mostly david ephgrave

A pleasing byproduct of downloading the app for the camera on my dad's doorbell so I can answer the door on his behalf is I can now speak loudly to the village at any given moment like the God of Woolmer Green. While I say this in jest, being able to keep an eye on what's happening at my dad's house will bring a lot of reassurance. From time to time, it can be hard to get hold of him, which based on previous experience can be more than a little concerning; he's been rushed to the hospital now more than once, with the only warning being the fact we couldn't raise him, so for me to be able to see when the carer's visited is great. Anything that creates a sense of contact is to be encouraged. I demonstrated the app to him again while I was there today, in the hope he might take it on board and use it more often. The problem is his illness and inaction have made him so passive that he struggles to engage with anything, so the hope he might press the right...

It says a lot about the state of paranoia I live in that when someone rings the doorbell, my first thought is ‘IT’S THE POLICE’. This may suggest I have a guilty conscience. I haven't, though it’s best not to ask why I recently re-tarmacked my drive. I’ve just become so conditioned into not receiving visitors that when there’s a knock at the door, I only assume the worst. The plus side to living in a block of flats (the drive bit was a lie) is that anyone who wants to see me has to get past a security door first. Provided they don’t arrive before midday, when they can gain access by pressing the services button. So if I ever commit a crime, I need to make sure it remains undetected until the early afternoon. Then I’ll have time to climb out of the bathroom window to make my escape. I’d still have to walk past the front door to get away, but I’d have a head start. A few years back, I was 'knocked up' by the law (not like that). They were going from door-to-doo...