Sleeping

1 Christa and I travelled to Shaftesbury in the recently-bought Ford Fiesta, the first long journey for the car. Everything worked. The sun shone. We stopped at the service station on the M3. From there we continued non-stop to Castlehill.

2 We were greeted and recognised. When we arrived, Lilian was at the lunch table, asleep, her head to one side. She was carried by hoist, in a bundle, to a chair in the front room. C and I sat there with Lilian for the best part of an hour. We were served tea and biscuits, and we were greeted by the manager, Mac, when she turned up. We gathered that Lilian sleeps for much of the time. She is taken from her bed about 0700; she remains up, albeit asleep for some or much of the time, until about 1800. Shis is immobile. She has no bed-sores. Her hair is still as full as I remember it from last time. Her face is unwrinkled. Her legs are thin, perhaps thinner. She seemed at ease: no twisting, no turning, scarcely any sounds: no signs of distress. When next we visit, if the weather is as good as it was today, then it will be possible to sit with her in the garden.

3 She has been in Castlehill since 14 October 2002, seven and a half years.

4 Perhaps she could do with some new clothes. Trousers, perhaps, rather than a dress, as a guard against exposure when she is being moved.