‘It’s only me,’ cries a professionally cheery voice. Footsteps clatter to the kitchen to put the kettle on, a head appears round the bedroom door and a uniformed carer enters with a snap of plastic gloves. It’s time to get up.
What follows is a whirlwind of washing and dressing and with one eye on the clock the helper is away again leaving their charge with a cup of tea, a slice of toast, a long day ahead and, probably, the television for company. (more…)