.
crêper, yes
Stick she says? Eh?
crêper
glue little round
Sweeties are they?
.
glass
spitting spitting spitting
maybe, ah
Thorban, thorban
seal
floors
.
with
full
continued
of, of, of
some
gilli
grim
at
point of
in
does
there are
in does
in does
.
will
sake
best
my
my
.
hoarse
which
to
.
still
my
name Eh! anger at me,
she no more! no more meat and gravy
and? oh. it’s oh dear, what have I
been doing? she goes
there
there
a mess, yes. but she’s not no
fear
cheek
.
when I get better
Package
for me pass, parc
what?
.
quite
three and six nine and six fifteen
name it
moving moving!
everything’s moving!
?
.
moving
.
stopped good
what’s this?
jerk
moving this
stick
ooooooooh!
splashash what was? smell
mop not this mop
what?
aaaagh!
shoulder!
blank
aaaaaaaaagh!
.
.
.
.
No, doesn’t matter
Rosetta Stanton
age 94
marital status not known
sight 5%
hearing 10%?
touch 5%
taste 15%
smell 20%
movement 5%
CQ count 0
pathology everything everyone else has; plus incipient bronchial pneumonia; atherosclerotic dementia; probably ament; hemiplegia (with negative Babinski response); to name only a very few.
.
Galluog
lwcus
ynad
.
noddwr
Teg
enwog
geirwir
arabus
.
iachus
Hael
uchaf
.
grymus
hwyliog
eofn sylfaen
.
Math
addien
reit
.
gorwych
anianol
rhyw
ethol
ter
.
Huawdl
uchelryw
graslawn
.
hoyw
eirian
serennu
.
Afal
llu
uned
.
nesaf
Teilwng
egniol
gris
arlun
.
ieuanc
Hogyn
uthr
gogoniant
huan
epil
syber!
.
Disglair
addurno
fyny
ynni
digrif
drud
Tirion
eisen
.
gwron
atodiad
ifanc
.
Hadu
unol
golenad
haul
eryr
safon
I am
terrible, Ivy
Now I can every
word you say I am a prisoner in my
self. It is terrible. The movement agonises me.
Let me out, or I shall die
No, I do
not get any
lighter, Ivy,
I in-
tend
not
to get
an y -
thing
any
more
no
mor
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
House Mother
age 42
marital status divorcée
sight 85%
hearing 90%
touch 100%
taste 40%
smell 95%
movement 100%
CQ count 10
pathology mild clap; incipient influenza; dandruff; malignant cerebral carcinoma (dormant)
They are fed, they are my friends. Is that not enough?
And what would be enough? Some of them indeed are not
capable of differentiating between meat and bread – no,
that is not an argument for not giving them meat. A balanced
diet is essential to the health of the aged. I know that.
I know what is best for them. I am a trained House Mother.
Did I not work under Frau Holstein of the House in Basle?
Ah! Sunny days sitting on the slopes of the Moron, or walking
by the green river, with that good, good, woman.
Yes, I know what I am talking about, friend, as regards
diet and everything else to do with the efficient running
of a tidy. . . . No! You can’t have any more meat, you gutsy greedy
old slobbery cow! The impertinence of it! And what does she
think of next? I can read her like a book – she is after Ron’s
meat, a birdlike eater, Ron, the twitcher will stop her. No!
Three from the twitcher for thieves, Mrs Ridge, one! two! three!
There! That will teach you, Mrs Ridge!
Treat them like children: they are children, aren’t they?
This is truly their second childhood, isn’t it?
Oh, do not think I justify
myself! I have no psychological need to do that, friend, none
at all. Do not deceive yourself: deception is a sin if not a crime.
Now come on, finish up like good second children. There’s
all the treats of our weekly Social Evening to come.
So many of them look beautiful,
manage to keep some beauty, even acquire some beauty. I use
the word advisedly. Even the bearded Stanton lady, in her
way. Come along now! Chivvy chivvy chivvy. Day-
dreaming, most of them, they remember years ago far better
than they remember to change themselves, or ask to be
changed. They admire the past, think so much of the past: why
therefore do they expect treatment any different from that
they would have received in the workhouse of the past?
Ah, you can bet, friend, they prefer at least this aspect of
modern life, do not want to return to the good old workhouse
days! Oh dear me, no, no!
Isn’t that a not unpleasing paradox?
This may be a
charitable institution, that may be the form of words, but
it is as remote from what was known as a workhouse as my
Ralphie is from a
dingo.
Right now! Clear up! Quietly,
if you please, this is not a bandhouse or bothy! What d’you
At least we
don’t have washing up to do with these cardboard plates.
Just shoot the lot for pigswill, sell it. Must see if I
can get more off that swine Berry, ha, though he gets
enough off me one way or the other, besides the odd
bit of the other. I give him a good class of swill for
his pigs, they must enjoy the cardboard, I think. Pigs
eat anything, they say. No complaints, anyway, and it’s
all good for – You dirty old . . . person!
What a mess, dropped the lot!
Thought you were feeding Ralphie, did you? I tell you
Ralphie wouldn’t touch it after you had! He
has only the finest dogmeat, two tins a day, two large
tins, that is. Come here, Ralphie my darling, did
they try to tempt you with muck, Ralphie?
There, there. Feel the flowing of
those muscles, how tense he strains. Five
times! What a dog!
Mrs Bowen, I think we’ll make that
your last chance to drop anything, shall we?
Come on now! Last one to clear up is a cissy! Really
must get on to the office again about help. Can’t run
this place any longer with just a part-time cook. And
I’m not cooking once more in that place when she’s off
sick or drunk. They’ll have to give me help, have to.
Right, at last
we’ve finished clearing up our mess, haven’t we, and
so now it’s time for the House Song. Not
to say the House Hymn!
Are we ready,
then? Altogether now, let’s be hearing
from you in the Balcony as well, one,
two,
three!
The joys of life continue strong
Throughout old age, however long:
If only you can cheerful stay
And brightly welcome every day.
Not what you’ve been, not what you’ll be,
What matters now is that you’re free:
The joys of life continue strong
Throughout old age, however long.
The most important thing to do
Is stay alive and screw and screw:
No matter if the future’s dim
So long as I can use my quim:
For I know best, and bring no cheer,
Oh, lucky me, that I am here!
The most important thing to do
Is screw and screw, and screw and screw.
What a delightful song that is!
Now it’s work, everyone, work, and then play, play
later. Our little good deed for the day, work.
Ivy,
fetch the boxes, please. It’s Fancy Goods
again tonight, my dears, Fancy Goods except for
Sarah and Charlie who I’ve got something very special
in mind for. Now my little Fancy Goods man
wasn’t too pleased with the work you did yesterday,
I’m sorry to say – sorry for your sakes, that is, not
for mine, of course. Can we just be a little
bit more careful tonight? Not get the
sticky glue all over our fingers but only where it’s
supposed to go? Ivy, give me one of those here.
You see, it’s quite simple: you
just cut your crêpe paper to the width of your little
wooden roller, roll
it round like this and very carefully
glue all along the edge – very carefully, mind you,
very carefully. You don’t need
much glue, just a smear, just a smear along one edge.
Is that all clear?
So do let’s do our little good deed for the day, but
do it well if we’re going to do it at all. Ivy,
give out the work then, please.
Sarah and Charlie,
my trusties, I have something special for you tonight.
Charlie, I want you to pour about
a quarter of each of these bottles into one of the
empty ones here until it’s three-quarters full –
three bottles pour a quarter out of, that is, until
this one’s also three-quarters full, and when you’ve
got them all three-quarters full then top them up
with water from your tap. All right?
But please be careful not to stain any of the labels
with drips, there’s a good trusty, my old Charlie?
No, I know you haven’t, I
know, Charlie. Now Sarah, I want
you to do a similar job for me, though not quite the
same. You see these little bottles? I’d like you
just to soak the labels off, make the bottles quite
clean afterwards
No, I don’t want the labels kept for
anything, no, so you can get them off any way you
like, tear them, scrape them with your nails, oh?
Yes, by all means
use a knife from the washing up.
Everyone happy, then? Ivy, see that everyone
has a pot of glue and enough to get on with.
All right, friends?
I’m going to work, too, get on with my own
work up on the stage.
Talk by all means, but let’s not have too much
noise, eh? Bless you.
My children. From this dais
I am monarch of all I survey. This is my Empire.
I do not exaggerate, friend. They are dependent
upon me and upon such minions as I have from time
to time. Nothing is more sure than that I am
in control of them. And they know it. They
vie with each other for my attention. This is
especially noticeable on the tablet round
each night and morning. On the weekly medical
round their attention is divided between the
good doctor and myself: they are undecided as
to whether to play for the once-a-week prestige
of his attention, or for mine that it may
perhaps be available more than once a week,
perhaps even daily. Oh, how comic that is!
For I love only Ralphie, Ralphie is my darling!
Where are you, Ralphie?
Ralph, come here at once! The dirty doggie,
licking at that mess under poor old Mrs Stanton!
Hope it’s only water. Perhaps it’s gravy from
dinner. There, there, Ralphie, there’s a good
dog, that’s my hairy darling.
There are always complaints, of course. Complaining
is one of the few activities into which they put
some genuine feeling. It is good for them, of course.
I listen very carefully to their complaints. And then
do nothing. There is nothing for them really to
complain about here. They would be so much worse off
if they were not in here. The hazards of hypothermia,
falls, neglect. But it does not worry me if
complaining is their favourite occupation. It is
also a way of vieing for my attention. I fondle
Ralphie in front of them and that keeps up their
interest. It frustrates them and gives them a
reason to be going on. What would become of them
if I took this away? Oh, I did not study for five
years for nothing, friend, or waste my time as an
abject disciple of Frau Holstein, no! It gives them
something to worry about instead of worrying
about their reactions not being as sharp as they
were, their voices not quite so resonant, that
they are forgetful, and confused, and so on and
/> so forth. And then there are the diversions I
provide, as well. The Sally Army comes round
collecting several times a month. They enjoy
that, it is one of their favourite treats. Come
and join. Then we have the Olde Tyme Evening
provided by the Council once a year, too, when
they’re not too busy. Oh, to them it must seem
like one mad merry-go-round! And a schoolchildren’s
choir every now and again. Then there’s always
the telly, when it’s working – that reminds me,
House Mother Normal Page 9