One of the most peculiar side-effects of mum’s illness in recent years is the impact it’s had on Dad’s television watching habits. A little before ten pm he wheels her into the bedroom and gets the things she needs to start getting ready for bed. He then leaves her for half an hour plus to sort herself out, before he comes to finish off the last bits and get her into bed.
The gap in the middle is rest time for him; usually too short a period to do much with he surfs the TV channels.
Only those who know the serious intense character he can be, will appreciate quite how weird it is that he seems to end up on Channel Four watching all manner of tat.
Never did I imagine that my father would engage me in conversation about the goings on in the Big Brother house. I can only compare it to the sort of reaction you might have if the Queen turned to you and said “oooh did you read that article about Britney in Heat the other week?”
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