Six days UK. British Airways nanny system worked well. As many of the younger members of my family as possible came to see me. My marvellous daughter chauffeured me round to see old (as in time and age) friends. Statistics being in my genes, I did a survey.

One couple’s decision making has been going on for ten years; I have been the receiver of the pros and cons. He wanted to move into the town. She dithered, their property had a building plot, so they built an ‘eco’ house, she won. For the last five years it has been ‘dither’ time. They argued, stay in France? Follow my path? Move to UK? Finally family prevailed; they wanted them back in UK before a crisis occurred. It’s done. Happy ending? For him yes, in a town where he wanted to be ten years ago. For her? Hm. They have bought a flat in a sheltered  housing development. Expensive, as are rates and overheads. It’s nice. But they have exchanged their house up a steep hill, with a large garden, backing on to the forest, for a flat in Guildford just off the A3. Noisy, polluted, and she does not make friends easily.

What was paramount among all the ‘samples’ was the near dread of going into a ‘home’. Is it wanting to cling to independence? Has the media given ‘care homes’ such a bad name? Is it snobbishness? They are all, in the old-fashioned term, middle class home owners. Do they see a connotation of ‘care home’ with the feckless poor?

A couple, now dead, and a university friend, very poor health, have opted to stay in their own homes with live in carers. These seem very available, often from overseas, perhaps the accommodation keeps them in that job. It has its drawbacks. My uni friend’s carers change every two weeks. So if she does not get on with one, good riddance. If she really likes somebody, they have to go. And everything has to be explained each changeover. With the couple, if the carers left, the family had to sort things out.

The saddest were a couple, he profoundly deaf, she Parkinson’s and several falls, are determined to stay put. House not big enough for a live-in carer, and he is ‘difficult’. Just to get her up every morning costs £1000 per month, I had it free for Mr G. Their house is probably worth £1 million. Last couple, my best friend when they were here in France have moved from Lincolnshire to the South Coast. He could not cope with stairs, she wanted to be near a son. We went down to Sussex last week. The traffic still shocks me. So did where they have moved to. ‘Little boxes’ all over the hill, seemed to be no trees. She is very possessive, the son is to marry this year, and she does not approve of future d-in-law. Ah me. I seem to have got the best deal, but then you have to live in France and like the French!

The Gardener

A Moodscope member