It's What They Deserve

Well dad, she's still dead so I suppose you could say mother is fine..I mean there's been no major change in her circumstances over the past five years so y'know. But thanks for asking..

He'd wet himself so the carers had to take him away and that left me alone, suddenly and visibly alone in one of the many living rooms of his care home. Surrounded by lots of people whose major movements where made with their mouths but not necessarily vocal chords, about 20 other inmates and I sat in various degrees of stillness.
I don't think they'd noticed me, I had infiltrated the hive and managed to go unseen, the constant cycle of Midsomer Murders...or perhaps my camouflage coat allowing me to slip between their vision.

But now what? I must keep hidden,
I glanced around, a lot of people were talking...to themselves...I thought I should perhaps join in - hijack one of these imaginary conversations. The thought excited me, I mean they could be chatting with anyone! The possible worlds that existed in their minds! what great and beautiful adventures were we all privy too? How gracious and thankful we should be to bare witness to these glorious phantoms
Dear god just let me in!

Is it dementia? Or am I surrounded by some of the greatest performance artists of all time.




He viewed the place with the same disdain and distanced query as I did, he was well aware he was "in a madhouse" but hadn't quite grasped that he was, infact, one of the nutters. Never one to mince his words and always accidentally profound he grabbed my arm and said "nothing ever happens and nothing ever gets done" which threw me wholeheartedly into a momentary existential crisis as I pondered the awful, purely unintended gravity of his words.
This though paled in comparison to his thoughts on the bringing in of the New Year for 2013 where he parted "well you know what I say, one year closer to death"
I mean...he wasn't wrong?

 A few years ago the village to ours flooded and upon hearing this dad said
"good, it's what they deserve"

 Dementia? Or performance art?
Am I ever to know?