Visiting Dad 15

I saw my dad again this week. He is now in Panteg, what was the county hospital, although Aneurin Bevan's name is now associated with it in some way. (I 'phoned them in the morning and got through on the third attempt. Each time they greeted me with Bore da/Good morning. You just knew they didn't speak Welsh though somehow).

I drove up on Monday night and on the Tuesday we had a consultation with the medical staff and a social worker about the future. Previously the idea of a nursing home was in the offing (I actually visited one possibility that morning - that was interesting. First thing I saw by the door were copies of Watchtower and Awake in the reception area. It seemed efficient and clean). Now, however, they think he needs to stay in hospital. At least on this ward he is being treated more appropriately, given that he is not going to improve.

I went and had a cuppa and a bite to eat with my sister Gail then at Amelia's in New Inn. When she went back to school in Blaenavon and I went back to see my dad. We had driving rain most of the morning - I forget what real rain is like, living in London. It's not nice but it blows the cobwebs out.

My dad was rather sleepy and not making too much sense. He had an infection and wasn't feeling his best. I didn't stay too long.

I drove around a little bit then. Cwmbran always leaves me nostalgic and frustrated. For nostalgia's sake I drove back over the old Severn Bridge, stopping briefly at the services to take some pictures. My memories are of crossing it back and for, mainly with my dad driving. I remember that when it first opened a neighbour drove us down to have a look at it (we had no car then). I also remember reading that the fellow from The Manic Street Preachers was last seen at the services there, which just adds to the depressing nature of memory.