, in a way, as I never sees him. A funny old life. I don't think about it.

(I ask if she wants another song. She laughs. I sing a snatch of: With a little help from my friends.)

I like that. It's a sweet little song. Very nice.... It's very cold for Britain. When summers were wet, we used to grumble. You couldn't get the corn in. The world is changing, and we have no control. We are nothing. (She mutter something about being like fleas.) Like in the Stone Age. It reminds me when I was younger, on farms. I didn't know the time, because there was nowt.... I don't know how I got to be in such a position. I tried to make things better. All I have done is gone back to t' Stone Age, I think....   
Hello, it's me, talking to my little Dino, I am.... I don't have any relatives now. You'd think there'd be some offspring – but they're Gordons, aren't they? I remember, he had quite a few....   
Gordon, he's not living now. He had a kind of up-and-down life. Well, he was in the army, you see. He did very well in the army, as career goes. It isn't as easy as you think. Too many bosses over you. If everybody did as he did, they'd be doing very well.... It's very chilly, isn't it? Britain isn't half a cawd spot. I've got me arm out, and one arm's cold. (The sound is poor:) Shall we give it a rest?

* * *
31 May.

I'm cawd and miserable. It's the same every day. I don't have a wireless or tv. I have nothing. – No, I don't want to stir anything up for myself. Are you all right, Dino? Don't worry about it, Dino.   
How are you doing? (Not so bad...) Good lad. Are you on t' north side? I don't know where I am. In the bedroom, same old wall. I can't tell you much, because I'm still in this bedroom. Nowt to say. It gets a bit chilly. I don't bother them. Never have done, with the heater....

I'm just doing the same old thing. I'm making some progress.

I'm glad you are. I'm not making any progress.

I admit it will take a long time.

Don't mention it. I don't want to hear about it. Time is everything to an old person. I never think anyone to blame for anything. Forget about it. It's cold dry, sunny all day. Hello Dolly.

I won't sing that again. But I can sing something else: You don't have to say you love me...

You're a good little singer. I enjoyed that...I'm rubbish...

No, you're not. You're a good singer.

When I used to sing with the twelve wonders. The Whitby gate-crashers. I bet they were sick of us. I wonder if they've still got the shield up [for three-times winning the schools competitions, given back to the panel.] Are you there, my little ducky? Quack, quack. I like the geese. Mama Goose had the little geese all lined up. They turned when she turned. A natural thing, isn't it? Following Mammy to keep safe. If anything went near, she went for them. Really did. It was funny. Almost like a human.

(In quarantine, not ordering deliveries for maybe ten weeks. To eat with flour, I've lots of spices, you were going to cook with.)

I'm glad you're using them before they go off.... We did plenty of work and thinking and doing. But nothing for ourselves for life.... Ooh, my leg's stiff. It's cold, you know. ("Tablets, Ella." Staff goes in and out.) Hello Dolly. Aye, well, Dino. I've no news to give you, because I haven't got any news. I love my little Dino. That's all I can say, because I don't have nowt else...

If you're accidentally cut off, I love you.

Well, love to you, Richard. You will ring, won't you? God bless you. I love you, and take care, love. Bye-bye.

* * *

#### 1 June.

Table of Contents

I wish that I had a family, so that we wouldn't be on our own.

You've just found that out, Dino, have you? It would just be the same. They'd have their own families, boyfriends and girlfriends. You're a bigger age than them, so you can't settle-in for life. There are thousands of others, besides you. You think you're the only one. What about me? I'm on my own, stuck by myself.... I can't remember a day or half a day, when I was sitting in the sun. I've been working....  
I'm here, there's nothing, like a little mouse in a corner, squeaking....  
When [Dads nephew] was here, he'd never seen the sea like that...

(Staff enters:) Hello, darling. Have you brought a drink of tea?

Has she gone already?

Yes, she's left me, and left me some sponge cake and biscuits, I don't like.... Can you ring back, later? I want to drink this tea, before it gets cold...

(Calling back:) How are you?

What can I say? I'll ask the room with four walls, if you like. They don't answer me, tho. How are you doing? No answer.... What did we do wrong?

I keep doing things. There's always something useful to do.

Nobody is forced to do anything. A lot don't even think, just live (she laughs).

I love you.

What brought that on? Oh, that's a nice Dino. I hope so. Somebody loves me. What happened to Dad? He died, didn't he?... Does he come to see you?

No. He died, quite a while ago.

I've put the phone on my right ear, now. It's a bit easier for me to hold.... Is it a town, where you are? I never go out of here, now – since you (last) came. Amazing how I do it, really: get mi'sen trapped. I'm an artist at it. Everything does itself...   
What sort of a home is it? Has it three bedrooms?

Yes, about that.

Where is it?

At the north end of town.

Is it a good end?

Yes, it's peaceful.

I don't know the number if I wanted to come, I wouldn't know where to come. I should know where that is.... Nice place, better than this old bedroom.

If you can't come, I can arrange for you to come (when I'm allowed).

I'm not going to think about it. Swiped it out of my mind, because things, I think about, never come....

What date is it?

First of June.

By gum, it's like Christmas....  
Oh yeah, I never lived in it (my home). I can't remember if I did.

You did.

I think I had to do, but I can't remember it.... When you can't live in the place, I don't want to know how good it is. It's bad for you, bad for your health, there's nothing worse....   
It's cold in here. The heat's on, I think, but it's cold.... I feel like a mouse trapped in its little den....

(I'm trying to get you out, but things move too slowly.)

Don't worry about it. You will be too late... I get cold, because I'm shut up in this room.... Are they big rooms in the house? How many is there?

I couldn't tell you, off-hand [and I live there!]

I'm not going to think about anything, because nothing comes of it.

I'm happy, if we are together at home.

(About being brought home:) I don't think about it. I can get myself there in an aeroplane, if I wanted, or a parachute.... I'm not doing anything. Only talking to you. I'd get lost, if I went out of this door.

I want to look after you.

Good things never happen to me. I can be almost certain of it – I'll not say, altogether. So I don't even think about it, or hope for it, or expect it, or anything. I think it's just a fantasy.... (Isn't it miserable cold?)... Oh, blooming heck. Don't mention that. It makes me seethe.   
I'm glad others get pleasure of it (my home). You certainly wouldn't have had it, if I'd known I wasn't going to live in it.... Oh, you lucky so-and-so.   
I've got a stove here, that comes and goes, and it's still chilly, at the moment.... I'm just pleased it's going well and running well. But it makes me think why I'm not there. Anyway, I'm here. I've never spoken to anyone since you.

(Same here.)

But you can't (do things), here. If you can do what you want, it's better.

Well, do you want to stay where you are?

You must be joking. I don't want to. I have to do. Why are they doing it? They think you aren't capable of looking after me?

Yes, that's essentially it. [Or that's their over-bearing excuse, more like.]

Nobody looks after me, here.

(I'm trying to get you away.)

Don't stir things up. (I'm too old to have that come back on me.)

I'm going thru the proper channels....

All right, I've got it, then. Don't go on. I'll not think about it.... Whose little Dino are you?

I'm Dinos little Dino.

Oh, you know who you are, then? Are you a good little Dino? I did the best I could, under the circumstances, to bring you up....   
I still think about that bumpy stony road, going down on my bike. I knew every little spot, that was really bad, to miss it. I would ride down in the semi-dark. Then I started to walk, because it ruins me tyres.   
The farm, it'll be there for many years to come. It was the oldest farm on the estate. Did you know that? (Yes.) Grandad bought it, didn't he? He shouldn't have parted with it...   
I've brung him (me) up to know right and wrong. It's funny.... Children are better with their parents, when growing up... You are lucky, by gum. I've always wanted to live there. That's why I bought it. It's a good house. It wants to go to Richard. You have to go to Richard.

Yes, I'm Richard.

Yes, to Richard.... (It's my heart's best buy....) The story of my life [not being there].... I've always been a small person [doing] bread-and-butter [things]. I wanted to live in it, you know. I'm not bothered now, because I'm too old.

It's my responsibility to look after you – I've not been able to do anything for you, because they've kept you in that care home.

Well done, Dino. Oh, I love you. I love my little Dino.

(With the central heating, in winter, your bedroom was like a mild summers day. I got double glazing in the dining room bay window and door, so you could live on the sunny south side of the house.)

Is it a lot better? Can you tell the difference?

(Oh yes, you could live there, now.)

(... Amazing difference... Money well spent...) You have to have your money back, if you want to sell.... I'm just telling you the rules. I'm not telling you to do anything.

(I was aware of it.)

Ah, goody-goody. It's amazing how kids can forget everything. It's gone cawd, so it's maybe gone off. Have you got central heating? [Ella is doing a memory check, with this question.] It would be better, now. I'm freezing in here. I don't know why. The fire must've gone off....   
Are you here, Dino? (No.)... Is it all right (where you are)? Have you got a flat? Are you renting it?...

I'm in your home.

Oh it's that, is it? You can't go in there, it's private (she jokes). I was looking forward to be living in that. You'd never have had it.... Well, you're all mine. You're all I've got.

It's the same for me.

It's the same, different way round.

We've been on the phone a long time, now.

My best loved child... bye-bye, darling, bye-bye....

* * *
2 June.

I'm at the club, in the big room. You haven't picked a very good time. They're all chattering away.

I worry about you, Mum.

No, I'm all right. I miss you very much. Apart from that, I'm all right. I'm in the ladies reading room. There is hardly anybody here. It's very quiet. How are you? I wish I was near to you. I think it would be nice if we were together. Never mind, you take care of yourself. Only a few people are here, only us. They're going to collect me and take me back to my flat, you know. I'm sat in the room, you've been in. Nobody but me, all staff. Ah well, I miss you, you know. It's nice to hear from you. (Ella may have said she thought she'd lost me.)

I love her and have lost her.

You're always close to me even tho you're not here. I think as tho you're ready to come and see me, ring me up, whatever. [That's just about the nicest thing I've had said to me.]

(Mum still feels the cold, in early summer.)

It goes before it comes.... God help us, the government won't.

All right Love, I love you very much and hope you're comfortable and all right. Take care of yourself and bless you. I love you, Dino, more than I can ever say on this thing. I won't keep you. I thought you were maybe busy.

I'm never too busy for you.

I love you so much, darling. I really do. And I've nowt to tell you. The news isn't good. It's very gloomy. I've never known Britain so unstable with things as they have been this last year or so. Very sad.

Anyway, I've got someone sat next to me. She's sort of keeping me company.

I'm glad you've got some company.

(She said it was't so much that, but... We tell about our love for each other and I promised to ring tomorrow, all being well.)

* * *
3 June.

I'm in that club. They haven't come to get me yet... I'm thinking about you, and loving you, and hoping you're all right.... It's warm here and cosy. I think I'll be staying the night here.... Only a few people here... As long as you keep in touch with me and I keep in touch with you, so we know we are both all right.... I'm with another lady, to keep me company. I'm talking to her now.

I'm glad you've got company.... I worry about you.

Oh, don't worry, Dino. I love you and I think about you all the time. I visualise you in my mind, and I love you.... I won't keep you....

(I asked if she didn't want me to put off her company.)

It is in a way... Tho I don't think she minds.

(I tell again how much I love her.)

I'm glad, I'm a lucky mother to have such a loving son...

* * *
4 June.

Ella deplores: when you have nothing to do, when you have nobody to talk to... Well, darling, nice to hear from you. I'm at the big house, you've been here (the lounge). Winnie's here today, because she has relatives nearby....[Ella has found another former friends name to fit a second resident of the care home. Her mind is mending by grafting surviving memories onto her new situation.]

(I assure Mum that I am comfortable and grateful to be in her home.)

Good job I bought the house. It just felt right. It was wonderful. So, I'm pleased I got it.

But not as wonderful as you.

Nice to think you love me. I love you. I loved you since you were a little babby.... There aren't many people here, just odd ones. It used to be a treat to go to a late night out, going to the pub. It isn't any more.... (In local twang, Ella asks:) Dis the' love me?

I love you... I always have jobs to do.

There always is something to do if you've got a house.... People have got it all going for themselves at home. A lot of people have a room special for themselves (recreational rooms).

I'll always look forward to seeing you, Mum.

Never mind, as long as you're healthy and you can occupy yourself, you know how to do it, don't you?... I don't want to bother you...

You aren't a bother to me.

...All right, I'll leave you for the moment. A lady is talking to me. And I don't want to leave her too long.... She doesn't often come here, so I'd better attend to her.... Times were very good. We just took it for granted.... God bless you....

* * *
5 June.

I was wondering if you knew where I was. I'm only here, because they're away, Albert (husband, passed away),.. I stayed the night, last night, and I might stay the night, tonight...

There'll always be a place for you in my heart.

That's exactly how I feel about you, so now you know. Saves me telling you the same thing. I'm talking to Win (friend, passed away), so I've a bit of company, until she goes with her husband.   
She might not be here, tomorrow night, so maybe we can talk then?

No visitors are allowed because of the infection.

Then I'll be stuck on my own. Is it bad?...7 That's sad. It's a bad job. I don't like that. Nobody does.... I may be better here. At least, it's warm and there's food. And I have nowhere else to go.

You could be at your home, with me, but I have to get permission.

I love you darling, I really do. I like hearing from you, its next best thing (to your being here). God bless you, darling.... How are you?

I'm all right but I worry about you. You're getting on now...

Yes I am... I couldn't do all the house work and shopping,... on my own.

You wouldn't be on your own. You'd be with me. [God willing, social services aren't.]

I wish things were different, don't you? The world is upside down. You can't walk about. It isn't safe, is it?... Not many people are in here yet... I'll let you go.

I don't want you to lose your company.

(Many endearances.)

* * *
6 June.

I'm just going to put my jumper on, love. It's cold. I'll just get into t' bed again. Terrible. Oh, it's horrible.

(I attempted to apologise.)

Oh, never mind that. I don't want to know all that. It's pretty miserable. It's not very nice, because I've nobody to talk to. I don't like it. I don't feel happy at all. I would be better, if I was with you.

(As ever, I try to explain that social services won't let me bring her home, and/or that the pandemic prevents me visiting her.)

Don't talk about it. It makes me sick. I hate these sort of things. Pretending it'll come. It's nothing. It doesn't mean anything. It's annoying, that's all it is. What's the good of repeating it? Living on false hopes won't do anything for anybody.... How's Dino, how are you keeping? I miss you so much.

I miss you, too.

My ears are cold.

Can't you keep warm?

You're joking. Even with the heater, it still isn't warm. I do miss you, and I never have anyone to talk to, nobody. Them that stop and talk, they just stop and see if you're still there. If not, somebody's gotten her, finished!

None of us are really safe.

I know that (laughs). We pretend we're safe. Am I to stay here?

I'm afraid so.

I thought so. I don't know, I've just you to ring up. I still love you. I'm keeping an eye on you.

I hope so.

I've been doing that a bit, haven't I?... We don't have a single relative in contact with us, have we?

I sometimes get an e-mail.

(Aside:) Shut the door, please.... Somebody opened the door, there. I'll go and shut it. They always leave the door open, and I can't trust them to shut it.

I don't want you there, Mum. (Don't think it.)

I don't want to be here. I can't understand how it's always messed up for me. I do my best to put things right, but they're never right....

I'm sorry, Mum.

Don't bother to be sorry. (It doesn't help.)... What can I say? Oh, nothing. I just love you to bits, and I can't help it, what's happened to me. I did my best, and that's nothing I could do.

(Same here.) Why I can't come is the disease.

I know that. It's as cawd as winter. Very poor climate for the public. Anyway, I'm here, Dino. Are you all right? Is you a good lad? I think you are. My best lad.... I went to that place [of] recreation... Never mind, it's nothing, anyway. I's here, Dino. I'm here, your Mum. (I love you.) I know, I love my little Dino, as well. My little son, sunshine, my little lad... Have you heard from [my niece]?

She sent me an e-mail.

Well, you wanted to answer it.

I answered it. She didn't say much. She is retired now.

I know all about it... Have you got a big garden?

Yes, fairly big.

Are you living in it?

I've nowhere else to live in....

What kind of a house is it?

It's a semi-.

Oh, it'll be warmer, better, really. Too much weather on (the detached house). Where is it, in the West Riding?

No, it's (in town).

Is it a good 'un? Is it a good house?... (How about the neighbors?) – Oh, yeah, I'd forgotten about 'em.... All I've done is make but not take. That's my luck isn't it? Bad luck...Very cold tonight. Will you bring me an eiderdown?

Can you ask the staff for a blanket?

It wouldn't make any difference, just slightly. It's a cold miserable night. It would have been a waste of time – I should have been amazed. She was going somewhere and you could tell. I don't know what to do. I'm sort of wet cold, tonight. It's cold as can be. Oh, it's a terrible place to be, on your own. I don't know how to get out. Why I'm in this dump, I don't know. I don't know how to get out. It's very cold in here. It's horrible. You can't come, can you?

No, because of the infection.

My arms ache with the cold; horrible. Anyway, I just cover me arms up. I haven't got all me bedding. Nobody brings it. I keep saying....  
Is your house warm, it should be?

Yes. Can you cover yourself up, all right?

I've got this quilt, with a sheet, that's all, and it's as light as a bloody feather. It should be better for winter. [There was a cold northerly wind, this early June.] I don't know where to get it. Why can't I go?... (I remind Ella of the infection.) I's turned cold. I wonder why it's worse than it used to be, years ago. There's nobody here, and Richard hasn't been down. – The other Richard. I've got a nephew, haven't I?

I mentioned the quarantine again.

I know that. I don't like the thought of the thing. It's horrible. I don't have nothing. Not a wireless or a tv. Nothing, it's just like living in the early 20s or something. You're (in town), aren't you?

Till the day a die, I look forward to seeing you.

I know that... (On lifting the quarantine:) They daren't do too much, they're frightened of picking that up.... It'll be a poor season.

The weather is bad.

At the moment, but it can change. It's very cold. I have to pull the clothes up. Can't get any heat going. Where my husband is, I don't know. You won't see him, either?

No, Mum, he passed away.

When?

Over five years ago.

He died young, didn't he?

No, he wasn't young. He was 91, when he died.

That isn't really old, today. I'm an old fogey, then. How old are you?

I'm 71.

So, I'll be 90 odd, I suppose. (Yeah.) I don't care and I don't know. Hello...

I was left on my own, quite young, and I had to do everything. Awful, not very good. No relatives to help you. (No.) I think you should live close together. They don't all, but should do.... My head is real cold, so it's cold in here. They've maybe turned the heat off.

I'll maybe ask them. [I did, getting a promise to pass it on.]

Are you there? Oh, I don't know what to say, except I wish I was with you. But it's no good wishing. It's just pretend. (I feel the same.) It's a pretty miserable country now. (In every respect.) No, it isn't (good). Why, I don't know.... Hello, Hello Dolly...

(I sing the song again.)

Very good. You remember it, don't you? Very good. There's a good Dino.

It's a cold wind, straight off the North Sea.

What month is it?

June 6. D-Day.

God, I remember that. It was a big thing, you see. Fancy, a little country like this, getting geared up (for that).... It's a windy night, weather like back-end. I don't know what's happened to summer.

It doesn't rain.

I thought it was going to pour down, but it hasn't. I don't understand it. I think it's different, everywhere, myself. I think it is very unusual.... We used to keep the shop open, tho, didn't we? We kept open all days, all hours. Sometimes we would just be moving about, and someone would come in and buy something.

Hello Dickie toodle   
sat on a stool   
saying I am not such a fool.

I made that up. Can you make things up?

No, I can't make things up. Not just like that. Do you want me to sing something?

(All right, go on:)

(I sing:) You don't have to say you love me.

Lovely, very nice. Very good. How you remember it! It's an old one.

Yes, a 60s one.

You could record it. It's very nice. I like it.... Are you cold? – Awh, that's good. Amazing, isn't it?   
(Of our house:) I see, and buy it straight away.) I can't remember buying it now. – I'm not bothering. As long as you've got it, that's all that matters. I'm not one for fanciness. Tho, you have to have proof of things....   
It's windy, cold windy night... I can't sing. (She sings a nice phrase, and I tell her.) I used to sing with that Whitby thing, 12 of us. We did well, to win it three times. All of us, because we all contributed to the tone. They gave it back to 'em: Didn't keep the shield...   
I'll have to put the pillows up. It's cold. (Ella gave the name of our street:)

That's where I am.

Why! I bought that years ago.... Have you a holiday home?

No, building one was too expensive.

I know that. Going a yo-yo between two homes. I know people have had a lot of trouble – You needn't agree. I'm just telling you the facts, that's all.... I think we've lost our summer. Generally, I think we've lost it. Climate changes, you know....   
Hello, Mams Dino. A long time since we had the shop open, now.   
I think the nicest thing was when Aunty Peaky walked in. My mother catered for her; advertised and got her. I was just a young kid. (They came to the farm, funnily named after two owners:) I was years before I found out (the meaning of the name). It's still there, like a little lamb, never shifts.   
Well, young Dino, have you owt to tell me? Have you all clean and tidy? I don't know what to tell you, Dino, except I miss you so much.

(I know, I miss you, too.)

I've got the heater on, but it's rubbish. No power in it.... It doesn't matter, if I never see owt... I've got a scab on my knuckle. It never gets better. It's horrible.

I remember that.

You do? I've had it, ages.

(My voice stalls on attempting another Springfield number.)

A low-toned voice. I like that. She's been dead a long time now, hasn't she?... Somebody tried the door; gone now, I think. A good push, but it didn't open. I've knocked my knuckle. It's hard to get it better. It hurts.... It's always bad, Britains weather.   
Hello, me darling. You can always ring me up, any time, when you feel like it. It's nice. My dearest little lad used to scut about Dad, when you were a toddler, in the yard, seeing where Grandad was. You used to ride on the scooter, a thing you could handle and mess about with. I shall have to leave you, now. God bless you. I love you.

* * *
7 June.

I'm at the club. There's not many here, a few may come a bit later. It's not as busy as it used to be. There's more going on at home. They've got everything, now. All the stuff they need. Entertainment at home. They make a point of it... I was wondering how you were getting on. It's lovely to hear your voice. I worry when I don't see you.... Things stay the same old pace. All the troubles are still there.

I'm living on my own....

A lot of people die alone. I didn't see any of my parents die, because they were away.... Nothing happens...

I just do what has to be done....

I leave it to you, then. It all passes by, and is finished with. There's nothing to it. It's all passed away, without any help from me.

(I sing for Ella the chorus of MacArthur Park.)

Oh, it's all right, very refreshing. Awh, lovely... I'm waiting for Richard to collect me, take me back. I don't know where we live. Have you got somewhere to put me up, if I'm waylaid on the road?... I'm bad at talking, because nothing ever happens.... Most people are like we are. We aren't on our own, you know. It's lovely to know you're well, darling.... It's not fit to go out... Bit of a noise going on here.

I can't hear anything.

No, it's not much.... My hair's gone all straight... I think about you all the time. I can't go out. It's all shut off. Still got that nasty disease. It's terrible.... Have you anything new to tell me? No?   
I just like to hear you're all right. As long as I know you're all right, I'm happy. Maybe you will visit (if things get better)? It can't get any worse... I'll let you get on with what you're doing.

It's all right.... (I keep myself going.)

I kept myself going.... Some people don't bother...

There's no news on Saturday and Sunday.

I've worked both those days in the shop. It was tough. Anyway, it kept us.... Richard, I don't know what he's doing. I hope he hasn't gone without me. I'll have to stay the night... I can hardly hear you... I'll ring off now, because it's stopped... Bye-bye...

* * *
8 June.

(I tell Ella that I was taking pictures in the garden. It looks like a woodland now, if you don't look too much to either side. I've taken photos of the bluebells.

Ella liked the idea of a wood garden. Her childhood farm had a wood in a vale full of bluebells.)

I'm really grateful I've such a wonderful Mum.

You're a wonderful lad, son rather, sunshine...

Oh, you're my sunshine.

Thank you, that's nice to hear, Dino.... I'm here because... Dad..., I don't know who I'm with now. I'm going crackers. (She says with a rueful smiling voice.)... I'm trying to think who's missing. Have I got a brother or a sister?...

Don't worry about it, Mum....

How are you, Dino?

I'm fine.

I think about you all the time.

And I think about you all the time.

I'm here at the club, and a local woman sat here talking to me.... I'd better pack it in, because I must be annoying them. Ring me again. (In the background, a resident lets out a piercing wail.) Ooh, God!... They're coming in, piling in. It's cold, very chilly....Are you near to me?

I'm at your old house.

I'm pleased you're looking after it.... I'd better ring off. I don't want to annoy them. Ring again. Take care of yourself. Bye-bye.

[This message reminds me how shy farm-girl Ella is in company.]

* * *
9 June.

Richard's brought me up, to night, to the club top, and I'm talking to some of the local people...The news isn't very good. It never gets any better, does it?... God bless you, keep ringing me, everyday. It's a relief to hear you, love. We didn't know how good it was. It was better than we thought. I hope you're keeping well, and take care of yourself. I'm hoping we shall meet... I do miss you, my little sunshine. Ah, well, life has never been easy for us. It was better, prior to all this.

(I mentioned the problems of climate, the greenhouse effect and global warming. And over-population; too many people chasing too few resources.) And not only that. The government is more difficult.

It seems to me that it's like that. Anyway, I think about you. I don't see you, but I know you're there. I want (to see you again sometime). Have you any news?

This disease has slowed things up...

I understand, love. And ring me. I just like to hear your voice. God bless you. I'll let you go, my love.

I love you so much.

But not more than I love you. I'll let you go, now. Bye-bye, luvvy.

* * *
10 June.

(Responding to an endearment:)... Oh, that's lovely. I love you. We can't go very far, nowadays. Everything is blocked up. The whole world isn't (right). I don't try to think about it, now. It's been on that long.   
I'm at the club. I don't know why I'm here. I've been stopping the night.... As long as we are safe and sound. That's the main thing. I think about you and I love you best of all....   
Can you hear the crying on the phone? We've got a squealer. Oh, dear.... I stop the nights here. We can't go out. We're stuck....We're all right. We can get in touch, with the phone. You ring me. I love you so much. Thi's a good lad. Yeah...   
It's cold for the time of year....   
A few here at the club – with nowhere to go and nowhere to live. We've got some squealers. Can you hear that? (A long screech – of boredom and frustration.) Nothing's happened to me. Nothing exciting to tell you. Same old boring thing. Except I miss your company. It can't be helped. That's how it is.... Are you comfortable?

(I'm okay. It would be better if you were with me.)

Never mind, we'll get together, eventually. It isn't very good, with weather and diseases.... Are you in a house or flat or what?

I'm in your house.

I'd forgotten about it. I'm pleased you're using it. That's what it was bought for.

(It would be twice as nice if you were here.)

Yeah, it would. Never mind... We might get that chance again. You never know. Things can happen quickly, can't they?... Is it a nice little semi? It's in pretty good order, isn't it? I made sure of that, when I bought it. [The last three sentences show that Ella can recall the house, at times.]

(Are you wanting to be off?)

I'm all right. I just thought I was keeping you from something else...

(I encourage Mum to stay on the phone.)

I haven't got much news. I just wanted to know you're all right, and send me your best love. I've no news for you, except I love you. I won't keep you on the phone to make expense. I'd rather you ring often then ring long.

I love you very much. (Mutual affection.)

* * *
11 June.

I'm sat here watching the tv. I'm looking at the telly instead of thinking. There isn't a lot of people watching. They've got everything at home. I'm thinking about you all the time. As long as you're happy and occupied.... Don't over-do yourself, because it can bring you down, in the end. If you have no-one to look after you, you have to keep yourself healthy. Where are you?...

I know where it is. Yeah. I think about you. I wish it was like it used to be. We were lucky.... It's awful now, isn't it?... Nobody seems to go out, not of my age. I stay the night.... There's 5 or 6. They don't talk much about anything. They just come and sit.... I was wondering how you were doing....

I think someone was talking, then. I'm in the middle of them. They can hear all what you say. Not very nice. It's very poor. Nobody stays. Everyone is at home, it's better than here.... I'm glad to hear from you. I really am.... I was pleased.

I'm watching tv. But the reception is awful, but they still watch it. It's pretty grim, and small as well. Like as tho they never advanced.... It looks like rain. It's as dark as Bellos. (It's started.) People have said it for years. I don't know what it is....

I hope you're happy, in that little house. It isn't really little tho, is it?... I saw this poster on this house. I thought it was a ridiculous price.... I'll ring off, because I'm among a crowd.... I do want to talk, but you can't among these folks, because they're all sat around.

You tell me what you want...

It's raining here now. What are you doing? You come to see me sometimes. Are you in the same building?... (No.)... I'm too old to read numbers and ring up. I'd much rather you rang. I'm past it. I've done a lot of it, in my time.... I go to my room, little bedroom. I'm too old to remember the numbers and how to ring. I'm relying on you for contact.

It's all right, I'll keep ringing.

I just worry about you, my love, that's all.... Anyway, they've (the crowd's) gone, thank God. It's very dark here, it's going to pour down. Not a bit like summer, now. It's like back-end.... Why aye, man! They still say that, you know. That's the code.... What have you been doing?

Clearing out the garage, to turn into a granny flat.

Good grief. (Ella warns against getting renters, you don't like:) You remember it, from me, with love.... A few are in the club, but you don't know them, and you don't talk to people you don't know.

(I remind Ella that I want her home, but social services won't allow it.)

Why?

Because government is bossy...

Don't worry, darling. You have to do without. We have to make the best of things. It would be more work, if I was with you.

I'd be glad of that, for your company.

I would yours, an' all, not half, to have somebody that is close, related to you, it would be nice.... Oh, I like John, and that, but you can't expect them to ring, it's too expensive.... The phone, it fades.

It's me, moving the phone about.

(Ella says it's her.) I'm pleased you rang me up. I was thinking about you, all afternoon and night. He'll be ringing. I was pleased, I just worry about you. Where's Dino, is he all right? Bless you, my little love. What are you doing, reading? Is the house all right, or is it a flat?

It's your house.

Oh, I know which it is. I didn't know you'd kept it. It's perfect, isn't it? Not too flashy... Just ordinary, right. Are the same people next door?... I'm pleased about that. They're all right. I won't make a big expense with the phone. God bless you, love.

* * *
12 June.

I'm not so bad, love, thank you. I keep my mind on you. I worry about you, I hope you're well, and I miss you.

(And I worry about you, and miss you, too.)

The news is not very good. The weather is bad, cold and foggy. Are you in town?

I'm on the out-skirts.

You know where I am, don't you?

Yes, Mum... I would have you with me.

It can't be helped. As long as we've got each other, I suppose I should be thankful for that... I'm stuck at this club....

I would have you back home with me.

They won't let me, will they?

No, social services won't let you come home.

Don't worry, darling. As long as I've got some food, and its warm in this room... I love you so much. It's so difficult, everything is so difficult. Britain seems to be in a muddle. We used to think it was bad, but it wasn't, really.... Can you hear chattering?

Yes...

There's not a lot there... Is it all right where you are?... Oh, that's lovely. Life's awful if you haven't a proper place to be... You don't always come now, do you?

The quarantine...

I know, I keep forgetting. It's not very good.... Are you getting enough to eat?

(I only just managed to make an order, that wouldn't come for another three weeks. There's such a rush for food...)

(Ella realises people are hoarding:) You'll have to be aware of that. It could get worse. Rationing, I know what that's like (rueful laugh).

How are you, Mum?

Yeah, I'm not so bad, really. I'm sort of living here, in this place....

Don't worry, Mum. I know where you are.

Oh, good, I like you to know where I am. What day is it? I get lost. No calendars. I've never seen one. You have to ask somebody.... I don't know what to say, except I love you. (The same to Mum.) My little Dino, I miss you. At least we've been in touch. That's something. Yeah, everything for us. It's bad weather...

It's worse than May.

It's sort of lonely for us as a family. No Gordon, no Lawrence (brothers), Mum and Dad. You're my nearest and dearest relative.

I think your mother was the most important to you.

I love you, my little son. I do really love you. Pity we can't meet. It's the same for everybody, tho, isn't it? It's not wise to do so.... Am I keeping you, love?

(No, you can talk as long as you like.)

Who do you talk to?...

(Nobody much. I can't match a face to the staff names, who give you the phone.)

They know you, tho; call you Richard.... Well, I won't keep you on t' phone forever. Well, ring me again, won't you? People sitting near me might be annoyed.

I love you very much.

I love you, too, you little scampy. No, you weren't really. You were very quiet. (A loving goodbye.)

* * *
13 June.

I forgot, all at once, what I was going to say. It's gone...

(Mum probably asked had I been talking to anyone. – I forget!) I don't think anybody has, really. Just those one knows all your lives. You never know what you're going to get!...

(Ella asks where I am now.) I'm at your house.

Oh blimey! I know about that. I knew you still had it, and take care of it. It's a good home is that. It's a nice place, and was... perfect, really. I'm pleased about that.... (Ella asks what have I been doing, and I repeat about my chores, today:) Don't go on about that again, it's too boring. I don't like cleaning drives. I've done it, so often. I've done it, everywhere we've lived, because (otherwise) they do look rubbishy, don't they?

(As for thinking of other things to say:) My mind is a blank.

Mine's blank all the time. Not completely blank, tho. Don't worry about that.... Why am I staying here? I don't know where my living accommodation was. And I don't know where I was before I came to the club. You'll know, but I don't. It's left me....

[Perhaps someone doesn't want her to know, because, at this point, Ella is distracted, authoritatively, by a womans sustained address. Maybe, staff is saying that the care home is Ellas home -- I've heard it said, before. \-- Maybe not... I lose contact with Ella, but keep repeating hellos, to be answered by a few random noises in the lounge. Eventually, Ella responds:] I'm sorry I left you. I thought you had rung off. Have you aught to tell me?

(I bring Ella back to the question she asked, before she was interrupted:) You'd forgotten where you were.

(She gives her address, before last, in a questioning voice.)

That was the shop. Then, we retired.

Yeah, we did, didn't we? Dad was there. Dad died at 90?

Yes, he was 91, when he died.

I thought he would have lived another 10 years.

Yes, he maybe would, but for his war injury.

Yeah, that's all right. We miss him. He was always there to help you. Anyway, I've got little Dino. I was thrilled with you, when you were little. Grandad liked you running after him. But he always had plenty to do. And not much time. [I well remember.]... I knew where we went but...[at any rate, it was some idea of the place].

You are a wonderful mother. I love you with all my heart.

I do like to hear that. Bless you. A few more are coming, and crowding me out. I don't know what to say, except I love you. The news is terrible.... Where do you live now, is it a flat?

It's a semi.

Your'e better among a few folks, in case of accidents. I used to be stuck on my own (on the farm). A few people in the pub. It's getting crowded round here. Anyway, I think about you, and don't know what to say, except I love you. Have you any news?

Things are getting slightly better. But they won't have to relax (distancing) too much, lest they start off the infection again.... When I said about clearing the drive, that was where you were.

I knew that well enough. Yes, I did, I'd forgotten. It's familiar, now you said it.... I should know, but I don't know how old I am, or anything. (Ella hazards 99?)

You will be 95 next month.

(Sounding a little relieved:) Oh, I thought I might be older.... As long as I've got my little Dino. That's wonderful, to have somebody like that, because I don't have anybody living, do I? No (brothers and parents). As long as I've got my Dino, I can tell you on the phone: I love you. I can't see you or meet you. But that'll have to come. I won't keep you, and don't forget me.

I won't...

I don't forget you. I think about you, all the time. You ring me, (I've no phone number.) I won't keep you. (Ella makes passing mention of people coming round.) God bless you, darling. And I love you, you're my little lad. Bye-bye.

* * *
14 June.

(Wide-spread background laughter.)

(I had been cleaning the drive, and the neighbor gave me some tomato plants. Mum asked me why I didn't leave the planting, instead of doing everything, at once.) Sometimes I did all at once if there were not too many plants. Or I plant so many, and then dig a little, out of the way, where people can't see it, and put the remaining plants there, for the time being.... You have to keep out of the way of the infection. Don't go shopping.

Distancing is being relaxed but I still don't go out.

I don't blame you. I don't go about town, at all. (Ella seems to have forgotten that she is locked in the care home. After a brief exchange, I venture to say:) I thought you didn't want to be in the care home.

It's not a matter of what I want.... I know it's right. [That sounds like the words of authority.] It's being warm and cosy. And I get plenty to eat and there's company, and it's safe.

[This judgment is at odds with Ellas previous, and later, comments on the care home. As to safety, care homes, from runaway infections, already had 15,000 covid-related deaths, and what? two or three times that, later?]

It's as good as having a carer, any day.

I thought you wanted to live with me.

Yes, I did, and I still do. I can't see whether it'll work out or not. I want to be with you. I wouldn't get as much on (with a carer). Couldn't you always be here?

I'm not allowed to be there, and wouldn't want to live in that creepy place...

I'd still rather be with you.

Up till now, you've always wanted to be with me.

(At some point, Ella says:) I don't want to do housework.

(You would'nt. The live-in carer would be part house-keeper.)

I don't mind giving it a try.

You could...

I don't know the risk. It isn't as if it was just you. But a woman....

Mum, this is a bit sudden, to change your mind. Up to now, you've always wanted to come home with me.

I haven't changed my mind at all. I just don't want any risks. And people can be funny, when looking after you.... I've forgotten (things) now. I'm getting on... I leave it to you, to do what you think is best. You know all the ins and outs, and I make mistakes.

Mum, I have to have your consent (to come and live with me).

I want to be with you. As long as you're always with me. I didn't know you meant that. I thought you meant on my own. Oh, that's all right. I want to be with you. I want to be with you, and have you take care of me. That'll be all right. But you could get a real devil (for a live-in carer). I want you there, because I couldn't handle a funny house-keeper. I don't want that.

I would be there.

What if we were poorly?

That's why we'd have a live-in carer.

You can get some queer 'uns.

I know it can be difficult.

I just want to be with you. I wouldn't leave here, to move with someone else. As long as I've got you. I wouldn't like to be alone with a live-in carer, because they can be boss.

I know it's difficult.

I don't want to be isolated...

I would be living with you, every day, in our house.

(Do you mean the house I bought?...) Well, that's all right, then. As long as I have you, all the time, but not half and half. You can get somebody that won't be right. I know, I've lived. (We've said:) I'm glad to get rid of her. We had it with paying guests. It can be hell. As long as you can get rid of them.

I'd arrange a contract so you can give notice.

You'd have to do that.... It would be expensive, wouldn't it?

Yes, very expensive... (That's why I'm preparing for holiday letting. Ella is also distrustful of that option.)

It's a bit tiring. It's not happening now, is it?

No (there's lots of problems, in the way).

Oh well, it's nice to hear from you. You can't take it in... (Ella wanted to know why a live-in carer.)

They have to be on call, all the time.

I don't know about that.... We'll have another talk about it. (I don't want to annoy people round about. We have an affectionate goodbye.)

[Regretably, Ellas fears are justified, tho, it is fair to say, prospective carers may feel the same way about us.]

* * *
15 June.

I'm sitting here in a chair, waiting to go to bed. You have to go, by a certain time. (Mum wonders why I do things I don't have to.)

I was amazed how hard you worked.

We would have been in bad streets, if I hadn't. I was forced to.... Never mind. It doesn't matter. Never mind work. I'm sitting here with the guests, and all waiting to go to bed, and then, you have to go.... It feels like an age. Yeah, it does. It's cold and miserable. It's absolutely cold in this room. No heat is on. Can't afford 'em, I don't think....   
How is Dino? Have you got a house to live in?... I bought it (as an investment). Money is hard to get hold of, and it dwindles away. It takes a lot of your life. It's the first thing you have to do.... There's quite a lot of people waiting to go to bed.... How are you?

I'm fine, Mum.

I'm glad... I can't stand it, all night, from 6 o'clock. I always hated it.... Dad was young when he died?

He was 91.

I didn't think he was as old as that. I'm glad you told me, I hadn't a clue. I leave it to you, to tell me what age I am. I do love to hear from you. You're my precious little son. Something tells me you might like me, a little bit. I can always tell, can't you? (Ella asks about the neighbors.) It's cold, isn't it, for June? They never have any heat on, in these places; can't afford 'em. Takes all their money....   
What's news? I haven't been listening to it.

No, I haven't. I think they are just filling up the time.

They have to fill it up, somehow. That's the only way there is: to talk.... They won't let us out, I don't think. That's what I was told. It is, really: You aren't boss of your life.... It isn't freedom, really. It's like communism. If that's the only way, it isn't very clever....   
They're putting them to bed, the ones can't walk.... It's cold, isn't it?

It's been dull here all day.

....A dozen or so are in here, now. They're hanging on, a bit... It's a funny world, isn't it? What's keeping us, in here, for, I don't know. What's the reason? Keeping you safe, I suppose. I don't really want to know. I don't want to be bothered with it....

Es the' gain' to bed? Es the' been oot, nooh? (People don't know what you're talking about.)... I go to that bedroom. It's cawd, and nobody to talk to. You're on your own. Nothing is mine, and I don't want it, either. I can't sleep, and you wonder what to think about (and don't want to think).

(Ella sometimes asks me what I'd been doing, and she wonders why I'm kept so busy.) There's a lot of clutter.

Too much furniture? Why don't you sell it?

I did, but it didn't fetch much. People don't seem to want furniture, nowadays.

No, I don't think they do. You have to have a bed, table and chairs, for comfort, tho. You can't just stand, in a bare room.

There's a lot of stamps, to sort out, but I don't know if I'll ever get to them.

You want to sell them. They'll get stolen, if you keep them a long time.

I did sell some. The stamps sold better.

They're an investment.

It'll soon be the summer solstice, the longest day. When you look over the field, of the golf course, the north's light, till nearly midnight.

Of course, I remember, now. I bought it, because it was near the golf course. Do the neighbors play golf?

No, they are entertained by a deaf white dog. When he's tired of waiting, he barks. It means he wants to be off. Dogs need a lot of attention.

It's true of all animals, really.

It's true of human relationships, as well.

Awh, it is, you get what you give. If you give nowt, you get nowt. Oh well, I miss you. I used to like you being around, and talking (at home).

It may come again. (There is the infection, to be over with, yet.)

I hope it'll all clear up, when the nice weather comes.

Summer could be over, before it starts.

The illness comes now and again... Anyway, here we are, talking.

I'm fairly cheerful and hopeful.

I like that. It's a misery, if someone is poorly. It is for the mother, and more so for the poorly one.... I thought you'd gone a walking, Mary Jane. You haven't sung to me, lately. (Ella didn't fancy the Searchers biggest hit. She squawked: Needles And Pins. I sang a snatch of: Don't Throw Your Love Away. Ella sang this title line, in tune, and then left me to it.) You have a nice tune. It was good. Short and sweet, and well done.

Thank you.

Yeah... Well Dino, I'll let you go, because you'll be getting bored with me. We'll pack it in, because they're all talking. We can talk better, when they aren't there. But they are... (We were affectionate, and in rapport of good-humored friendship.)

* * *
16 June.

I'm waiting here. Nothing doing.

I've been too busy to think. When I get tired, I take a long rest.

You must ration it properly. (Not go to extremes.) Remember that. It doesn't pay.

I listen to your wisdom and take notice.

(Ella keeps thinking I'm there. The weather is the same, where we are, contributing to the impression.)

I'm at your house.

Awh well, that's a nice place to be. Where I've always wanted to be, for you and me.... Why! I do, I live here now. I've been here for weeks. Don't forget where I am. You're all I think about. Are you all right? Don't forget me. (No...) I know you won't. I hope not. You won't lose me? How do I get in contact with you?... They don't stop here. No, there's hardly anybody. If you ring everyday... I love you so much.

I love you, too.

I wish things would get brighter. I don't know. There's always a cloud over Britain. (Going back to where I live:) Oh well, that's home. I've never spent any time there (or not much)....

The government, social services won't let you come home.

It's mean, isn't it?

It is mean.

I don't want to keep you, if you're busy or you want to rest.... I love you, darling.

I've finished my work, now. You are my rest.

There's nothing here but a few gabbing women, not talking to me.

Don't you have Audrey and Pat for company?

(They aren't much there.) If I left here, and came to you, I don't know how it'll work out.

There would be new challenges.

You have to know all about it. Forget about it, for now. Surely things will change... You should be as free as a bird, shouldn't you?... What are you doing?

There's no point in talking about things not finished.

(Ella agrees.) I can't tell you anything. I'm just in this room, and kids screaming. [Frustrated residents.] No, it's not like we planned. I got the house, and that's it. It hasn't done a bit of good, for being together. I wish I was with you.   
I'm stuck up in this room. The nights are long, and I'm stuck by myself in that bedroom.... I'm pleased you're happy. Well, there's nothing here, just gabbing and talking. [The staff?] Anyway, ring me tomorrow. God bless you, darling. Bye-bye.

* * *
17 June.

I've been thinking about you. It's lonely, not having you coming. It's awful. We could have spent a lot of time together.

Yes, we could.

Another dull day, no sunshine. It just goes on and on.... I'm at the club. Where are you? You aren't here, are you? (No.) But you aren't, or you would come here, if you were. Yeah. Nowt ever happens. It's better that way: quiet. I'm thinking about you. If you ring me, it's easier that way. I don't do numbers very well. I think about you, and love you very much.   
I wish things would get better. It was a better world, previous to all this. We didn't know it, but it was.... Are you still in the house, I bought you? It's a little semi, isn't it? It's quite old, isn't it?

It's a Thirties house.

When it's 30s or 20s, it's got age, nowadays. I'm pleased I bought it. Are you comfortable in it? I was thinking about you.

(Strange laughing warble in background.) Can you hear that sort of a noise? It's not a cockerel.

It's a bit like one.

It is... There's people coming in. I'd better keep me voice down. What have you been doing?

Household chores...

Well, it has to be done. You must be making a lot of muck.

I'm doing things that never got done....

I know that, I'm just kidding you.... Do you get good food, and keep fit and well, ready for when you can travel again?

Things are slightly better.

It's terrible, like living in a bird cage. Anyway, I love my little Dino. I don't see him but I love him.... You used to repeat what I said. That's how you learned to speak, before you went to school.... What have you been doing?

I see one job, and then another (crops up). If I don't do that, it'll be a bigger job, later on.

It's lonely, somehow, nowadays, because there's only you I've left. My relatives, are they all gone? Who are they?

There's your brothers family.....

It used to be the kind of thing you had to do, was keep in touch with your relatives.....I'll have to turn off, because it's getting a bit rowdy. There aren't a lot in here.... I'm trying to think who they all are.

Your brothers son, John rang....

I don't know who's living and who is dead, among my relatives. I never see them, and I've lost touch with how they look.... Anyway, I've got my little Dino to talk to.... They've gotten away and out of the habit...   
Can you hear that noise? It's the pots and pans (wheeled on a trolley). It's quiet in here. I don't know when it'll ever be sunny and nice.   
I don't know how they can stop it (infection) except by isolating. But you can't isolate, not altogether....   
I'll ring off now, because I might be annoying them. You'll ring me again, won't you? I love my little son.

I love my mother.

God bless you, darling. Bye-bye.

* * *
18 June.

I walked onto (the next village). And I called into the hotel on the corner. Did they ring you from the club? I don't know what to do. I suppose I'd better stay the night. I'm glad you rang, I was going to ring you. But it's a job...   
I wish I had never come. But I walked out here... I wish I'd never stopped, you know. I wish I'd never come. It was too lonely, on my own. It was a mistake, but it was such a lovely day. I thought I'd sit down, because I was tired. She said she had got in contact with you. They just say anything.

Maybe they do.

I don't know what that is. (Ella did not understand me.) Never mind. They are shouting in here, having a quarrel.... It's too dark to come home. Maybe in the morning. What should I do? Should I stay? I'm a bit lonely, on my own. I wish I hadn't come. I shan't go out again. What do you think?

Where was home? Where you are (giving my street address)? I was there, as I got up and came. I want to get back to you, and I don't know how. What are we to do? There was a bit of sunshine, because I walked to this hotel... I'm lost without you. After a while, I can't stand it. Are you sure I can't go back to (our home street)? It's only a few miles from the village.

I don't drive.

I know you don't drive. Can you get a taxi to bring me home? Can you come and go back with me? (Tell them:) I'm elderly, now, and I want to be with my son. You're my only relative.

I'll tell them you said that.

You're my only close person that I have. I'm wanting to be with you. I pine for you, because I've nobody. I just came for a walk, on a lovely day. I had to sit down for a rest, and then go home again. It means I can't even go out, without being trodden down. Well, I wanted a bit of fresh air. That's all. Can't you visit?

Visitors aren't allowed. The people coming and going, they're just staff, not visitors...

(Tell me where your house is.) I don't know it at all. I'm relying on you.... I'm just going across here. I've moved, because I might annoy people, so I've moved over. I'm stuck here...

I'm going thru the proper channels, to bring you back. Two different things are stopping us meet (the infection and social services).

I wish I'd never gone out, and when it was so beautiful I just walked on. It's the first pub on the right, in the village.... I'm a bit worried about myself, with visitors in and out.

It's the staff, not visitors, that come in and out. They'll try and keep you safe...

I'm worried, because I miss you so much. I just went out, because it was a sunny day.

I hope you had a nice day and walk out [in Ellas imagination].

I don't think nothing of it. All I was thinking about was you. I'd have an afternoon here, then go home. Everything turns rotten. I haven't got your phone number. You can come here. They maybe don't allow it.... I didn't know that. That's drowned me plans.... Unless I came outside in the countryside...

(I tell Ella where she is.)

I don't understand. I'm supposed to be at (the village). I walked (from the village to the neighboring village) to the hotel (the first on the right, as you go into the village). I do love you, and miss you so much. You can't lose me, will you?

I won't lose you, Mum.

I don't want to waste your money.

You're worth more than money.

I do love you. I've always loved you best of everybody.

I think your Mum was most important to you.

My Mum, I loved her. I don't know, she didn't always put me first.

Neither did I...

I couldn't walk back from here to you. I would have been out and back to you. I'm too old for that, now.... There's hardly anybody (in the lounge).

(I'm trying to get you back, by going thru the proper channels.)

You might not win. Will it pay for me?

I'm trying to manage money.

Who's paying for me?

I was going to bring you home, but social services, the county council stopped you from coming. Now, they want me to pay for them keeping you here. I've resisted that, till now.

Just what I expected. Isn't it wicked? Did they expect me to stay?... Do you think the infection will ever be over? It could go on for years.

I don't know what will happen... Yes, I'll keep in contact with you.

What will you do, ring? You're all right, are you, Dino? When's the best time, for you to ring?

After six. If I can't get thru, I'll keep trying.

You won't be able to come and see me? Not at all?

(I'm in quarantine.)

I know this... That worries me. I don't want to be isolated from you. All I can say is how much I love you, and want to see you. You're everything to me, always; my nearest and dearest....

You know why I want you back then, don't you?

It's hard to tell someone you love them, but I love you so much, always, since you were a little babby, looking out of your pram at me; such a cute little lad.... You learned to talk, in the pram. I believed in talking to you, in proper English. You used to repeat it. That's best, not baby talk.... (Ella says to spend on things you need.)

I spend on useful things.

I will take care of you. You must use it on useful things. Don't waste it on silly nonsense. Are you all right for tonight?

I'm on my own.

You've got a nice little house, haven't you? I didn't want it, just wanted to spend money properly. I thought we can live together in this house. You would have the garden, and main part, and I'd have a room.

There's nothing I'd like better than to have you with me. And I'm trying to straighten things out.

I wish you all the luck in doing that. Don't make yourself sick, and make a toil of it. It only makes you poorly. Don't do any harm to yourself, because that's no help for yourself or me. Love comes first. Next thing, you must take care of your finances, or love goes out of the window, and there's no love left. But you must have the money, or you starve. Mind what you buy, and what you're eating. Don't get rubbish.

I do do that.

Yeah, do that, my love.... You tell me when to ring off. (With a little laugh:) I think I've run out of what to tell you.   
(Tell me where your house is.) I don't know it at all.

Our home is opposite the golf course.

That's all I wanted to know. You're in your... our... house. I've always wanted to be there. I have nobody but you, and know nobody here. I can't push myself on people. I've nothing...

(Ella is particularly anxious on this call, that I won't lose her. We agree we'll ring off, now.)

* * *
19 June.

My three-quarter length camel coat, I brought here, is missing. [I think Ella tailored it into a coat for me, when I was a boy.]... Should I tell her not to look for it? (Yes.) All right then.... I've been wearing slippers for about ten days. My feet are cold and my legs are swollen up, because they are too cold. I can't see anything, I've no glasses.... It looks as tho I'll be here forever.

I'm trying to get you away, but I don't know whether I can.

I'm just telling you I love you, I'm not annoyed with you.... We've got 20 or 30 [two or three] Africans. They are a proper handful. I've never seen such (giants). They must be seven foot. They are learning caring. Some of them are six-foot, and fat! – They're like great big elephants.... Me Dad had 'em as well. He had two or three, and the same ones working in the village....   
I'm not shouting. I keep me voice down, because they're all ratty Scots here. And they look at me, when I have the plaid trousers on... And they've been quarrelling, and they row, you know....   
I knew you were going to ring, right on time.... You're a clever little lad.... Well I thought it should be reported (the missing coat). Will you claim insurance?

Leave it to me... No.

I've no glasses, no shoes, no coat.

You mustn't slander people.

I'm not slandering anyone. I'm not going to say anything.... Stop worrying. I have to tell you...

You just worried me with all that malarkey.

She won't have it, because you say she hasn't.

Don't bring me into it, Mum.

You know that I'm not a gossip... I'll leave it, anyway. I'll tell her that I think it might be at home. (She did.) Stop worrying. What are you doing there, grunting away?

Not me.

No, the bloody old telephone.

(Ella never gets her clothes back from the communal laundry.) And they don't fit, you see... They've just brought me a cup of weak tea. And I have trouble with constipation. The pills haven't worked. I've told one of the nurses. I'm a better nurse to myself than all of them put together. They're too young. They haven't the experience.

I understand, Mum.

And they've been fighting amongst themselves. I've got two Scots in here.... I'd just arrived at that hotel, a long time ago. (Mutters:) I hadn't a Mammy then...  
I've been studying about being sent here by Mam and Dad. And it was all wrong, you know. When I was a young girl about twelve, they came here, Mam and Dad. They knew the owners, who were farmers. And sat in the same room. I think she had it in mind to send me here.   
The furniture, Mam had, it's in here, you know, and they've been tarting it up. Mam arranged for me to come with people, farmers who owned it, to come to school here. I'm going to send you to a good school. And none of that was said. She told me to run up the steps to go in. I was never ever written to, or visited, in all the years I was here. Can you imagine me doing that with you?   
I don't hold it against me Mum. But you explain it to a child of 13. And I've been here ever since. My Dad came once... They didn't come to see me, didn't want to get the upset... I had to take all the jibes,.. and that's the story of my young life...  
I didn't have much conversation, just watching tv. It's terrible. I still think I was badly upset. It's serious, isn't it? And I've had to put up with these people. I'm not comfortable and have got bad legs....   
All they brought me is a bit of dried tea-cake, just toasted. All I've had is sandwiches. They will bring those sugar-coated biscuits that make constipation worse. And it makes you constipated, because it's flour.... The virus is keeping us here.

That's one thing.

I haven't a mother, as mothers go. I didn't get any love and kisses with her. I was strictly brought up and just did as I was told. If they'd been strangers, they wouldn't have been any worse.

I doubt that. (Ella concedes, as much, with a laugh.)

And then she died when I was 16. [I think the younger of Ella's two brothers, Lawrence, died when she was 16, and her mother died when she was 18.] I can't understand why she died, why she did that, sending me here. At the farm, I nearly died. I shouldn't have been left in the snow. Someone should have come to get me. I nearly died of pneumonia. [That's a fact.] But I didn't tell you about it, till now.

You fell out of bed, and I had to get you to hospital, nearly a year ago.

Oh, forget that. I know all about that. No need to repeat it. I'm not blaming you....   
The Africans are the tallest women you ever saw. Six-foot tall and a bloke, he's 7'7". And they don't get on with the Scots...   
I'm worried about constipation. I was in hospital about constipation. [The care home rushed Ella to hospital, from loss of blood with a prolapse, for emergency surgery.] (Ella tells the carer, giving the pills, who mentioned getting a doctor.)

(Carer:) I'll let you get back to Richard.

They are a bad-tempered lot. Did you hire these nurses?

Mum, I have nothing to do with that place.

They aren't very good. The Scots go back at them. Anyway, I still love my little Dino. You're my only comfort. There's nobody else to tell.

Get those swollen legs seen to.

The bedroom's terrible. I've got another bedroom. Somebody's sneezing, can you hear it? It's terrible. (Repeated loud sneezings.)

You sound stressed. (Ella was right. A mother knows.) Don't be stressed, because if you're stressed, I'm unhappy... I don't want to be out, with this disease... Don't work all at once, trying to make it a mansion in a day... What can I do? I do hope things will get better. If I hadn't you, I wouldn't laugh. I told you the story of my youth. I love them both. I still do. But I was too frightened and shy. I didn't answer back, and didn't know what was going on....   
It's the same room as I went to school in. I was unhappy and I was worried. The headmistress was always putting you down.... My name was in the foyer. My marks was all good. They never ill-treated me. There must be money out of here... All I do now is keep quiet, and not say any more....   
You're shouting... Oh, it is annoying, this thing (the phone is set too loud). What about my shoes? Do I pay for them?

No.... Mum, next time, make sure the phone isn't too loud, because I can't talk to you, when the phone is too loud... I love you very much.

* * *
20 June.

I think I'll walk to the other end of the room. I'm starved here. It isn't half cold here, because I'm near the door. I feel the cold, don't you? It's like winter up here and they don't have much heat here. (Of new staff:) She don't know how to cook, as well....

The groceries are coming tomorrow, after three weeks wait.

Goody-goody. I'm pleased. You can't do without that.

(The laundry?) They've taken all the clothes away. Someone lent me a jumper, and that's all I have. I'm not warm enough. I don't know, I suppose I'll survive.

I certainly hope so.

How is my little luvvy?... They can hear me. I've moved, come to the end of the room, out of the road.

(The weather) It's very unsettled, Mum.

I was wondering how you're getting on. I hope you're all right. It's barely 7 o'clock. She's getting them all to bed. (I hear it.) And then she starts on us. She gets us out, at 9 o'clock. I don't like it, at all...

(I lose the connection, and ring up again.)

The girls put the phone on again. She fixed it. I don't know how they do it.

No, neither do I.

They're clever, because they're working with them, you see. They have to know their job.... It's like snow. I'm absolutely frozen, because we have no fires. Can't afford 'em, I don't think. And they never start, because once they start, they'll have to keep on.

(Perhaps responding about a late summer:) It's about time, isn't it?

I felt unsettled, like the weather.

Yes, I did, just the same as you.... I was going to say something. I've forgotten what it was.... I've only got one coat left, now, navy blue, and then I've nothing. What do I do then? I've never been out once, since I came here. [That's about right.] It's too cold and miserable for an old woman to go shopping....   
Win came to sit here. So, I mustn't shout very loud. What was I going to say? Are you behaving yourself? – Sorry, Win, I was on the phone – bad job, if you can not behave yourself... Excuse me, a minute, love.... Richard calls you Pat.... (She says:) They call her all sorts.

I know that one.

I do, as well.... It might snow, tomorrow.

No chance.

It'll melt away, won't it?... My memory is awful. I forget what I've said, and what I'm going to do.... I dreamt about you, and the house,... When it was nice, and I was going to come, I woke up.... Can you hear all right?

(Aside:) Is it my boyfriend, did you say?

(Aside:) Tea, not sweet, I mean.

Here I am again.

I'm glad you are, Mum. I'm so glad you are.

It's a funny old world, isn't it? We are still trapped here, you know. I feel like a trapped rabbit....

(At some point, Ella asks:) When did I come here? How long have I been here?

About six or seven months.

No, how long is it since I left home?

Nearly a year.

(Aside:) To tell you the truth, I don't like sweet biscuits.... What's that? That'll do. I'll have two, thank you.

(They are so tall, Egyptians or Africans) make our own look like little lads.... Somebody's squealing. Can you hear it? (Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.) Can you hear that?...   
We have a bad climate. I've done composition about the weather, at school. She was a good teacher but a bad-tempered old... Going to school, I'd never been among children, hordes of them. A big shock to me. I never saw Mum and Dad again, after that...

I love you, Mum. I do love you so much.

That's a good thing. That's worth a lot to a person.... It's very nice...

Can you hear that row? (Crying out.) That's what we got for tea... (With the shops shut:) They can't make a living. (We couldn't have done.)

That's the big problem. They're in a dilemma (between business and distancing).

They must be desperate. It makes a mess of everything.... What have you got to tell me?

The most important thing, I've already told you.

That's the best thing... Wonderful.... It's terrible cold, in (town).... Can you hear that bell?... They're gathering round. We'll ring again, tomorrow, then. Take care, my darling. Take care...

* * *
21 June.

I was just thinking about you. I was wondering what you were doing.

I'm at your home.

Which is mine? Where are you, Dino?... Yeah, all right, I understand where you are now. Don't I know it! (Ella sometimes talks of crossing a field, with me, to find it.) You aren't always lucky. People get in before you....

It's been sunshine and showers, here.

It's been dark in the room, dull.... I don't know, really. I'm just sitting and trying to pass your time. All you can do is think. I haven't been walking, just sitting here. It's a funny old life. I suppose I'm very lucky. I wish you were a little nearer... I hope you're happy. I try to do the best I can to make you happy and well.... Ah well, I'll put up with it. I'll be all right as long as you're around.... I think about you everyday.

And I think about you everyday, Mum.

I'm pleased you think about me, a bit... It's very nice... Have you a nice bed?

I live in the same bedroom. It has black curtains, to rest my eyes from the light.

Oh, that's good. As long as you're comfortable. That's the main thing.... It's getting very dark and dull, here. I never look out much, very little, just sit on me big chair, here – it's a bit warmer. They're good, them chairs with big arms.... It's very good to hear from you again. Haven't I been hearing from you?

I ring you everyday.

I'm pleased. I like to know you're all right. It makes me feel happy.... Can you hear me?

Are you all right?

Yes, I'm not so bad, sat in me big armchair, with deep closed-in sides, to keep the cold out.... Have you a good chair?

We have one like that, but we don't often sit in it.

That's good, you need a good chair. Do you know owt? I know nowt.

Things have ground to a halt with this infection. It's made things even worse.

I can still remember walking along the field to the house. It's a sort of beauty spot, with hills and wood-land. It used to be fotoed onto postcards, on sale. It's got masses of primroses, in spring. It's private, belongs to the farm.... They're having a row.

I just hear animated conversation.... I'm here. I love you, Mum.

I know you do... They're quarrelling. It's very dull here, 'cos it's early morning.

It's evening now, Mum.

I didn't know what it was. It's all the same. Dull and darkish. And they've just had a spat, a couple of them. Makes it more lively. As long as it isn't me. I dean't know nowt. There's nowt to say. I can tell you about nowt. Is it early? I don't know what time it is.... Oh, is it? It's just like one long day.... I'll try this ear now. You get tired...

I maybe should have thought of something to tell you. I fotoed a bed of mauve flowers... I can just hear quick talking, in the background... It's not real dark here, but a bit dreary.

It's very dreary here. There are spells of bright sunshine, then a shower. There isn't a view, unless you get up and look.... They're having a bit of a row. Telling each other to shut up. That's what they're doing. I never have rows. I keep out of 'em, if I possibly can. Try to do. Can't always manage it, but I managed it. I haven't got Dino to tell 'em off.... No, I didn't think you would. No, you're too much like me. Quite a lot really. [Same shy temperament.] They've stopped now.

Oh, they've started again.

On, you heard that... I can't stick all night and day in bed. It's horrible, isn't it? Makes you more lonely than ever. There's not been much sunshine.

I don't like being in the sun.

I don't like to sit in it, but I like the warmth of it. Can't do without the sun. Is it bedtime, nearly? (No.) Is it morning, or is it evening? Some of them going to bed already. I'm not too early, it makes it a long night. Not many people, in here, only four or five. They never speak, day in and day out. One nearby, you can't talk to her. It's like being on your own.... Yeah, very funny.... Are you warm?

We've got central heating that warms the air.

Is it busy, where you are? We're opposite a field.

Oh, that's our happy home. It hasn't been good for me, living there. (Ella wants to know why things never seem to get better.)

It's a new disease. They come, now and again.

(Ella reminisces again about an outbreak in the 1930s.) Keep out of crowds, Dino.

That's why people have to keep apart.

The house, is it on its own, or in a row?

It's a semi.

Just right, then. I don't remember getting it now. I lost it. I was good at things like that, at one time.... About half a dozen of them are left in the room, here. When do you go to bed?

I go, any time.

When you feel like it... Is it a semi?

Yes, it's all right.

It's cold is a single house. Yeah, it will be warm with central heating. You can't do without it, really... Another is going to bed. When they all go (it's still early). I wish you were here.

I wish you were where I am.

Yeah, I do, even if you don't talk, it's company to have someone by you. I know it could be better. It would be everything to be with you. When they all go, I never know whether to go or not. It's too early to go to bed. You can't just lie there, all night....   
My little lad. My little Dino. I think about you... It's nice to hear you. (I reciprocate.) Yeah, I know, Dino.... It's a long time, since we lived by the river. You, and your little tricycle. Used to take it to the roughest of places.

There only were rough places.

I know, it was funny... And you never think it's going to finish, but it does. I never forget. You can forget home but you can't forget the river and house.... Who lives next door? You're not crowded in? So you like it, don't you?

It would be better, if you were with me.

But it just ain't to be.

I can only try.

I don't think about things, I have no faith in. It's not worth it. Not worth it. Anything I can't have, I don't think about it. If it comes, it comes, and if it doesn't, it doesn't.

(I assured Ella that I fully agreed with her.)

Sometimes, I think about working in the kitchen, and a little man comes in – the landlord – he never knocks, he just comes in (taking by surprise).

(Anyway, you gave the right manner of address.)

I knew that, without being told. There was nobody to guide me. Dad was in the field, and only came in for a bite to eat. It was quite lonely, with nobody to share the house, just myself.

It's the same here.

But I was just a young 'un. I didn't know the ropes. It's a frightening, lonely spot. You never knew who there was coming. It was different to what people imagine. I used to bolt the door.... I must let you go now. You ring again, will you? I love you very much. I'll ring off, they're hanging around here, now. My best loved little lad. I'll let you go, for now... They've brought a tea.

I'll go now, there's somebody talking to you. (Ella, distracted, might forget she was on the phone.)

* * *
23 June.

... Long time, no see.

Yeah, that's true...

It's nice to hear from you, even if not seeing you. It's nice weather but it's cawd. I'm going to that place where you've been and me. And they put us where we can't go out. You can go in the garden, if there's somebody with you... And I think about my little Dino. Wonder how he's getting on. That's you, Dino, if you don't know who it is....

You are the most important thing to me...

(Ella senses I'm trying to help her out.) Don't get into a big debt, and then don't get any reward out of it. I hope you know what you're doing.... What's in that field, where you are?

It's still a field...

(In the background, a wail...) Can you hear? Making a din... (At first, Ella thinks it's kids. I tell her they are old.) Everything is the same and no different to last time.... It's wonderful to hear from you.... Who lives next door? The same people?...   
They're having a fight, a row. (It's like a patients persistent unappeased incoherent protest.) I keep away from all that. A disagreement among club members here... Can you hear them?

Sort of...

It's nice to hear from you, Dino. Altho, I've nowt to say – I've never been out.

So, don't cut yourself short. You're precious to me.

And you to me, from a little nipper. You still are my lovely little lad.

You're the only person that knows it.

That's the same with me.

(I never take for granted all the greenery, any more.)

Well, I made sure there was a garden, when I bought the place. Bushes and trees, I like them.

It's like an orchard.

I was pleased with that. If it's got that, it's good enough for us.... Sometimes people annoy you, but I always avoid it. Let them have their say, and I don't answer.... I can see an apple tree and there's loads of 'em, only little ones. (Crab apples you can't eat but you can cook.) Have you a lawn?

No, it's all bushes and trees.

You do come to grass, tho?

Across the road there's a field.

Yes, I was quite happy with it, when I saw it.

It's more sheltered, since I've grown a lot of bushes.

It was neglected that way, and they soon grow.... I'll love you and leave you. I love you so much. God bless you. Will you ring again? It's better to ring off, because they're coming to sit down. Bye-bye, my darling.

24 June.

I hope you're happy, darling. I worry about you, not seeing you or anything. I never see you. We seem to be doomed, don't we?

I don't know whether we are not.

They're having a row in the room... They're getting supper. I have no appetite for what they brought.

(I hope it will be better.)...

I miss you, not seeing you. Nowt we can do about that, is there?

Not at the moment.

Is it getting any better?

It's only very slowly getting better. They're starting to relax restrictions (on social distancing) so it (the infection) could start all over again.

We are always unlucky, aren't we?... They're quarrelling like cats and dogs. They get to grips with the staff. If I don't like owt, I don't say. I don't like rowing. I'm among the people, so I don't like to be on the phone, in case we're annoying them. They're all having their tea. Can you hear me?

I can hear you fine, but I dare hardly speak.... I'll try about 7 o'clock.

Anyway, Dino, I love you.

Well, whatever happens, I still love you.

My little lad, my little sunshine... God bless you...

* * *
25 June.

I'm as fed up as a rabbit here. They've moved us to another room, somewhere. It's awful, really. Nobody here. They go into the garden, into the sunshine. (Aside:) What's that, love? No, I don't like 'em. Can I have a bag of crisps?   
(Ella's brought a cup of tea, and a bag of crisps.)... What have you been doing?

I've just been doing chores, as usual...

You don't want to worry about doing things. No need for it.... My little sunshine, I love you so much.

I love you, too.

I don't think I've any relatives left...

They're either too far away or don't have anything to do with you.

People can't be bothered with writing letters. There isn't much point in it. Writing letters isn't easy. You never know what to say. [Ella's description brings back memories!] They have their own little selves, or some little buddy... (Speaking of one:) He seemed to me, as tho, if he doesn't get on, and they don't please him, he's not going to stop with them. He's like that...

I'm a hopeless conversationalist.

We've never done much of it, you see.... Is that virus getting better?

It's very slowly getting better. But it could start all over again in winter.

(Ella agrees that's when it gets worse.) People get poorly in bad weather. Don't bother with the garden in winter. There's nothing doing.... Anyway, it's a good little spot. A great buy was that. Walking up the field, that was in front, I said to myself: I'm going to buy, regardless of whether anyone else wants it.... It's nice to hear from you.

You're lovely, my sweet Mum.

There's a lot of quarrelling, and going on. It's increased a lot has the falling out.... Don't talk so loud...

It's because I got excited....

I don't get excited, nowadays, I can tell you (laughs).... I was just thinking about your Dad. When did you last see him, before he died? I don't know what happened. Apart from what you told me.

He died in hospital, because of pneumonia [in the ward]...

I had pneumonia. When I was 12, I was given-up as wouldn't last till morning. Mam didn't half set to work to stop that. It comes of getting wet and cold. Don't ever over-do working, because you start to sweat. That's bad, I found that out.

I'm limited what I can do...

Some people push themselves, and they shouldn't. Just do it for enjoyment, just for an hour. Don't do it, when it's cold and wet or bad weather or wind.

No. Thank you, Mum. I love you, too.

You're not going?

No... It's true, we've only got each other.

Some haven't got that. There are women, absolutely isolated. You can tell.... You haven't to take it too much [to heart?] Love me, and kind of live with it. You know what I mean.... Uncle and auntie, the children, all died. They were the closest I had. Dads side didn't bother hardly.... I've forgotten what I was talking about. It's old-age and bad memory. I'm here.

I'm glad you are.

I's keeping an eye on you.... High Noon (she laughs.) You know that picture? It was a good film. Can't remember what it was about.

It was about a man who was left all on his own, against a gang coming to get him. [It reminds me of how we were situated against social services. Tho, I didn't say so to Ella.]

Did you hear that? (A residents outburst of distress.) We have that to listen to, for t' evening. We are well off. She's absolutely lonely, I think. Wanting people to know she's there, I think.... I'm stuck, up here, and can't see anything, unless I stand by the window. They sit in the garden. I haven't been out much. It's bright sunshine.... Have you got any goose-berries? Are you going to make gooseberry pie?

I can eat them.

Have you any rhubarb?

Yes but it's not harvestable.

Any plums?

I don't think they're out yet.

No, I mean have you got them?

Yes. The red-currants will be nearly out.

Have you any black-currants?... She's doing her song (the crier). I get all sorts here. It is queer. Listening to everybodys faults and habits, and God knows what.... I don't like me bedroom. I was starved to death. I was frozen. I shall be glad to be out of here. It doesn't look as tho I will be. So it's not very good. I can't move to you? They won't let me, will they? (No.) I can't understand that. There isn't any freedom in this country, is there? (No.) It's a miserable hole. Terrible....   
Can you hear that? (The crier again.) That's what you have to listen to. It's wonderful! (She laughs, ironically.)... (An indescribable outburst: Dadadadada!)... Did you hear that, now? Terrible. They're bored stiff. They have no (thing to do)....   
Do you have any curtains?

I have some black curtains, to keep out the light.

Have you got lace curtains?

We've got plenty. They cut out the glare.

They stop people looking in...

(YayaYayaYayayeah...[It's crying to everybody: I'm miserable.] I feel sorry for her, and for you, to tell you the truth.

She wants to be heard, you see. We, I could do that. But I wouldn't do it. She's better off than I am. I could do that, and be justified... Hello, hello. This is me calling.... "Germany calling. This is the news for the English. German bombers shot down eight planes...." Oh, it was terrible was that war. It's all finished but those, who lived thru it, had to bear it.... (More crying out.) Are you enjoying that? That's our entertainment...   
Do you still love me?

I shall love you till I die.

I think things might change, but I can't see it, yet.

No, I can't, yet.

(The crying outbursts carry on.) Can you hear my music while you work?... God bless you. You'll ring me tomorrow? Have a real good nights rest...

* * *
26 June.

Don't shout, because people are nearby. Talk as low as possible.... I was thinking about you. Wondering how you're getting on. I miss you so much. They don't let you out, now, do they? Are the troubles finished? There's been troubles in Britain, for a long time, now. I think it's everywhere. (More so here, because it's well-known.)... You like the house you're in?

It's not as good as my Mum is. (She reciprocates.) Thank you...

It's essential tho, isn't it? So, it is a godsend, isn't it? A lot of people haven't got one. They never think of making room for the future.

(But for Ellas hard work and foresight, we would have been in the same fix.) Some are unlucky...

They'll be unlucky, if they don't work and earn a living....

We've had a misfortune, this year: They're not letting you come home.

(Ella says to the effect:) That's a different thing. Forget about it. (That's not?) the worst bit of the troubles, anyway. I've got Win (a former friends name) next to me. I think I'll have to ring off. I don't like to leave them without anyone to talk to. It isn't often she's there, sat right next to me.... You do miss me, a bit?

I'm so sorry they do not let you come home.

They've got too much sway. We should naturally be together... (for) love, isn't it?... Everybody else seems to be all right. I don't know what we've done wrong. But they can't take your love away.

Ideally, I would like to get you home eventually.

We must try to. We'll just expect it to happen... Oh well, never mind, honey.... Do you hear from our relatives?...

(Some relatives are a long way away, others just drift away...)

Not even with their own close relatives (do they always stay together).... Is the virus getting better?

Only slowly. It could be all over again in winter.

It isn't very nice here, really. You have to put up with it. What else can you do? You're better with your loved one, you. Oh well, we've always been close. We'll leave it for now.

You'd better get talking to Pat.

Not talking, but just keeping company....

I'll always love you.

I know you will, love. See you tomorrow....

* * *
27 June.

I think I'll go and get me coat. I'm cold. I'm absolutely freezing, because I haven't a coat. I'm sat near Win and feeling very cold. Is it all right if you ring a bit later, while I get a coat? (Ella also thinks of moving to another place. Animated voices can be heard in the background. I tell Ella that there is good news and there is bad news. She says she doesn't want to hear bad news. I say it's run-of-the-mill bad news, mixed with good news. And I tell her that the joiner will be coming to finish the stairs to the loft.

Ella says we will try again when it's less busy and noisy. She says not to shout, because she doesn't want to annoy them. Ella mutters that Pat was sat next to her. So, somewhere in her mind, she has her actual name stored. We have a meandering conversation about the best time for me to ring tomorrow.)

* * *
28 June.

It's good to hear your sweet voice again...The ombudsman has appointed someone to investigate my complaint...

What complaint?

That social services wouldn't let you leave the care home to come home with me.

Why?

I don't know why they've done it.... That's them...

I don't want trouble for ourselves: I'm too old for it, and you're not young...

Social services have been walking all over us, for nearly a year.

What way?

They kept you in hospital for over a hundred days. They imprisoned you, detained you in the care home.

Why has it happened to us?

The Hardie report says tens of thousands of elderly people have been imprisoned in care homes against their will. The county council is going to force me to pay for your imprisonment....

Oh well, they always get their own way. There's nothing you can do about it.

At least, I'm going to try. A solicitor has sent a letter to their law officer...

I don't want our lives making a misery.

They already have made our lives a misery.

What way?

Not allowing you to come to your home, and live with me, as we always have done.

We'd need someone to care for me. What if I become poorly, or you become poorly?

That's why we'd have a live-in carer.

We don't know how it would work out. My mother took in people, and I know, from experience, how things don't always work out. How unpleasant it is, when you have someone in the house, you don't like. I don't want a boss.

The first person, you could get, might be Aunty Peaky, rather than Dracula. (Ella laughs. Aunty Peaky was originally a guest who became a life-long friend of the family.) I'll be with you, all the time. Mum, if you don't do anything, they'll leave you there forever.

I don't want to do anything...

You won't have to do anything. I'll do it for you...It's your choice...

God bless you, my darling. You're a sweet boy to do things like that. I leave it to you. I want to be with you all my life. You're my wee bairn... That's how you spell it. You know that?... I thought you would.

I'm inside (the managers office) and sitting. There is no company, they are all outside. What happens is they leave you on your own. I'm not so good on me pins, nowadays. I don't want to have to come back, on my own, without help... Anyway, I think about you all the time. I'm in this office, where you and me used to be. – (Ella describes the position of the managers office.) – I miss you. I love you very much.

(Exactly my feelings.)

Is the house all right?

It would be better with you.

It would, wouldn't it? I don't know what possessed me to do it. It's the future I was thinking about. You always have to "Look to the future before it comes."

I'll remember it (Mums own saying).

You're a funny little lad. (Ella also gives the good advice:) Have a resting time before you go to bed.... Are you in the big city?

I'm at your house.

Oh, I know it. I've always wanted to live there, and finish up there.

Mum, I need your consent.

I give my consent.... Oh, that's all right then. I like the freedom.

I'll keep trying, till you get somebody, you like.

You do that. You're my lovely lad.... She's gone now that she is sick of me. She's gone now, while I was talking to you. I think she wanted to be out of the conversation.... There's a heat fan in here. Quite good. It's a fire – hot and cold, rather.... They're quarrelling...

I thought they were laughing.

(Ella is told by the manager, at the door:) Stay as long as you want, darling.

She's (the manager's) gone, now. She must want us to stop in the office. They'll think it's her (she chuckles).... It's windy today.... Who's a good lad? Do you remember me saying that? (Something to the effect: lovely trees where you were when a little lad.)... It's maybe the fan in here, that's making it miserable.... What do you want stairs into the loft for?

It's the biggest room in the house.

It would make a good play area. It would have been good for table tennis. (Dads game.)

It has a comfortable carpet with underlay.

A carpet is ruined by games. They need a wood floor.

It has a varnished floor underneath....It's been windy all day.

Like back-end, isn't it? We haven't had a summer, have we?

How are you doing?

From day to day, it's the same – nothing. There's nothing different,.. Having something to eat, when you can get it. You might have company, and a bit of a conversation. But they all go outside, into the garden. But I never go. If I go out and catch cold... You get drafts. It's not worth it....

I would use my own savings, if need be, to look after you, Mum.

I won't always be here. What are you going to look after then?

In the first place, I will have to look after myself.

I was waiting for a decent answer. I didn't know what I was going to get. Oh, that's all right. That's what I wanted to hear.... Somebody's come in. God bless you, I love you.

* * *
29 June.

I learned, from a solicitor, that the Advocate wouldn't bring a Legal Aid case, at the Court of Protection, to bring Mum home, from the care home, because she wasn't objecting to being there. [Her antagonism, at the Best Interest meeting, I previously deplored, in Home Free....]

That evening, on the phone, I tried to explain to Ella, that she has to tell them: She wants to live with me. But she is too old and tired, to keep objecting any more. She already has done, and it didn't do any good. And she is certainly right that it still wouldn't help against such determined opposition.

All I did, was worry her with the consequences, to her, saying she wants to live with me: Tell who? – The staff. – Who are the staff? I can't just ask them, while they're going about their work. Then, go where to tell them? Then, they'll ask who's your son? And where does he live? Ella knew, with her unreliable memory, she wasn't up to their questionings.

Eventually, I had to apologise for worrying her. Nevertheless, these conversations continued to reveal the true state of Ellas feelings and wishes.

(Ella:) I'm in the clubhouse. Well, I came in, because there's nobody to be with. I thought I'd come and contact you. I've nowhere to be. It's bloody awful, really. But what can I do? I can't do nowt. I'm born to be (lumbered?) with this. Why I have all this bother, I don't know. I never caused any bother to anyone. I don't know what it's all about. Anyway, I'm in that room. (Of Richard:) I actually don't know where he was. Is he in his bedroom? Or somewhere...

(I apologise to Ella for worrying her about leaving the care home:)

I knew that it would happen. Not for a while (has she been worried). I'm not worried, I'm sick of it.

All I've done is worry you to death.

I love you, darling.... I want to be with you. Don't worry... I just think it'll be left as it is, and I'll snuff it, here, now.... I spilled all my water, and I've two tablets in me mouth. I'll take them out, and I don't know what to do with them. I'll put them in the pot. The water has sunk into the carpet.... It's a bloody hopeless going-on. I don't know why. I don't know... Trouble seems to follow me. Always has done. I haven't any close relatives...  
What a going-on... Just to be with your husband.

Your son, in this case.

Never mind. I can't understand it.... Leaving it just to me to put it right.

I wasn't leaving it to you, Mum.

Anyway, I don't know. I just can't understand it. Why can't a mother be with a son? Good grief. I've done plenty, myself. Anyway, I can't understand it....

(Aside:) I'm just getting some bun, here: Thank you, love, you're a good 'un.

They've brought tea and a bit of sickly cake. We don't like that. (Where are you now?)

I live in the house you bought.

Would you believe it? And I can't even remember it. It was a semi. I've forgotten (the rest. I've never been in it.) I think it's quite nice. Not too showy, and it was cheap... Maybe, I'd better save some (phone calling) for tomorrow, because it's expensive. It's cost me a fortune to tell you: I love you. My best best lovely little lad. God bless, till another night.

I won't worry you, any more. I worried you too much.

No, it wouldn't work, Richard (I think of what I did, but it doesn't do any good...) All they mind is they win what they want. I know what they are, when I did for myself.... You haven't worried me, Dino – I've lived with worries. Nowt I can do. I'm fastened up in a den, now.... I have a house. I haven't got your freedom. (Some British people can manage.) They've got plenty of channels (?to work for them). We can't, we're a hopeless case.

They have all the advantages.

I can't do it. I'm too auld to bother with that, because I can't get nowhere with it. I can't do it, now. No, they just lead me on a gob-lead. Do it their way.

I am sorry for bothering you.

I tried two or three times. They don't care... It's always till next time, next time.... Can you hear the screaming? I don't know what's going on, down the passage.... We can't get the better of them. We are a hopeless case.

I still have to do the best I can.

As long as they can get away with what they want, what we want they ignore. They can keep it how they want it, and they let you suffer, keeping asking for it. That's how it is, and has always been...

They've loaded it (the tea) with sugar. I can't drink it. It's wasted. I'll apologise. I think I said: No sugar. They don't listen. They think everyone likes sugar, because they do. And they've brought a sickly cake.... Nothing goes right, does it?

It's been a bad day.

I'm sat here in t'clubhouse, you know. It seems funny being stuck, coming to a place like this. I don't know what's happened. I haven't done (anything wrong). I don't know how to get out of it. I've got to the point, where I don't want to talk about it. I can't do anything. You tell me what I should do. I'm so muddled-up with it. I don't do nothing.... There's a bit of screaming... It's somewhere in the building, where I am, down the passage.

Mum, I love you.

I'm glad you do, Dino. It's the best thing. Only, it doesn't solve problems. But problems always stop on us. I've had more problems, over a bit of being together, than I've had in my life. It's ridiculous, really. Others don't have such problems. I haven't anything to say.

I'm in the same boat.

You keep on dry land. I don't want you worrying. It's just our luck. Other people can come and go, and do anything.... By! It's cold on your legs, with the doors open. I'm sick of this spot....   
Is the house nice? I've never been in it, and I don't think I ever will. I was allus left holding the baby, as they say. I spent all my life, doing things at home.... I've got a nasty sweet cake on my plate, and a tea full of sugar. Isn't it awful, I can't eat or drink it. I'll have to throw it down the sink, I don't know. I wish I was with you.   
I don't know, I've worked hard all my life, and I'm not left with nowt. That's why you just get these people helping themselves. They do better than you do... Are you there, Dino? I've nothing to say, except I love you. It's always been difficult, I suppose. Why can't I come to you?

Social services stopped you.

It's ridiculous. I'm not going to start fighting them lot. It's hopeless. They've got all the contacts. It's just wasting your time. It's ridiculous, that... How far are you away?

Three and a half miles.

I could walk that.

I can't now, Mum. I'm too old.

I had to walk to school that distance, everyday.... I shall have to let you ring off. I miss you, tho. I've nothing, here. It's just stupid being here, especially when I've got a house. What am I doing here? Why can't I pack my bags? What's stopping me? Just do what you like.... They like to be boss... They're... I hope they aren't listening...   
I can't say I'll see you soon, but I'll ring you soon. (I haven't a number.) At this time of night, it's all right; it's quiet. So, I'll love you and leave you. Maybe in our dreams, we'll get something going right.... It was just a simple thing – just being together.... I'm all stuck here, with this nasty bloody place... Oh, you're all right...

You sound tired.

Oh, I shan't sleep. I might sound tired but I don't sleep, till about morning (she laughs ruefully).... Maybe a miracle will happen. But that never happens...

* * *
(Background jabbering of a lonely resident, I recognise.)

I'm cold here. I want to come home, because my feet are cold; because my legs are aching.

Mum, they – social services – won't let you come home.

What for? It's ridiculous. What am I going to do? I need to be warm. I'm cold in bed.... All they do is chuck a blanket over me. I want to come home. What am I going to do?

I ask myself the same thing.

(Some time in the conversation, Ella said:) I'll explode...

You mustn't do that, Mum. You'll make yourself poorly.

If I came to you, they couldn't stop me.

They can. They think they know best.

I want to contradict them. What a going on. I'm unhappy here. I've nobody here. It's cold and miserable. Tell 'em. Who can I complain to about it? I want to be with you. I never see you. I don't seem to have any influence.

I don't, either.

We aren't forced to stay here.

We are forced. (I'm trying to change that.)

You won't do any good. It's a waste of time; frustrating for me, an' all. Oh, it is awful. I don't know what to say. I have complained but it didn't do any good. (Mum cries...) I've no-one to talk to, no friends or relatives to come and see me, not even you....   
There's a fight on, with one of the patients. Oh hell, she's hit her. They're hitting one another. She can't hit a fly.... They've given me a blanket to put on me legs. That's my medicine. The bedroom is so cold. The heater, I put it on, at medium, and then it goes out. What a misery.

[I found out that thermostat electric heating didn't work for us. And replaced it with hot water central heating.]

I should never have come here, and I don't know how to get out. I would walk out, if I could. How I get in this bloody (mess), I do not know. And then I end up like this, all the time. It's awful. I don't have a nice day. I just sit down on the couch, with a blanket over my legs. And that's my day...  
I want to go out, but they won't let you leave.

I can't understand it. And you're my only relative and I can't have him. And haven't done a bloody thing wrong in my life. I'm stuck here, and it's 7 o'clock or whatever, and I have to sit here till midnight. I have to go to bed and get-up to do the same thing, all over again.   
I've never been out since I came here. Just in this room. What have I done? Nobody seems to have the power to help me. Other people seem to have... I can't even come and see you...  
When it eases down, I'll come to see you, and then I'll stay. They can't force me from not seeing my son. What can I do? (Ella weeps...) We could get away from them all. Why can't I live with you?

They're just bossy blighters, Mum. That's all. I'm sorry, Mum.

Can I make it public? Are there others?

There are: mothers losing their children. Elderly people locked in care homes...

...It's terrible. It's horrible. No peace and quiet. Just pushing about, eating in front of you. I'm lonely because I have no one... When there's no infection, won't they allow me near you?

No, they don't help at all.

How can they keep you away? It's like a communist... Why can't we alter it?

It's too big to stop, this power they've got. And we are in serious danger. This virus could kill either of us....

You have to look to what's good, for a change. Well, my darling, I could meet you somewhere.... What's this care home for? What benefit is it?

Social services pretend it is (of benefit to you)...

(Ella wants to write a letter of complaint. But doesn't feel up to it:) I won't do it just now.

It's all right, Mum.

I do love you.

And I love you, too, Mum. You're the best thing in my life.

Tone it down, they can hear you.... God bless you, darling. We've had a terrible time, and I don't know what we can do. I love you, you're my son and I feel really angry that I've been deprived of you. It's terrible.

A lot of people are like us.

Are you sure? Ours is inhuman.

They blamed them for not looking after their children.... They tried to do it with me, at first.

They would. That's to get their own way, you see. It's a wicked world. Can't you take it to a higher point?... They're probably working with them.

I'm sure they are.

There's people, in here, won't be pushed about. But not enough. Not loud enough. Anyway, I don't have anything nice to tell you. This room is quite rowdy. They're getting to grips with patients (residents, people staying here).... My lad, I can't see much happening to help us. But I love you. I don't know how (we'll manage). We've never been bad citizens... No, I don't think officials care... They don't give a damn about anyone but themselves....   
They're getting a bit more wild... Well, I shall have to go, to have a wee (laughs a little, for the first time).

(Your love means more than anything to me.)

Oh, I'm glad. It means everything to me....

* * *

#### 1 July.

Table of Contents

Hello Richie, how are you?... Well, I'm in this room. (Gently sarcastic:) Oh, it's lovely. There's about a dozen, half a dozen left here for the night.... Can you turn your voice down? It's a good reception....

I'm lucky to have a lovely and wonderful Mum, like you.

You really mean that, don't you?... Have you been a good boy?

I've not much choice.

No, neither have I.

The joiners have made a hole up the wall and in the ceiling. It's for a staircase that'll go across the top of the cupboard. But they'll cut the cupboard doors, so I can still open them.

What are they doing that for?

It's for a staircase to the loft.

Oh,... You're making it better, aren't you?...

What have you been doing?

I soaked the envelope backs off stamps, I collected as a boy, 60 years ago, from your shop deliveries. Also Dads stamps from Romania. I'm going to sell them, to help pay for our phone calls.

Mum commented that Dads stamps should make some money.

I said that I sold most of his collection, and was surprised by how well they did.

Mum said she wasn't surprised, because Dad bought them as an investment.)

It's been cold, today.

It's been a dull day.

Where are you, in the town?

I'm in your house.

Oh, you're lucky... I wish I lived there. I'm in this awful room, among a lot of people. I think I shall be here forever, till I snuff it.

That's what social services want....

Mind, they get a lot of people, who get left on their own...

I just wish that I could give you a decent life....

Just keep ringing me, when I'm available, and that's as good as having to come by bus....

I love you, Mum....

That's everything to me is that. It really is. It wouldn't have made any difference. I'd still have loved you.... We'll meet again. Don't know where, don't know when. You know the song, don't you?

(I can't keep the tears out of my voice:) I don't know whether we will. There'll always be a place in my heart for you.

(When Mum talked of ringing off, I said we had long calls, the previous two nights. But she could stay on, if she wanted. Mum said she would, but they are sitting around close.) I love you so much,... and you just ring me.... God bless you... (Mum was so nice to me, as loving and affectionate as ever.)

* * *
2 July.

I'm a bit under the weather. It's cold, and I came up to lay on the bed. I'm getting warmed up a bit. I'll just put me socks on. I won't be a minute.

I've had the joiners in all day.... No, the expense isn't too bad.

You must be doing a good job there.... It's a funny day, cold and windy.

I've been sorting Dads Romanian stamps....

Dad was a keen collector. He would buy them reasonable, I should think.... I miss you. I wish I was with you. I don't know why we can't get together. Why are we stopped?...

(The usual reasons. I worry about Mum.)

I don't like you being worried, either. I dislike it very much, and I don't want it.... I must have the heater on. It's a bit warm. I'll go and turn it off.

Mum, do you know how to turn it on again?

I've switched it off. No, I just use the switch on the wall. If I put it back on, it might go on. I hope so. It's a miserable day, isn't it?

It's another dull day.

I was just thinking about you, and wishing I was near you. I miss you, a lot, you know.... I went into the waiting room [a good name for it, it keeps you waiting] and I left it; didn't feel very well. I'm back in my bedroom. It's warmer. So, I'm laid on me bed....   
Semis are a lot warmer than detached, because the wind blows all round them.

(I mention we have central heating.)

Does it boil water?

Yes, it keeps hot.

I thought of that myself...

I didn't fit the cupboard door properly on the water closet I made. I got the joiners to do it.

Remember, once you're injured, you're stuck with it, at your age. It's not necessary. Nobody is going to praise you for that -- just say you're daft.... My little chicken. I love little chickens, when they're just born. You can catch 'em and put 'em in your hand and stroke 'em....   
Thoo's a funny auld thing.... Hello, can you hear me?... I'm going to put the phone on me other ear. It sounds different on the other ear.... It's windy.

It's drafty.

Yes it's drafty... I've got a sore mouth. The sides are sore and swollen.

You could tell the staff – those who bring you your food.

Nobody brings me something to eat. Who do you think would do that? I don't know, it would be to make, and pay for.

You must get food, somehow.

I line myself up with them, when they're eating. They may be charging you...

I don't want to go into all that...(I heard the door creak.) Was that someone who came in?

Somebody looked in, then went away. I don't know who it was.... My left ear is my best one.... I didn't know (it was), either. Maybe it's just how I was sitting, I don't know.... Not a bit like summer, is it? Never is, in England. You can expect anything, and you get it, an' all....   
I'd like to be with you. You aren't pressed to talk, all at once. I miss you. We have a funny old life, haven't we? Why that is, I don't know. It beats me. I've done all I can to alter it.

I know, Mum, I know. I wish that God look after you.

Why, do you want me to die?

No, Mum... (I'm lost for words.)

He doesn't look after individuals, he looks after all. (It's the people, who must look after themselves.) I don't know, some people know how to do it. There has to be a few of you, to bring it off. It isn't as easy as you think. It's been jolly hard keeping things together. It wasn't easy....   
I go to the table, and live like they do. Some-times, they tell me to go to the table. I usually just go, as tho I was one of them. They're like foster parents, in a way. Better than nowt. Foster means when you haven't got your real ones?

You've put your finger on it.

(Ella thinks she has.)....What have you been doing?

I've told you the main stuff. What have you got to tell me?...

Is the house in good order?... I'm pleased about that. So, it's all right, is it?... Who's next door?... They came just after us?... Where is it? In the south..., like?.

No, the north....

I've just forgotten what it's like.... My house is a bloody old bedroom. It's all I've deserved... Third rate... I'm just unlucky. Nothing comes right.

You're fine, Mum.

"Why Aye, Man." I like that saying. It's a quick thing to say. It can end the conversation.

It's polite.

It's a polite way of saying that you had all you want, and know it all now.... I've got a stuffed-up nose.

Got a bit of catarrh?

Well, yes. I'm laid on the bed, without a blanket.

You should have a blanket over you.

I should have, really.... I'll just go on my chair. I'll have to put the heater on.... I miss you, and I'm a bit lonely without you. The main thing is that.   
I've switched the fire on. It soon gets cold, in the bedroom, because it's higher up. I wish you were nearer and you were with me.... I don't have any news. I wouldn't get it, if I wanted it.

I don't much follow it. It bores and depresses me.

I forgot to tell you get a little wireless.... Oh, the virus...

Hopefully, it'll subside.

Do you think so? We had diseases before. They've gone away quickly.

This is a more difficult one

– I think so, anyway.... I don't think I've any relatives. Uncle Job and Auntie Annie must both have died. Gordon's gone, Margaret's gone. Got a girl in South Africa. I think it's very unrewarding keeping in touch, with people a long way away. Just makes it worse.... What sort of a town is it, where you are?

I'm at the other end of town.

That's not far away.

There's social distancing (from the disease).

Is it spreading?

All over the world.

That's because people travel more.... Can't stop it now. Money stopped it, one time... I'm going back on t'bed.... People didn't have money to jaunt about. Didn't know what it was like to go abroad.... You aren't far away.

I can't go on the bus...

You needn't go into it. I understand. The disease is the main thing.

The disease, and the authorities.

Were they always like that? (No.)... Not till recently?

No. Everybody will get it in the neck, if they don't put up a fight against it.

I think the British aren't all that close to their relatives. There's always been a rift with their relatives. But you wouldn't know that. [British stand-offishness.] But what a cawd night it is, it's horrible... I mustn't keep you, because I don't want to spend up another night.... I love you so much.   
Are you warm enough in your house?... Does it look nice?... It would have been a hell of a job (buying it when house prices went up). I was lucky, tho it wasn't luck, I worked at it, hard. Is it quiet?... That's what I wanted, because it's hell if you have people ramping around you, all night.

We've got good neighbors.

Anyway, I'll let you go. God bless you, and I love you, and take care.

You're wonderful, Mum, and I love you.

I like that. I didn't expect you to, but I like it. Anyway, I love you, Dino. All right, darling. I love you so much. Good-bye.

3 July.

(A kind member of staff offers to get a radio for Ella, in her bedroom.)

Oh, is she? I'm so used to having nothing.... Yes, I will use it. For the news, and things like that.... I don't know your number. You will ring. I'm fumbling about with things like that, now.... All right, I'm thinking about you, wondering what you're doing....   
It's very cold. They have the doors wide open and I'm sat right near them. People seem to stick it better than me.... How are you?... I'm happy when you're not so bad.... Summer is going to go away, before we've had it. I've never known anything like it.

I'm sat with a coat on, and a rug over my legs. I'm in the hall, at the bottom of the stairs. Why? Because that's where the [land-line] phone is.

I wish I had a rug on me legs. I might ask them... They always have the doors wide open.... Two people are rubbing their legs, here. (She laughs.) That means it's cold. By gum! It is cold for summer-time. I think the climate's changed. It does change... It's a cawd spot, it really is. (But bad for business, to say so.) Why, it's cawd as Christmas.... Can you hear 'em screaming?... I wish I was at home.

So do I.

I bet you do. Where are you?

I'm on the outskirts.

Is it a village?

It's in the suburbs.

Is it nice and quiet?

Yes it is. (I give her home address.)

(Ella exclaims:) You're not there, are you? And I'm stuck here. It's my fate to be stuck... All I've done, in my life, is make things, and never enjoy them.... Can you hear that (screaming)? (Ironic:) it's lovely, that's what you have for accompaniment, living where you don't want to be. It's a rum old hole.

She's lonely. (I remember the woman. She's always on her own, in the hall.)

No, she's always (like that). I could do that, but I'm too well-behaved. You have to be.... I won't keep you, then.... Are you warm enough (in that house, you're in)?

I'm warm enough.

I have to keep covering me ear up, it's that cold (in the room). Some of 'em have sleeveless shirts on. God! I don't know how they do it, women in particular.... What sort of a house is it?

It's a semi.

I never saw the inside. I judged it by the outside... (Aside:) What's that, love? That's nice.   
I got a sweet given. I'm putting it away.... I can see the trees swaying – it's like autumn. Something has gone wrong with the weather. It shouldn't be like this.... You can tone down, a bit, because they're sitting around.

It's a bit difficult...

Well, I haven't been out of the room. No, there's about 20 people sat in a group. [Ellas number sense is unreliable.] They don't talk to you, tho. I don't know anyone, really.... One or two locals (from a district village). I don't talk to them.... It's very windy in here.... (Reverting to the topic of her house, interrupted by the sweet-giver:) I only know I bought it. That's all I know. That's what I get out of what I buy. I never see anybody; relatives... Let it rest.

(A member of staff, I know, borrows the phone. Her first words are drowned out by a scream.   
I ask: What's that scream?   
She doesn't comment. She tells me that I can come, with social distancing.   
Yes, I know, in principle, but there's still a risk.   
She acknowledges that there is.)

Somebody's just brought a cup of tea... And brought a cake. I only like the ones I make myself. [So did I.] I can make a lovely cake, if I've got the stuff to do it... They've started gathering in front of the telly. But there's no heat on... It's terrible. I'm sick of being here, I can tell you. You can't get out of here...   
I don't want a lot of aggro, at my age. It's not worth it.... Are you there? Oh, good. They're yapping away. Can you hear 'em? Yapping: it means big loud-mouths, but they're not... Can you hear that one? (Another outbreak of jabber.) Music while you work....   
Am I keeping you too long on t'phone? (Humorless manic laughter cries out loud.) Can you hear that? Isn't it lovely? You might get that, all night, if you're lucky.   
You're trapped, and you can't do what you want. You're like prisoners. This is life for the elderly. It's absolutely awful. I've never been out, ever since I came. Too much bother [for them]. Ooh, God! Oh, it's terrible.... It's been manouvred for you.   
[Don't I know it, social services!]   
(Indescribable wail, somewhat in repeated syllables.) That's terrible.... Crazy. Nowt you can do about it, you're a prisoner, and when you haven't any family left, just yourself, it's worse.... I [am] a door or two away from this waiting-room [Ellas perfect description of it].... I don't know why it can't be nice (for a change)....   
(A promised radio [not heard more of]:) I might put it on, a bit, but it (the bedroom) isn't a very nice situation. [It's a north-facing bedroom.] And not a warm bed; not a warm room.... You can't move, can you? It's wicked, really, isn't it? You feel like emigrating.

I keep complaining.

(Mum encourages me to look after myself.)

Mum, you are myself.

When I'm not here, don't make it bad for yourself, because life's short. You want to get a bit of peace, in your life. Let the young 'uns do it, and the busybodies.... I'm holding it wrong (the phone slipped).... I think the climate's going worse. I think it's changed. It could have done...

You're my wonderful Mum.

That's lovely. I wish you were with me. They talk about a free country. There's nowt free about it. I think it's worse than I've ever known it. Even when money was scarce, at least you could do what you like.... (Screaming out.) I could do that, but I think it's rude. I'd feel uncomfortable doing it.... I miss you that much. I miss you.

I love you very much.

I'm pleased you do. It's nice to think you love me. I've got a good 'un. Ah, bless you... Can you hear that [jabber]?... Ah, well, I won't keep you any longer.

Don't forget the radio.

Thank you, darling. So, I'll (leave you, now).

Just as you like.

I've gotten used to it (the silence). I like the quiet, now.

So do I.

You do things for a long time (you get used to them). You get like that, when you don't use anything.

It's there, if you want it.

I might not use it....Bye-bye and God bless you, bye-bye...

* * *
4 July.

Can you keep your voice down? A lot of people are around.

(Ellas voice is low, slow and tired-sounding.)

Maybe I'm a bit tired, being sat all day. It's a bit uninteresting. Are you all right? I often think about you, wondering what you're up to.

(I've been hoovering up the plaster dust, still left after the joiners. I've been sorting Dads Romanian stamps.)

They must be worth something... Sold them, have you? (Yes, the better ones.) Well, you might as well. There's no use in keeping them forever. (Has the government got onto things yet?)

(The virus is only very slowly getting better. There were still 137 virus-related deaths yesterday.)

I've been wondering what's going to happen; if things would get better. It's a funny going on, isn't it?... They're going to bed, here, now it's 7 o'clock, some of them. They're getting on a bit, now.   
I'm among people, so it's a bit difficult. I don't speak too loud. I miss you so much. I keep wondering how long people can live, without seeing their family. I've had difficulty in that, all my life. First, there was Dad. Then my husband. He's not living now, is he? But I've got my little Dino, my little son. I love him. I love him so much. You're the best thing I've got.

You're the best thing I haven't got, unfortunately.

Oh, isn't that nice?... It's a dark cold day. They're putting the lights on. I didn't hear from you, yesterday, did I?

Yes, you did...

I don't have much news to tell you, because nowt happens.

Have you got the radio?

No, not that I know of.

Ask them...

Who do I ask? I don't like to ask them... Why, she's maybe forgotten. I've had that before... I might be wrong. I get the feeling she's forgotten.... Well, I think I would see. There isn't much to see, in that room.... Anyway, I'm going to the toilet, now.

I'll maybe mention it, tomorrow. [Ella is shy.]

So, ring me again, soon as you can, tomorrow, won't you? My wonderful son...

My marvellous Mum.

Oh, very nice. God bless you, and don't forget me. I'm thinking about you. Bye-bye...

5 July.

(Aside: The young woman, who offered to bring a radio for Ella, told me that she looked but they were all broke. It was a nightmare. Sarah is going to get one. I thanked her very much.)

Good lad. I'm glad to hear you. I miss you. I'm not in contact with anyone else, only you. Can you tone your voice down, just a bit? They're sitting around me. Don't shout.

It's difficult, getting the right level.

I don't want to annoy anybody, and I don't want to go away, in the cold.... It's you I'm concerned about.

I'm not so bad.

I don't see you, and haven't anybody else that bothers with me. I've never indulged in a deep relation, because it never works out. Always, something goes wrong.... Isn't it cold for the time of year? Isn't it windy? I bet it's cold at sea.

It'll be rough.

It will be, Dino. I haven't any news. I'm very sorry. I'd say so, if there was. I was thinking about you.

I keep trying to do useful things.

You are not to worry (about that).

That's how I'm made.

If circumstances call for it.... Well, yeah, but that's different... I'm stuck in this room, you see. I never go out, because the weather is awful. You can't sit out, in bad weather; it's too cold for oldies.... There's hardly anybody in the club... I think it's this illness (keeping people away)... I just feel it, on me back, and the windows shut. It's a cold hole....   
I miss you. That's the main thing. But it's nice when you ring.... Which house are you in now?... Oh, you're still in there. It's a good house... All right... Good little Dino. I know I shouldn't talk about that. It's because I haven't any news.

You're a lovely Mum.

You're a lovely little sunshine. (Her sons infancy, on the farm:) It's soon gone, isn't it? Time rolls on. It feels funny, not hearing all the local news. It seems funny, because you don't live there.... That's a funny thing to say, not caring for them, when you never knew 'em. Why, you've never met any of them. (No.) Well, they were a bit odd. A bit up-and-down.... Are you there, Dino?

I'm here, sunshine.

Well, I don't know what to say. One's just got up, and walked out. I know her well, and they are funny.... (Where she's going, it's a post office, in the foyer.)

The post-man does come there sometimes.

Well, they use the entrance.... Is it a nice house? Comfortable, is it?

It is comfortable, now.

Nobody can travel about, now.

They've been lifting restrictions. But things aren't good enough, yet.

They shouldn't be lifting them, if it's not good enough.

It's the economy, they have to get going.

I don't think you can thrive, without the economy... I've got a swelling in me mouth, because of a real sharp tooth, and I think it's caught. It's painful when I talk. That's why it catches. I'll keep my mouth shut, except to you.

I don't want to cause you pain.

I don't know why you should be away from your nice little kids.... Are you comfortable? (Yeah...) I'm glad I got that house. It's not too fancy. It doesn't draw attention. No, it's just nice and ordinary, and warm and comfortable.

It is now.

Keep your tone down... A few members are sat in here.... This place, in my opinion, is going downwards. The way things are is spoiling business.... Ooh, they're bringing the table out, to bring in a bite to eat and drink.... I wish you were with me.

I wish you were with me.

It isn't fair, is it?

No. But they're keeping people apart from the infection. That's a separate issue.

(Ella acknowledges:) They don't want to spread that.... Is the house keeping well?

I wish we were (keeping as well).

I love you so much. I love you very much.

I love you, too, Mum.

Bless you, and God keep you safe.

I couldn't have put it better, myself.

But you better ring off, because they're all shouty. Bye-bye, see you tomorrow....

6 July.

... Keep your voice down... I miss you, you know. Things don't go very well. Everything seems to be hard, nowadays. (Worse even than it used to be.)... Are you safe and well? I hope you enjoy the sort of life you're leading.

I've got nobody but you. I know you deserve to be happy, and I love you so much. Keep yourself in good health.

I try to.

Who's a good lad? You used to say: Richard!... Oh, they're shouting, here. Not a nice place, now.... Better than nowt. At least it's warm.... If things get back to normal (maybe we'll see each other).

(I fear the worst.... I haven't listened to the news. Things change so little.)

I don't. You can't alter it, so I don't, either....

(At some point, I try to tell Ella that my happiness is bound up with her own.)

Oh, bless you, darling. They're all here in the room, so I have to keep me voice down. I love you. You're my little lad. I'd better not keep you, on the line, because they're all sat round me.... It won't be long, before we meet.... It's a funny going-on. You keep yourself away (from the infection) as best you can. You ring me again, because the room is full of people. I'll have (to ring off now). I do miss you, but I've nowt to tell you. (We both say:) No news is good news. (I won't keep you on an expensive call.) I like to hear you but I don't have nowt to tell you.   
A lot of women gabbing round me. That's the noise, they're making. They never play any games (like cards or drafts). If I give a hint, they look as if you're off your chump. It's gone out of fashion. They think you're mad. All they do is just gas. They're all coming in, with trolleys. I wish I was coming to gas with you. I'd like to be with you. Even if you don't talk, I like you to be with me. I hope you're keeping well.

I keep complaining...

As long as you don't make trouble for yourself, or for anybody, for that matter. I love you, you know, I love you so much.

I love you, Mum.

I know you do, honey. Can you hear 'em?

I try not to get upset...

Don't. Tho you think you're doing the right thing, you're not. Look on the bright side of life. You know the song, don't you?

Not very well. I can't think of a song, to sing for you.

Ah, you'll think of one, someday.

(It's about a month since I saw any cats, a ginger one, a black one, and a tortoise-shell.

Cats have always liked me.... I've nothing to do, just gossip a bit, that's all. It's worse than being on your own, in a way.... What sort of a house are you in?

I had the plasterers in, so I left the doors and windows open, to dry out.

(Ella warned against intruders. I promised to heed her warnings.)

We had a thunderstorm, yesterday.

We need it, really. We haven't had much rain. The crops need rain to make it ripe and grow. (People think they grow on their own.)

It's been a dull day, today.

It's cold in this room. There's no heat.... We're separated from the men. They have a mens room now.... Spoilt it really, I think.... I'm glad you love me. Nice is that, and you want your children to love you.... It soon gets dark.

They're quite late nights now.

(Yes, they are.) I'll ring off, now, because they're all coming round.... Bye-bye, my love, bye-bye...

* * *
7 July.

(I tell Ella that I don't want to separate her, from any company.)

... No, I aren't in any company. They are just all sat around. Take care. You be a good lad, and I love you.

(You will always be in my heart, till I die.)

Thank you, love. I do like to hear that you love me. It's really nice. I didn't expect you to love me, because I love you. I've loved you since you were born. I still would have loved you. But I'm pleased.... I don't think I'm bothering them. They make more noise than me - coughing and sneezing and shouting (she laughs a little). Where are you? In town? You know about things (more than I do.)

I went out to post a letter, today, and the road was much busier with cars.

(That's) because it's peak of season, July and August. It never got started, till July, August. That was the main month. May and June are a bit slack, just picking up. It gets busy when they come (from around the region). I've been thinking about you. I'm sitting in an armchair, where the television is.

In the corner...

And there's quite a lot sitting around. You don't know 'em personally, but you know 'em thru seeing 'em.... I've got a razor-sharp tooth.... No, I never go to the dentist. (They find too much to do.)...

I don't know what he's (doing). He's making a row, now. Don't be worried. He's only patting on t'table.... Hello? What have you got to say? Nowt.

I'm on my own...

I know you are. So am I. You pick something up (otherwise).

I wish you were with me.

Yeah, I wish we were together.... Do you get a sore ear, when you're phoning? I'm always pressing it to me ear. I'll stop it!... They all seem to be like me, listening and putting up with things. I don't think any are wanting to be here. They're just like me....  
We'd better turn the phone off, till I can hear you. [I ring twice but Ella still doesn't hear me, too well. So, we ring-off to try, tomorrow, at a more suitable time, when there's less people around. We always sign off, with our love for each other.]

* * *
8 July.

I love you.

... I love you, too.... Oh, I've been there. (Ella gives the street address of her home). It's a good spot, isn't it? That's the spot. I've never been in it.

You did go inside it.

When I first saw it, I didn't. (Ella gives her home location, in fields, not far from the farm, where she used to live. The house has a field opposite, and that maybe linked it, in Ellas mind, to the farm. I don't "correct" Ella, because her impaired mind is still making a memory aid, with a visual class or category of her two homes, in which both are bound to fields, which she favors.) The house is available, without being isolated... It's not far from the farm. I crossed fields for a short-cut. That's when I saw it.... (You go by) a road leads to the Abbey...   
I don't listen to the news. They don't have it on, there. They're sitting here in a group. I've not talked to anybody. They just sit and look at yan another. (At some point, Ella comments:) They're alike in they don't like shifting.... Have you found holding a phone to your ear is painful?... You're on my best ear, now, the right one. You don't have to shout loud. They can hear it. What's new, pussycat? (Ella asks if I've seen any pussycats, lately.

I yowled the title line of the Tom Jones song. I mentioned again, that it's a while ago, since I saw the ginger, the black, and the tortoise-shell.)

Too loud, you've already woken 'em up, 'cos they're not so sweet as they look. They're going to bed now, some of 'em. I don't know how they stick it.

(Having to tone down, I say that I just listen for Mum to do all the talking.)

You needn't bother to do that, you lazy little imp. I ring you, to get to know what you're doing. So you've had it!...

It's allus cold, isn't it? It's too near the sea. It makes a noise, when you go by. Menacing, isn't it? It's as if to say: I can get you, when I want you. And I don't like the big waves. Don't like watching 'em...   
They just sit, shut their eyes. Never talk, never do owt, just sit in a chair. They don't associate at all. I don't think they ever speak. Amazing, isn't it?

[I saw this almost comatose state of some residents.]

Don't shout, keep it down. They're looking at me. I'm not a good listener. [I recall, later: That's right.] I have to be a good talker. I have to be good at everything. I used to think that, when my Mam was alive: cooking, cleaning, feeding the [farm live-]stock...   
I don't think anybody realises how hard work a mother has with children. And they find out, when you have it to do....   
(The situation:) We can't do nowt about it.... It gets dark, soon. They are all waiting for bedtime. They just sit watching the most terrible tv. I can't watch it, it's rubbish. (And Ella can't see it, well, without suitable glasses.)

(I say I'm trying to do other things to distract me.)

I have nowt to distract me. The same old folks. They all sit separately, and they don't talk – they do, but not much.... Just say what you like to say.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

I love you, as well. I miss you that much. (It doesn't look as tho I'll see you, soon, so) I look forward to the phone, instead. It's been cold, today, unless you're working. Sitting about is cold. I don't go out much, because the weather isn't all that good. They're going to bed, one by one; sort of invalids.... I have to keep my voice down. I don't know what to say, because nowt happens here. It's horrible, really.   
Nobody talks to one another. They talk as a group. It's funny, it's queer, really. They keep looking at me. I've never seen anybody, in the group, have a phone call. I don't think they like it. Are you there, pussycat?... Ooh, what's that? (some disturbance)... It's still light.

But it's very unseasonal for July, like June was.

I's trying to get a better place...

(Words to the effect: I'll always love you, Mum.)

I'm really pleased to hear you love me. I don't do nowt in particular. I love you so much. I wish we could meet, but we can't, not yet anyway. The world is very unstable. It doesn't know which way to go....

(Of news about relatives:) They have their own lives.

They are not interested in anyone away, that they don't see. Sort of futile, isn't it?

They have their own lives. There's no contact.

I thought you said: contract (she laughs). It's cold here, isn't it?

I try to get my courage together, in a hostile world.

I don't bother, any more, because it's like that, everywhere. It's funny, here, a funny life. They are shouting about, now. I don't know what's up. They're chattering about summot, I don't know what it is. I'm trying to get a comfortable position, so they can't hear me. I don't want them to hear. You can tone down, you're a bit loud....   
I keep thinking, when we're going to have a free world. It's funny, isn't it? I don't know what's happened to it. It's not right. It's all wrong. What's done it, I don't know.

It sounds quiet, where you are.

... They don't talk to one another. They just sit. I don't know when it'll ever end. I can't see any change coming...

I love you, Mum, whatever happens.

My little baby in the pram, when you started taking notice of things. You always told me what you saw. You used to tell me when: "There's a car coming." Because you copied me. It's a nice time, is that, with children, when they start, you know.... Yeah, they are yattering away.... My little Dino.

My lovely Mum. You're always close to me, Mum. I want you to be always close to me.

I wish it was in person, tho. Never mind...

I'm a bit concerned (whether you're looking after things). I don't do any writing now. They're always pestering....

(I try to reassure Ella – and myself.)

You will be cold, as well.

Yes, it's been a dull day.

(The tv:) it's rubbish. Nobody is watching it, really. Funny, they put it on, but they don't watch it. I'll close, now, because they're coming in... What is it they say? I love you to bits... (Endearments exchanged:) bye-bye....

9 July.

... Keep your voice down. I'm not talking loud... I don't go out. It's a bit dangerous for me, I might fall, it's a bit of a rough road here, so I play safe. A few people, here, not many. I don't know where they go.

(Ella normally asked me what I have been doing: I soaked stamps off their envelope backs. And I have been sorting them. It's quite a long job.)

Yeah, get it so you've got it properly under control.... It's cold inside, here. They never have any heating. [Ella doesn't feel it.] I've forgotten what it's like to be warm. (Refering to the company:) There are a few left-overs, as I call myself.

Not to me you aren't, tho.

No, I love my little Dino. I'm not talking very loud. I don't want to annoy people near me, only a yard off. There's a bit of a fight in their room. You can hear 'em. (How is that house?)

It's fine...

(Mum tells of how she was walking in the street, and saw the sale price for the house. And just bought it.) They put the price up.

You just caught the bus, Mum.

They made a biggish jump. They are about unbuyable, now.... There is a bit of a row going on, next door. Can you hear the shouting? (No.) It's a bit too distant for you to hear. (Of cohabitants:) They just speak, now and again....   
(Ellas house is obviously on her mind, because she asks after it again, to the effect: Is it a nice house?) I was walking up the street. I saw the notice. I suddenly realised there was a bit of a rise. So, I jumped in. I could have had to pay another £10,000, if I hadn't....   
You're loud, Dino.... It's getting darker and darker, here. It can be cold and warm in here. (Both of us have nowt to tell. You can tell something to a person, and she will reply, [in a surly voice]: Ah know that! But when you ask her something, she will say, [in a plaintive voice]: Ah don't know.)

I don't know who that is, but it's true (she laughs).... I've nowt to tell you, because it's so boring, here; there is nowt.... Can you hear that row? It's a teacher, he's blowing his top. I think he's using his cane. (I don't think he's allowed to hit them, now.)... (A slight sound, nearby:) That's my neighbor just come.   
(Ella, hungry for news about myself, asked me again what I'd been doing: I've just the same old story. It'll be a week sorting loose stamps.) Can you hear that noise? I don't know but it's not very good. I wish I had something to tell you, but I think the world of my little lad.... I think it's some school or other. He's blowing his top. Teaching must be a maddening sort of career, because they get real irate. What a carry on. They seem to do what they like here. You can hear the stick?

It's just a drum-beat.

– Hitting something, frightening 'em to death. (Ella says lightly. But she is reliving the nightmare of her own violently bad-tempered teacher, Miss Wells, for most of her school life.) I don't get out, and don't have any wireless or tv; don't have nowt.... They don't have teachers like that, now. It must be play-acting. Probably a play. They're making a racket...   
Are you there, Dino? I don't know what to tell you, because I don't go nowhere; don't do nowt. Can you hear that bloke? (No.) A good job!... I'll let you go. I'll ring off. I'll have a better reception, later. He's shouting his head off. I think it's a school, next door. I love you so much, honey. We'll ring again, when he's quieter. (I remember a man, who sometimes raps on the table, when in the lounge.) I have a lot, starting to come round me.... You take care of yourself, for me.

And you take care of yourself, for me.

Awh, thank you, love. God bless you (and other endearments shared). Bye-bye... Bye-bye...

* * *
10 July.

... You're too loud...

I've had a theory...

A new idea, is that it?... Ah, I was just guessing. That's as far as I've gone.

It was a good guess.

That's as far as I got.... They never have any fires.... They're all piling into the room. And all they do is sit and stare into vacancy. I can't understand it. Queer... Is it Tuesday?

It's Friday.

What do we have to fry on a Friday?

(I miss that Ella is pulling my leg:) It's not the same word.

It's a dreary old day, just dusk... Do you ever find any wild mushrooms in the field?

I don't know them well enough.

You don't want to touch them, then. I knew them all. I've been among them all my life, in our fields and woods.... I can't hear 'em, 'cos they're quarrelling, here. Can you hear 'em?

I can hear a bit of chattering in the background.

They're going out, now, thank goodness.

(I've been eating red-currants. They have a tart taste.)

You aren't meant to eat a lot of them.

(I had a good day, with a new idea. I don't know if I can take it further...)

Nobody is pushing you to do it. Nobody cares what we do.... It's getting dark and it's cold as Christmas.... I thought you were living in the big city, like me. You're still in the same town, I think. They're all sat round here. All they talk is a bit of rubbish, now and again.

Don't say that.

I only say it to you. I didn't even say what it was. There's a young laddie there, squealing for hours.

I don't know whether I should say this. There aren't any children, here.

They do make a noise like children, don't they? I didn't know it was an old peoples home. I didn't know they made a noise like children.... I've a nasty habit of holding this too close to my ear. Can you hear the noise, in here? (Out-break of humorless laughing and wailing.)

(In unconscious humor of the contrast, Ella says:) You're too loud.... Can you hear 'em talking? Why, they're shouting... (They're elderly people, they're older than kids.)

It's cold over the sea, I'll bet. The water makes it cool, and we have a lot of water all-round us.... I haven't been into town for ages. (When I spoke again:) You sounded like a different person.... It's cold in the room. They never have any heat. It saves money. They can't afford it.

You need it, because you're sensitive to the cold. (I had a good day, today, with a new idea.)

Oh, good lad. You want to take it easy. You don't want to do too much thinking.

It did me good, today.

Oh well, you want to relax. Do some gentle leg exercises and arm exercises. Get your blood running properly. (Yeah.) It's a kind of back-end feeling of the weather, like autumn weather.

(More outbreaks:) They may be like children but they are not. (I can remember the woman, who I think is making that noise.... I often made visits.)...   
There were 126 reported deaths, yesterday, linked to the coronavirus.

That's awful. They'll have to be careful (in the care home).... I can't hear you, such a racket here. They're all yattering and chattering; such a row. Did you hear 'em? They've stopped now, for a rest. They don't talk together. I never get any talk with them. If I do, it's accidental... Yattering... I'm waiting till they've gone. For peace and quiet.

Well, Mum, what have you got to tell me?

(Ella lost her number sense:) There's about thirty people, talking when they have to. Not practically to anybody. Well, you can't talk about anything. What can you talk about? You can't talk about the government... They chat a bit together. But normally they sit and look at the telly. But you can't see or hear it. Dad would have thrown it out, by now.

Tomorrow, I'll go back to sorting stamps.

Where did you get them all?

When I was a boy, in your shop.

And you collected 'em. Did you get a lot?

Thousands.

For how long?

For 10 to 20 years.

I didn't know you got so many. You would get some nice stamps then, because we had a lot of parcels, big and small. They were different then, more intricate. We don't get any parcels, now. Well, you get sick of 'em. Are they worth anything?

Not much. Only the really old ones are.

How much?... No, you needn't bother.

They were all right. Better than I expected.

They get dearer as time goes by. The longer you have 'em, the dearer they get. Dad was good with things like that. But I never had the time. (I was too busy paying the bills.)... Tricky Dickie. Who's a tricky Dickie?

Don't ask me!

It's very cool inside today. We never have any fire. I don't think they feel it. Even the ones who aren't staff, they're younger than me, a lot of them. I haven't got a lot of news. Can't think of owt. I've never been out since I came. Oh, it's very difficult...   
You needn't be sorry. Can't help it. It's too cold to go out. If you fall or trouble comes, you've nobody to help you.... Is the house all right? Keeping well, is it?... Is the house easy to clean? Once you get it right, it's easy. All you have to do is a bit of dusting and vacuuming. Is it quiet?...

(I'm on my own.)

No, I mean, at any time?

It's a quiet spot.

I remember thinking it was quiet. You can tell. When I visited, there wasn't a soul walking about. So, I could tell it was quiet.

The price doesn't matter. Don't worry about it.

I'm not worrying about it. No, it's just my active money brain; keeping up with prices. It's a life-time habit.... Can you hear that racket? Bit of a row going on. ("Kids") Getting dark, isn't it? I think you have the same weather as I've got. Are you getting plenty of decent food? I hope so.

I am, Mum, thank you very much.

I get what they have. I don't know whether they know or not. I guess they don't know about it. - They know, all right.

(Ella asks who's paying:) I don't want to go into (the pay dispute). Is it still going on? Is somebody wanting money off you?

The council... I don't want to explain it all again.

Oh, don't bother, then.

I'm trying to get you back home. I do my best to look after you.

Yes, but I want you to be secure, after I am not here.... As long as you know what you're doing. You've got to keep it all in "prospective" (a perspective on prospects!)

The best way of looking after myself is to look after you.

They're having a family row.

There's no kids there.

What is it, then?

It's old people.

I can see them doing it.

You can't see any children.

Well, they're teenagers; I don't know what they are....

[One of these days, I told about the screeching woman, who always sits in the hall, facing the door. Once, she saw her daughter there. With renewed animation, she marched up to the other side of the door. I mentioned this in Home Free... It has since dawned on me, that all she did was keep a vigil for her daughter coming. The rest was despondency and howls of frustration.]

I haven't anything to tell you, because I haven't done nowt. And they're all sat about... single... They're living on their own. They come in here for a bit of a change. Gotten to shouting.... All in a lifetime.... How is my little sunshine?

I had a good day.

How's the garden, is it all right? Is there something good to eat?

Red-currants.

(You should eat only a cupful...) Oh well... black-currants?

They're not as good as they used to be. I don't have time to prune them.

Just cut 'em back. Just prune the ends, leaving the main stem is most important. The little ends aren't. Just attend to them, a bit, then you get some nice big brambles....   
(Of animated talk:) Makes it more exciting; puts a show on. I never get into conversations that start rows. I finish it off, not making it obvious. It's not worth bothering with. It isn't a court-house. (No.)... It's very hard to get what you want. I remember my own parents struggling to do what they want to do....   
Oh, heck (some disturbance). Never mind, I'm not listening to 'em. I mustn't keep you, all night, spending money. I just like to hear you talk.

I love you, Mum.

Life is against you, all the time. Even in ordinary life, you have to fight your way thru.... What a row! You'll ring me, tomorrow. All right?

You do want to come back home with me?

Of course... I'd love to be with you. But it's nice I can get you on the phone. I'd be lost without you. You're my little sunshine. (Farewells.)

(A member of staff, I know, says hello, on the phone, just before we ring off, asking if I'm all right. I tell her that I like the staff of the care home. I don't mean to slight you. But the truth is Mum and I would like to be back home together.

She says: I know you would, love.)

Ella says: she (the staff) remembers you, from coming.... Can you hear all that row?... And I love you so much...

* * *
11 July.

I've been thinking about you; wondering why you haven't rung. I thought you'd gone away. Gone to sleep.

You sound very sleepy.

I was asleep when she (staff) came, on and off, in the chair. It's dark, isn't it? It's very noisy. Can you hear it? I've been wondering how you are. What time is it?

Just after six. [Ella thought it much later, from being asleep, which is why she thought I was late.] (I just keep doing things.)

I'm pleased you're all right. Oh, (she laughs, usually softly, keeping her sense of humor). They don't do anything here... Dark, isn't it?

You're sleepy, and you think it's later...

(She laughs.)... They don't talk. They just sit and don't speak. Not now, there isn't, and hasn't been, for a long time. Years ago, they used to do that. But don't, now. Out of date. They've that much entertainment, at home. They've got everything. It's a different world.   
We lived at a lonely farm. We didn't even have a wireless – for a long time. (It had a battery and an accumulator, a transparent liquid-filled glass cube.) It was awkward on a bike, because liquid... heavy an' all, to get from the village garage. It's all finished, a long time ago.

I remember it.

I can remember wheeling the thing, hanging on the handle-bars. I could see, then, I was going to drop it down, and break it. I just pushed the bike, but I had to hold it.... There's a fight on telly.

There always is.

That's the fashion, noisy telly. They all sit with their eyes shut. They never talk. They don't sit in twos and threes, and chatter, now. They're close to one another, but they don't talk.... There's a yattering woman.

I've seen her, in the hall.

Oh yeah, the railway station. She seems to be in the room, here now, very close.

How are you, Mum?

Not so bad, but a bit dopey. [A bit too doped, in care home, perhaps.] They've just come in, and are taking a man out, because he's tired. taking him to bed, I think, because he's asleep standing up. It's out of date is talking. It used to be very fashionable. Used to be the thing. They don't talk, now. They might annoy one another, if they did.

Outside, I smelt the car pollution, today. It's much busier than it was.

It's the height of the holiday season.... They keep the telly on, but people don't take any notice of it. They're immune to it are some people. I am, a bit. It's nothing, is it?

The news is always bad.

Aye, it is, it's rubbish, isn't it?... They've all nodded off. Nobody talks. You have this circle of people but they never talk.

I know, when I came to see you.

Yes, it was always like that.

(Woman with the undulating out-cry. Ella takes it for the telly. I say not.... Ellas aching teeth bother her:) they're funny, not right. Old-age and poverty.

(What should we talk about?)

– God knows, I don't. They've all nodded off, here. Shut their eyes, and then off to bed. Talking in groups is gone out of fashion. All out of date, now, it seems to be. They just sit there, with their own thoughts. It's changing fashions. It has been like that, quite a while. Less communication. Less talking with one another.

We're having a bit of a struggle finding things to say.

I suppose we are. I'm never any good, much. Unless you've got something to tell. It used to be, people used to tell what happens. But nowt happens.   
You know that little drawers and sideboard, Mum bought me? Not a big one: two drawers and two doors on it. If you don't know it, don't bother. In the 1930s, it was bought for me, when I was 12 or 13.... It's found its way here, and they don't know the history of it. They've fancied it up. But I could tell them it's really mine. Mum paid about £12 for it. It's a lovely piece for that.   
(Ironic:) You're full of news, aren't you?... Don't shout...

I've had another good day, studying a new idea.

Oh, really, you've been doing that all your life. And what does it amount to? Nowt, like me. But you have to have summot to do, to pass your life. You have to have something to do, or you'd go nuts.... Why, Aye, Man... They say it, I know. Have you heard it?

It's like: Eeh, by gum.

I don't hear anything, but even when I did, you don't hear it much.... Talk in twos or threes, it annoys other people, you see. They used to do it, tho.

The weather was better in May.

(Ella laughs:) Yeah, I think it was. (Ella keeps repeating that they don't talk. I fear this is having an adverse influence on her.) Well, I haven't anyone (to talk to).

I'm sorry I haven't been able to get you home.

It's a lost case, isn't it?

It grieves me very much.

Well, you don't want to let it... That's life, isn't it?... They used to play games, going back a bit, now. But they don't now, which is sad, I think. You don't just sit like a dummy, as they do. In the country, on farms, people used to talk, and entertain themselves. You used to get happy with one another. We played games like cards and drafts. You didn't sit long doing nowt, I can tell you. I prefered that.... Are you still there?

I'm listening, Mum. To be honest with you, I'm sad for you.

(Ella didn't hear.)

Never mind, Mum. Don't you have anyone to talk to?

Nobody. They might, in daytime, not in the evening. They just sit there, relaxing. They don't even watch the telly. It's getting dark, outside. What they talk about, people already know. There's all the company, and none of them talk. They spend all evening, and then go off to bed, and never chatted. It's a changing world. It's been like that, quite a while.... A woman's shouting.

I wonder what I can tell you.

I've got a sore ear, holding it at me lug-hole... Nothing happens here. They don't talk to you. Talking to them might get them going, but people don't do that. I don't think you could.

No. – You're making me do it. (She laughs.) I'm willing to talk about anything.

Any news?

I haven't listened to the news, because little changes.

It will be, yeah (laughs). It's not a fashion. Whatever it is, it's not very sociable. You can understand it. They don't know what to talk about, and even if they did, they don't want to repeat what they've heard.... (Talking of the summer-like May:) if you get it early, you never get it after. You get only one kind of season. It sort of gets mixed up.

Like you, I love you very much.

Yeah, I love you, too. I always have loved you. Time marches on, and I still miss you and love you.... It's a very quiet evening.

I wish that I could give you something good.

Awh, don't worry, Dino. You can't alter it. Things will do as they like. I think you can't stop it.... I miss you. People used to be together all their lives. Well, on a farm, you had your parents all your life. I miss them, but you can't have them forever. Let's see, what can I say? I don't know. The evening is fairly nippy. It isn't bad weather, but it isn't warm.

Let's us two talk. As you say, it's a funny old life.

Yeah, it is, but you have to make the best of things. A story? (Laughs.) I don't know what to think about. Well, what? I don't know nowt, do you? Nowt to tell. All that education, and you've nowt to tell me.

I could tell you my education.

Oh, I don't want to hear that... The news is on, but I don't listen to it. I've the telly on my right ear, easier than on my left ear.... Well, nowt happens up here. Just the same routine. No, it's very limited. They don't talk. They don't converse. You can understand it. People don't talk when there's nowt to talk about. (The phone cuts off.)

They've given me another receiver.

(I suggest the story of the 3 little piggies. Ella recites a nursery verse, all thru:) This little piggy went to market... I used to do it with your toes [a toe a line - literally, "toeing the line"].

I wish I could have done much more for you.

Don't worry about that. I'm not bothered, I've always had to do for myself, that's why. I was born when my mother died young. I was only 13 or 14, and then never saw her again. (Ella was actually about 18, but her raw emotions may have left her feeling younger and more vulnerable. She implies they were only just getting to be companions.)

They brought me a cup of tea, and then they've taken it away to someone else.

I keep myself very busy.

(Aside:) Is that for me? Biscuits? All right, plain ones. – I just sent away an iced cake. I don't like 'em. I only like what I make myself. (Aside:) That's fine. – Oh, I don't like 'em. – I've just sent away another one. (Aside:) Oh, you shouldn't. – She's brought me some hard old biscuits. Most of them terrible, make you sick. They don't know how to make a biscuit, do they? They will try to be fancy, and it's all rubbish. I don't think they know what it was like.... Has thi' run out of news?

Things change too slowly. – The disease –

Oh, that, that's terrible, that's horrible.

You still have to wash your hands.

I've not been fixed on it. A bit lapsadais... About "30" all sat about, yapping. I don't know anybody, tho. You don't make any friends, or anything.... I thought you'd gone... I don't know nowt. They're getting ratty, near. I don't get involved – rowing – it isn't worth it. – I love you, too. I've nowt to tell you, except that.

It's the only thing that matters.

I can't see you much, I'm sorry to say.

It grieves me.

Because of all the trouble and viruses. (Ella, justifiably fatalistic:) You can see things going to work or not... I can't remember (I've ever lived at home).

You've forgotten.... I try to over-come it, and just be a loving son.

Travel is dangerous....

Not just that, the authorities won't let you come home.

They like to throw their weight about, a bit. That's all they've got to do. They think they can make things better for you, than you can make it for yourself. That's always been their trouble.... (I don't want to cause you more expense.) God bless you... Ring me, again. And I love you.

All my love.

All my love, to my darling lad. Bye-bye...

* * *
12 July.

(Ella asks me, again, to quieten down. Either, not to annoy the neighbors, or not to disturb the circle of sitting slumberers.)

I think I'll take an early night.

You're like me.

I've been working hard...

(Ella picks up, on the import of this:) Nobody listens... I think you have to be a person of influence. -- As ordinary people are listened to (and then nowt).... It's a cold air, here, where I am. It's big and cold (room)... I have to put up with it.... I miss you, honey.

I miss you, Mum.

People live together all their lives, and we can't get together. It's rather strange...

You know the reason...

I don't know properly but I don't want to know. It won't (help).... And you can't do nowt about them. It's a waste of time.... It's pretty miserable, here. There is nowt, but sitting in a chair. And a bit to eat.

I love you, Mum...

I love my son and always have done, and always will. My little sunshine, Richie, my sunshine.

That's sweet...

They're waiting for a bit of breakfast. Are you getting good food? If you can't get that, God help us... That's a good lad.... Are there visitors, there?... Is it busy in town?... Busy, where you live, I mean? (No.)... Oh, that's good. What have you to tell me? Nowt, as usual. (We laugh.)...   
Plenty are sitting on their own. More are sitting on their own than there is together. There's nowt to talk about. Everybody has heard the news. They don't want to hear it twice. That's what it boils down to. It doesn't do any good. It annoys some people, maybe....   
Do you get a sore ear? I'm putting it on t'other ear.

(Time isn't on our side...)

Time is precious. Time is money. Time is everything.... Have you had your tea, darling?... It's lovely to hear from you, telling all about things. I like that. Is it a good house? I bought it in a rush. I never saw it... I could tell it had been well kept. You can tell, if you're practised in that...

I'm so grateful to you, for all you've done.

What town is it in?... Which town is that?

Do you know the address?

I don't know it. I've forgotten...

(I give our street address. Ella recognised it, when she was told it:)

Oh, that's different. That's our home. Oh, I know that. I'll never forget that.... But I never got to live in it.

We couldn't live in it, till our retirement.

I know....

You had to look after Dad....

Well, yes, never got to retire. I had (to care for him).

Dads leg injury (needed attention).

I know that, 'cos I did it. It was a pretty miserable thing for him. So, I don't want to remember it.... They're going in their own group. They just sit there and talk a minute... (Ella returns – only in her thoughts, unfortunately – to the house, as much to say:) Is it a good house?

(Yes. I keep improving it.)

Well, I don't get out, you see... It's a big house, with people coming in for drinks,... sitting... and meeting. I don't know anybody, just thru seeing 'em... I can't come and you can't come.

[The infection is still claiming lives.]

They want to watch it, because it strikes, and quick. Once it starts, it goes all over the place.... It's humid here. I'm sort of sweaty. You aren't in control, when you're on your own.... There's a cold breeze, as well, because it isn't warm... You know you get wet cold.... It would be nice, if we could meet, but we can't... Don't come, because it spreads.

I can come now. But you have to keep your distance.

It's not worth it, then, is it? We can better talk on the phone... No strangers coming, just people [who are] here all the time.... Are you there? Have you gone a walking? I've been a walking Mary Jane.

(Ella sings the line, twice.) (Later, in the conversation, I sing: Yesterday. And Ella sings it, after me, improvising on some of the words.)

My mother used to ask me: Who do you love?

And I would answer: Mammy, right to the top.

... British weather, you can't rely on it. Even if it sets off good... It's temperamental is British weather.... It must be cold. Usually, the room's empty, when it's fine... I've got the most uncomfortable chair, anyone could wish for. It's like sitting on a mountain....

(Ella asks me, again, what I was doing, today.)

I was making a picture for a book cover... I don't sell anything...

It's like stock in the shop. You can spend thousands. If it's not what the public wants, they don't want to buy. If you can't do that, you've had it. I remember spending £30,000. That was a lot of money, in those days. I wondered how the hell, I was going to make a profit. You had to read what they would buy, and the price had to be right, as well. How difficult, it was.   
Dad always used to push it on to me. And couldn't read what they would wear and what they would want. It was hit and miss with everybody. You have to sell more than 50%... It was very difficult, very hard, very brain work.... If we hadn't done that, we wouldn't be there, because the rent and rates were difficult, when we didn't own it...   
They're having a row. Arguing, shouting. Oh, it's not very friendly. Anyway, Dino, I can't think of owt, because there is nowt, and I miss you.

I miss you, too, Mum... I could talk about a walk in the country with Dorothy.

No. My whole youth was nothing but walking in the country. I'm sick as muck of it. If you wanted to go somewhere, you had to walk to it. I did it like, to keep up with what people were doing. But it was pretty boring.... I've never seen the new bridge.

I didn't.

Bridges used to be a work of art for the future...   
It's white clouds, and cold. Like as tho summer is finished. It's peak of the season, and it's cold.... No, just nothing...   
When strangers want to talk to you, and are nice to you, they're up to something...  
No, don't go into that. I can't stand it....

What would you like me to talk to you about?

About anything, I just like your company. They're all coming inside, because it's cold. (Ella thinks about ringing off. I agree. Ella couldn't hear me reading to her.) They're quarrelling among themselves, down at the other end of the room. It's awful... God bless you, darling. I love you....

Bye-bye, Mum. Thank you for everything, Mum.

Oh, thank you. Bye-bye, love. Bye-bye...

* * *
13 July.

You're a bit too loud... You were much too loud, before. Amazing, how it sounds.... It's very cold, miserable weather.... I wonder how Dino is doing?... I've been in all day. I never go out. I's just locked up.... How's my Dino, is he all right?

(I keep so busy in my thinking and doing, that I never have time to be lonely.)

You can be lonely, and have dozens around you, at the same time. It's like in the playground, at school.... You have to work at it, yourselves – at associating with people. You have to work at it... And suddenly it stops! They find somebody else (laughs). Oh, it's strange... Never mind. We all know what it's like.   
(Ella, harking back to the house, from which the authorities have exiled her:) What the hell did I buy it for? I never live in it. (Ella had to pay for it, working in the shop, till retirement.) Anyway, I'm glad I bought it. It would go up in price.

(I don't know the prices, Mum.)

It's quite dull. No sun-shine.

(I usually find the sun too hot.)

Why, it is. But you need the sun, you can't be warm without it. You find a spot in the shade.... They're all sat in a circle, here. They never talk, now. They used to do, a few years ago. Chatted in a corner. They don't now. They don't talk at all.... They've gotten a table set for tea.... Where are you?

I'm here, my lovely Mum.

My lovely little Dino. Little Richard. What are you doing, Dickie Toodle?.

That sounds like Grandad.... It's blustery, today. It would be warm but for the wind...

It's dull, no sun.... It's a noisy television. Too loud.

Yes, I can hear a constant chatter, in the background.

I love you, darling. I'll ring when it's quieter. It's horrible. Can you hear the noise? (It's too cold to move away.)

What a racket!

They're shouting at one another (the staff apparently).

(Farewells.)

* * *
14 July.

....I've got a crowd round me. All asleep, or pretending to be.

(I tell Ella of our home dining room improvements, so she would be able to live there. There's an en-suite toilet with closet and extractor fan. There's a new insulated bay window, so she can live on the sunny south side of the house.) It was bad, wasn't it? Draughty, wasn't it?... Nobody goes and sits outside.... (My doing odd jobs:) Little jobs need doing. They grow into big jobs, don't they?

(I happen to get up early, that morning.) Me, I tend to give it a lay on. It does you good to lay on. You don't always want to be tearing yourself to bits.

At 6:30 in the morning, it was sunshine and blue sky.

How long was it there?

Not long.

(She laughs:) Thought not. It's too cold for sitting out.... They've got all the doors open. They sit in here, no fires. That's how they do it. They don't do (anything).... (Ella would repeatedly tell me to tone down my voice, over the sensitive mobile phone, so as not to wake the neighbors.)

Worrieth not.

No, worrieth not. They spend their time snoozing in a chair. Never talk. Never mix. You can't avoid noticing it. Funny, isn't it? They just lay back in their chair, all the time. I've been here, all afternoon, and I haven't heard any conversation.

They were like that, when I came.

Why, it is, it's the same everyday. You're right (laughs). Telly's on, but they never watch it – keep it on all day – but never watch it. Well, Dino, I've nowt to tell, because nowt happens here. I miss you, tho. I just miss you. I don't want to wake them up, either.

I wouldn't worry about it.

Well, they would worry about it. It's nice to hear your voice. I'm just pleased to hear it. I'm just sitting in the blooming chair, and looking at telly, without thinking. They don't know one another. Funny, isn't it?... How is the house?

It's not much fun without you in it.

You have to have somewhere to live, my pet. I live in a big room, where nobody talks. They're all strangers to one another. Well, I love you, but nothing seems to change.

(The virus only slowly abates. At home:) it's no fun without you there...

(Ella changes the subject.) I love to watch cats go up a tree. They start at the bottom and run right the way to the top. It's really difficult but they've got the claws to hold on. They can run up a tree. Sometimes they fall, on purpose or by accident but they don't really hurt themselves. They fall on their feet.

Cats always fall on their feet.

They've come to rouse 'em, to get 'em to bed. I don't like that, really. Sometimes, they refuse. Oh, she's going. (She's disabled.) It's not home, tho. It's not like a home. I'll never get used to it.

I hope not.

But you put up with it. You have to do. There's no other way. Near the door, you get those drafts. A woman is sat there all day, just on the corner, where you come in. I don't know how she sticks it. And I've got a draft at my legs. They're swelling up, because if I move, I don't know where to go. Things aren't very good. But you have to make the best of them.... Awh, I don't bother about them (the authorities).

What can't be cured must be endured. (Ella agrees.) Your fate is my fate.

We don't talk about that....

All right, just don't forget it.

No... There's not a lot of people here.... When I was in my prime, talking was the point of meeting.... It's shaping-up for winter – winter comes before summer ends.... I sometimes think about the farm, and the road to the village. Going on me bike shopping. And I thought it would go on forever. I thought surely we would have a different life.

(There's a comet, an asteroid – a shooting star, low in the northern sky...)

... I used to go there... People never go out of here. I don't think they let you out. It's that virus.

And it's also the authorities...

Awh, it doesn't matter. They think they're doing something special.... They can't take our love away... We can still talk on the phone. It is different (not meeting) but you have to make the best of what you can get.... (The phone must be very costly.)

I've only got one Mum.

I know, I hope so (laughs). Ah well, Dino, it's a bit nippy for summer....[Foreign labor], went home, will be nice and warm in Romania. Dad's house will still be there. (Ella remembers its address - because of so many letters from "home".) There won't be any Lungs there, but it'll still be there. Was [their town] the capital? –

(No, Bucharest.)

It sounds like a capital.... It's a good country, because it has a nice climate. He said: I used to take my shirt off, to keep cool. - You mustn't take your "shet" off here!... (Conversation:) it isn't easy, is it? Things are just the same for us, everyday. You just have to talk to one another, any old how. We can always talk about the weather.... Is it a busy town, where you are, or like a village?

It's a suburb.

Busy shops and things?

Only a shop on the corner.

I was thinking about [a landlord]. I've just realised what a little man he was. Did you know him?

I only met him once. We were waiting for a bus, and he gave us a lift in his car, outside his mansion. I would be maybe five years old.

(That's a long time ago.)

66 years. I don't know whether he was a little man, because he was sitting in his car. He talked to me nicely.

Was it baby talk?

No, he talked to me naturally [like an adult. A small child notices that.]

He's been dead a long time.

I took photos of the village. He left a stained-glass window, in the church. I showed you the photos, on the television.

I'd like to see 'em, again.

Grandad and Grandma are in Middleton cemetery [graveyard]. (Ellas Dad:) He put up a stone to remember himself and his wife.

That's why I went to take pictures.

A nice stone, isn't it? When he said he was going to do something, he was going to do it, as soon as he got the money. (About the village:) There was not much doing, for people to go, and watch and listen to. Oh, no....   
The doors are always left open, here.

The doors are open to let air circulate.

Yes, it spreads disease, if you're locked up in it. You used to come in, didn't you?

Yes. What I really want is to bring you home.

I think it's funny, when you can't go home.

It's not just you. (There are many others.)

I suppose that's right.

(The authorities hold all the cards.)

You think it's going to be better, but it never is. Lot of rubbish on telly. They keep it on, all day, and nobody is watching it. Very few. And it's the same old rubbish. They have little fights. Well, Dino, I mustn't keep you on the phone. I love you and miss you.

I love you and miss you, too, Mum.

The main thing is I speak to you. But it's nice to be with you. Maybe, we will be. I think it will happen, and if it doesn't, we still speak together. I'd better ring off.

I want to love you, as good as I can give.

Thank you, Dino. God bless you. You will ring me again, won't you? Have a relaxed evening. Yeah, and be a good lad. You can't be anything else, can you? I love you so much.

God bless you, I love you, too, Mum....

* * *
15 July.

Keep your voice down... I'm right among them. I'll have to keep me voice down. They sit in here, in the room, with the doors open. No fires.

You see, they have to cater for a lot of people...

(Ella understood.) It's a miserable day for summer, July, fancy! I've known better days when winter comes. What are you doing?

(I try to explain that I'm still working for her release.)

I'm not going to get out of here, in my time...

That may be true, but that's not the spirit.

I haven't got any spirit, at my age.

(In the background, a woman lets out a long cry.)

I'm not doing nothing, Dino. I don't think about things, at my age. It's not worth it. I live my life as it is. I don't look to the future...You do what you want.

Mum, it's not a waste of my time (trying to help you).

Anyway, Dino, I love you. That's the main thing.... All they do is watch the telly (and not many do that). They never talk.... Are you watching any telly?

Rumpole of the Bailey....

I think I slightly remember. I think he was on different cases, each month or week or whatever.

That's right. You remember it.

Yeah, I remember it.... Yet another dull day, in the middle of summer. I've never known it as bad as that. No, it's very unusual. Nobody is going outside. Too cold. In the middle of blooming July!

(Should I read from some notes?)

I like you as you are. It doesn't matter, as long as we are together. It's pretty miserable tho, in this cold room. The doors are open. Well, you have to sit near them. Really charming spot! I've known Winter better. (Someone coughs.) Oh, my God, they're coughing, here. They're all coughing. It's the weather makes them cough. A woman is angry – she isn't half letting him have it.

(Asking about myself:) I write, but I'm too far from the normal to be a success.

I thought that might be it. People don't want to know about it. So, you're writing for yourself. So, it won't do you much good... That's what life is like. It's just a one-off thing...(if anyone succeeds)...   
It's miserably misty and dull.

(It's the same, here.)

We're up high. It should be better, but it isn't. It's bloody cold.... They're struggling with these implements, they're walking with.

(A background out-burst sounds like: bloody old brains and all...)

Did you hear that? That was real-life. Swearing at the audience: "bloody lot" she says. She doesn't half let rip, and nobody bothers with her. It's right friendly! (laughs ironically).

For nearly a year I've been without my mother. You seem very tired today.

There's no news. I've never been out. The weather is awful, but you know that. They're coming and yapping at me, staring at me. I'm not getting up for her. They keep lifting them pushers. You have to watch for your feet, I'll tell you. It's nasty... terrible, if you get hit with that lot.   
By, there's a racket on telly. It's on here, all the time. Nobody watches it; well, not many, anyway. If their prods hit your feet, they could lame you for life. You have to be very careful; feet take a lot of mending, if they get wrong. It's very dangerous...

(I comment that some of the noise isn't coming from the telly.)

I dearn't care where it comes frev.... They never talk to one another. All they do is sleep.

(I'm trying to help you.)

I know you are, Dino.

I'm not trying to worry you about it.

I know you're not. I just think about other things.

Are you going to sing for me?

No, you sing for me. Ah's lazy, today. I'm sat on the rummest chair. It's like being on a mountain-side. (Ella sings:) Sweetheart, will you love me ever?

That's very nice.

It is, isn't it? It's a nice little song. I can't remember what comes next.

I sing a verse of: Glad All Over.

It's nice, all that. (Is it a forties song?)

It's a 60s song. I only know the 60s songs.

Oh, it's a 60s.

It's a disappointing summer, as usual.

... And, if it's nice, it goes like lightning. We'll get days; that'll be it.... It's funny the way they do it. They make everybody sit down in a place.... People made their own groups and conversation. It's all ordered, now, to suit them. I'm not saying much, 'cos I've never been out. They never hardly talk together; they're all separate. Half are not watching the telly. It's just the bloody noise.   
Funny, isn't it? Just sit and do nowt. Talk, no, nothing. One or two are sat close. They never talk to me. It's like sitting near nobody. You might as well, because when there's nobody, you don't expect to hear (owt).... They listen to telly. They don't want to hear people. It's like as if (they only listen to what's official....)   
Do you watch telly?

Rumpole of the Bailey, from 30 years ago.

Oh yeah, was it good? I think I watched some of it. It must have been popular.... There's a woman fighting with her push roller. Aye, she's getting up, now. Going to make a bit of trouble. She doesn't give a damn.... It's getting darker and darker, here.

You do right to be careful.

I try to keep away from 'em, spiky hard things. I've had enough injuries, without them. They might just pass a few words of helpful conversation. But they don't talk together, till bedtime. Very thrilling!

I've got to be for you, even if I can't do anything...

All right, Dino, I's a listening.

Not all places are like that. We wouldn't be like that....

They're not even talking to thi'sens! [themselves.]

It's not normal for people to be like that.

The telly is on full blast. If you look at their faces, they're not looking at it.

Well, whatever happens, I don't want you to get like that.

I don't think so...

I just want you to know, I've not given-up on you.

As long as you love me, and talk to me... I'm not giving up on anybody. I don't interfere with anyone.

Other people are interfering with us. That's the problem.

I just shut that out. I don't want to know owt about it.... (Adds later: I never take any interest in that, now.)   
All they do is stare into space. One or two are watching (the telly). I don't see the point in it.... You can look at pictures, flashing...(That's about it.)   
Are you there?...   
(Ella sings:) I've been a walking, Mary Jane. (Still singing the next sentence:) And I don't know the other words. And the tune, and that's it!... They're all funny coughs here. I don't like it. Have you got a telly?....

I watch: Rumpole of the Bailey.

It's a comedy, isn't it? Not so funny when you're in it, tho. I've been in it, and you worry about it. No, I didn't (like it).

It made me unhappy for six months or so.

It's not worth giving up your time for that. My parents and I always liked to be away from it. Keep away from it. For many years, we managed to do it, pretty well.... Does your phone hurt your ear?

I have an old-fashioned phone.

They're the best....

(Asked after again:) I'm not so bad. I can manage. I'm a bit younger than you.

Well, this is a cold room, big doors. I'm thinking of getting a blanket. I miss you, you know.

That's why I'm working so hard. Even if (I don't succeed).

I don't want you to get ill over it.

I'll try not to.

No, it would make things a hundred percent worse. I'd rather have you as it is. It's nice (to hear from you).... Lot of rubbish on telly. I don't watch it. It goes over me head.

(Something to the effect: if I can get us back together.)

No, don't bother. Don't worry over it...

(I'm on my own.)

That makes you (so) you don't converse. I haven't anyone, either. – Oh, she's got a nasty cough. Can you hear? (Yes.) And she's sitting right by the door, with the door wide open. Oh Lord, she's been coughing for five minutes.

I wish you were home.

"If wishes were horses, beggars would fly." I used to think that it was senseless, but it isn't. 'Cos horses had always been so expensive.... Somebody brought me a drink of tea. I don't like the way they make tea, but I drink it. I'll ring off, and you ring again. I'll drink my tea, before it gets cold. God bless. I love you, darling.... You will ring again, won't you, 'cos I look forward to hearing from you...

* * *
16 July.

(Heated insistent chatter, in the background.)

....They're telling them to go to bed, and they don't want to go. "Come on, come on..." She doesn't want to go. It's the customer and the authorities, the carers, they're quarreling with. They want to give her a wash. She doesn't want one.... She's going to put on a body mask. (Mum laughs.) What a going on. She hasn't shifted off her seat.... Two of them are at her, now.... They're still at it.... I've got dead feet, cawd, you see.

You don't want that.

I'll have to move them about. It doesn't do much good.... They're not stone cold, but enough to make your feet stiff.... I tell you what, ring again, when they stop yapping. I love you...

You've been a joy to me, Mum.

That's who I want to be a joy to.

It was one of the happiest times of my life.

Happy days, Dino.... Ring me again, as soon as this game is over. (I laugh.) It's a waste of my time and yours...

17 July.

(To the deputy manager, who ackowledged her full name: You know Ella and I have always wanted to be back home together, don't you?

Yes.

You don't mind me reminding you?

No, that's fine.

[Note: The stenographer, at the Best Interests meeting, gave her a similar sounding surname, starting with a different plosive consonant and a neighboring vowel. The deputy was sitting next to me, and watched me write down her name.] )

Hello Richie... chilly up here. No fires. No heating, and it's a great big room. It has to be fine to be warm. Not nice at all. In fact, I'm shivering at the moment. It's not like home, you know. You have to stay put, because people are sat all about. Not nice at all.

(Once I shut the windows, it was humid, inside.)

You can't say this about this one. I'm shivering, really, until I've got a blanket round. No fires... They might have them down below.... They don't talk to one another. They chat a bit around but not a lot. I don't talk to 'em, unless they come and sit next to you, and talk, but they don't. They mainly sit on their own. "Kids" screaming.... What are you doing?

I keep busy...

Plodding on...

Yes, plodding on.

Yeah, like me... Is it Sunday?

(Friday, I think. Ella asked what date it is.) How old am I? I don't know how old I am, now.... God help me!

Well, I hope He will. [Social services won't.]

How is little Dino? What do you call the place you live? I don't know where that was. Where do you live? (I give Ellas home address.) Oh, I didn't know you were there. I thought you were somewhere else. You're in the best spot.   
This is a dump.... Shambles... Oh, it's terrible. I don't know how I put up with it, really. I don't talk to anybody individually. And they talk at a distance... It's [sort of strange]. I don't bother any more about it, talking. I never did....   
Are you there, Dino?

I am, Mum. I love you, Mum.

I know you love me. And I love my Dino... Tho I never see him, it's nice to talk.... I don't want to talk about it (what might be?) as I'm stuck here and I can't go anywhere. They talk in a group, sometimes, across one another.... It's nippy in this room. It survives without anything. I don't know how they stick it. I'm shivering. I shall have to put a coat on.... Is it a warm house?

It is, since I put central heating in.

I'm sort of wet cold, sweaty cold. It's that cold I shall have to put my coat on. You can't find anything, when you put it down, here. It's a (strange) spot. A funny old spot. It's a bit of a cold wind here. You can't move about here, because there's nowhere to move to. It's cold. I feel damp.... It's the women, here, segregated. I think that spoilt it. (The men were more talkative?)...   
It's very cold, near the sea (rueful laugh). It's very shivery and cold. You have to cover up. Miserable place, really. Not like a home, at all. They talk together, but they don't talk to each other. Horrible... It's very cold. I'm very cold. I'll have to ring off. I have to get covered up, it's that cold. It goes right thru you, unless you cover yourself up.

(I said about Ella having had pneumonia. She picks up on this:)

The doctor said: She'll always feel the cold, now. She'll have to keep warm.... They don't care. They're just after your trade. That's all... Is the house facing the road?... I thought it did. I remember seeing it... Is it central?

It's in the suburbs.

You don't want to be in the middle of the blooming old town. You're in the best place. I love you. Nice to talk to you. Not too long, not too short.

You sound tired, Mum.

I am a bit. I don't know why I am. Ring me when you feel like it. God bless you, darling. Take care of yourself.

I love you, Mum.

I know, and I love my little son.... Bye-bye...

* * *
18 July.

Hello Ricky... Keep it down...

I'm a lot quieter, this time.

I know that. Yeah, it wants to be (spoken with her gentle laugh). It's surprising how loud it can be.... It's cold in here. No fires, you see. [Ella can't feel them if there are.] I've been moving me feet, all night.... Awful. I can't speak very loud, because they're all around me. There's nowhere to go, unless I leave the room. And I can't do that.

(I just put my nose outside the door. It was very busy on the main road, again, today.)

I remember that, when I bought it. It put me off, a bit. Then again, it's difficult getting anywhere. I'm surprised it bothers you.

It's quite a long way off. It doesn't bother me.

... I specially did that. But I didn't want to go, so you're in the land of nowhere.... It's very cold...

It's been another dull day. It's amazing really, for how long.

You're quite loud...

It's difficult to get the right sound level.

I get it over, all right.

I don't have anyone, here, to hear me.

...Can you hear them? They're all chattering louder than you.... It's dark now, nearly, in this room. They're going off to bed now, a lot of them. You see, they got up early, and do nowt. But I think it's much too early to go to bed. I think it's stupid. It's not very nice, stopping up on your own. But it's better than that... Not very good. But that's how we seem to end up, all of us, don't we? You'd think it would be difficult to do it...

(After not being able to follow Ellas drift:) You sound abstract.

I know it is, yeah. It's difficult to tell you what it's like. They just sit in silence. (Being without the men) spoilt it, not a bit of a laugh, nothing.... They're only a yard away.

I don't hear them.

No, but I do.... You know, it hasn't been much rain, has it? It's most unusual. How long has it been, because it's usually wet. And I know that, because I've gone thru all the seasons, in the countryside. I think it's raining now.

(There's been some drizzle. I can't see from here.)

It doesn't matter. You'll see, when you're finished.... I daren't speak too loud. It isn't worth losing me seat to go away; too cold. I haven't watched the news for ages. Anything could have happened, and I wouldn't know.

(Same here.)

I daren't speak too loud – they're a stroppy lot.

I had a rest, this afternoon.

Yeah, I had a rest.... Something's happened, hasn't it? – The cawd.

Global warming.

Have you got a sore ear?

I have an old-fashioned phone.

(The mobile:)... it's a heavy little sod.... It's a funny old world. I don't hear anything from my relatives.

I leave it to them.

You would!

They can't help. If you want me to contact them, I'll contact them.

... At Christmas... Occasionally, if you haven't heard.... You want to. You don't want to lose contact with them.

I've been very busy lately.

That's no excuse....

I'll do as you ask.

It's for everybodys good.... You need people, sometimes. You don't think of the moment, when you need somebody.... Especially, the relatives. You can't get closer than them....   
(A nasty cough.) By! It is nasty, in this room. It's terrible. She's been at it, all evening. I mean, she's spreading it. Can't do nowt about it. It's the only room there is.... It's getting dark, on an evening.... What month is it, July?... I know when I was born, but I can't add up now....  
Oh, there she goes again. I've got the wailer. It's set in, she can't get rid of it. You haven't to let things, like that, get hold of you.   
By God! I've got cold feet, stiffening up. I've got warm slippers on, and a cloth over my legs, but it's still cold. I hate it, it's awful.   
Oh, there's the cougher. All evening... Nowhere else to go. Have to stay here, with her. You work all your life, to get a decent life, and all you get is more yakking. Can't you hear them? They go to bed, one by one, and it takes them till midnight to do it all.... (Push-)biker, coughers, wailers, Laughers,... There they go....   
Anyway, it's lovely to hear from you. But it's awful when you can't talk. I love you, darling. I love you that much.

I had a rest, this afternoon. And the funny thing is, I got good ideas.

I get ideas. But it's hard to pull 'em off, when you're locked up in a room (laughs).... Bloody nuisance, can you hear them? They're quarrelling, now. Ooh, Heck! They've got a cough. I shall be getting that, next. I keep off 'em.   
Take care of yourself, darling.

You sound tired.

I am, because I can't sleep. I have to stop with them. It's difficult, here... Anyway, I won't keep you. I've nowt to talk about, because I's locked up with this lot. (I've nothing to say) except complaints about the place, but I'm not going to do that.

(Staff comes: it's all right, love, I've finished, now.)
