Bingo with added urine


To demonstrate the down side of community living, we were awoken by loud voices around 6:30 and the fire alarm went off whilst we were getting dressed; also, the instant coffee is excruciating.

Otherwise, the day started well.

Firstly, I found the toothpaste so I didn’t have admit my dodderiness. And there I was thinking that I was a grown-up when in fact I am trying to avoid anyone’s disapproval.

After a lovely breakfast, we had taster workshops in chair Zumba, Stitch and Bitch sock puppet making, how to write a dating profile and wills.

Knowing that after lunch was the talent contest, I paired up with J and we thought we would make sock puppets for a sketch of some kind.

The initial idea was a bit of Romeo and Juliet but it morphed into a spoof of The Home with sock puppets of Mr Head Office and care worker, Lucy.

The talent contest was endearingly chaotic. There were songs, readings and poems, a performance piece and so on, and me and J. The audience were super-supportive of everybody and joined in with the singing; there was much whooping and clapping.

I couldn’t have been more astonished that J and I won first prize in the talent contest. It seems our little skit captured the zeitgeist.

There was no time for triumph though as the rumours started straight away that Mr Head Office had not been amused. Clearly he is reacting in character but what if I've really stepped out of line?

And if it can all be rendered meaningless because it's not really real, why am I so bothered by the disapproval of he who is in charge? I am sure a Transactional Analysis expert would have something to say about that!

Blurred lines were promised and here is one.

I thought it best not to let it get to me but, returning to my room, I found that someone had been in there. And not just been in there to leave me another questionnaire or more loo paper, been in there as in having rearranged the duvet, refolded my nightie and rummaged through my overnight bag which, given it contained yesterday's clothes, I guess was rummaging through my laundry. Yuk!

And finding a corporate T-shirt folded on my pillow was right up there freaky.

Wow! I know I signed away my rights but…

I felt a bit paranoid. Was this punishment? Was it a ploy to mess with my head? Even after I found out others had had the same, I still felt weird about it.


After chatting in the sunshine with some TRs and early (excellent) dinner, I am feeling better about things.

It is becoming more apparent how things are being manipulated, or we are getting better at spotting it—for instance, we have all witnessed some mistreatment of care staff by a manager.

This gave me some food for thought—in "the day job", I would not have witnessed that and not said anything, yet today I was silent. Care work is like being a servant with added urine.

We had the first of the CVs (Community Visitors) today. They came to watch the talent contest.

I have been thinking hard to resolve the conflicted feelings I have about that. I did sign up knowing they were coming but I had not expected it to feel so uncomfortable in fictional reality.

I felt like an exhibit and the CVs had paid money to watch like reality TV, but reality theatre.

They were going to enjoy watching a bunch of 'old people' make fools of themselves, someone was going to profit from it and we were going to let them without so much as a peep. Or should that be pimp.

Of course, if this was my life, then I would be drawn to the CVs like water in a desert—a source of refreshingly different conversations, the view of someone significantly younger than my co-residents.

But enough for now, I see the troops are gathering for bingo. I think I might keep my head down—it’s quite busy up there!

Post bingo

Bingo was a bit grim.

I think some of this evening’s CVs might have had a drink or six before coming. There were some foolish young women who were being very silly and annoying.

I was unsettled by people laughing at rather than with the lovely, rather elderly PRR, Gwen, as she called the numbers. I felt protective of her. She is one of us.

I suppose this is sense of belonging. In the last 30 hours, I have met some truly interesting, thoughtful, funny and kind people and thrown my lot in with them, as I think they have with me.