The high life

We took my dad to Leeds last night. He had two short plays being produced by a professional theatre company. Getting him out of the hospital was such a performance. Not the physical removal, but the bureaucracy surrounding it. It took consultations with several doctors, physiotherapists, nurses... He was going to be let out – to go home – on Friday, but that didn’t happen (he should be coming home on Tuesday now). When that plan fell through it seemed like he wouldn’t be able to go to Leeds, but, eventually, they agreed to allow him to leave for the evening, and then come back. The idea of leaving has done him good, his voice has improved a lot over the last few days, and he's been really bright.

The trip wasn't too complicated, we had a wheelchair ready, and he can step in and out of the wheelchair. We had to take so much equipment, to make sure we had everything we'd need – a wheelchair, his walking frame, and a crutch. In the end I don’t think we needed more than the wheelchair. We don’t have a disabled badge at the moment, so we had to drive around Leeds several times, to find the place, and then find an appropriate parking space. I think there’s going to be a steep learning curve when he gets out. There are things you just don’t think about, re. access, when you can walk about freely.

Once we got there the show was really good. There were ten short plays being performed, all of which had been written by aspiring writers, and had faced competition for a place. It was a nice concept - you never got bored, because each play only lasted between 5 and 10 minutes, so you knew there's be a new idea along if one was weak (though most of them were very good). At the end the audience could comment on the plays, and my dad’s got (by far) the most positive feedback (and he was the only writer who'd had two plays accepted). One of my dad's plays had made a woman in the audience cry (it was meant to be sad, so this is a good thing!).

The drive back from Leeds was insane. It was like driving through a minor hurricane, and the rain wasn’t like rain, it was as if buckets of water were being thrown on the windscreen. I was driving across the moors, and it was so scary – the car was just being tossed around, like the wind’s plaything. I think every muscle in my body was tensed. We were in my dad’s car - because it was easier to fit all the stuff he needed in there - so I was the only person who could drive. My dad’s car has power steering, which is nice usually, but in that weather it made me feel less in control – I couldn’t react to the force of the wind as I normally would.

Raine and I have completely moved out of our house in Galgate. We’ve had to move all of our stuff in Raine’s mum’s house, because we just can’t find a flat – everywhere we see is awful. I can’t believe that anyone would live in most of the places we’ve seen. We’re not that picky – seriously. It’s just the places we’re seeing are dire, overpriced, or in seriously dodgy areas. We’ve seen flats that used to be/should be corridors (landlords have just converted all space they’ve got to extort money); one that was across the road from ‘massage’ parlours; and another where you feed £1 coins into a meter to get electricity...

I’m awaiting some legal highs, to try and smoke away my sorrows. They’ll billed as ‘better than weed’, we’ll see. I hope they are - I'm not very good at being a criminal, and I need a giggle! I also want to go on a really good night out, so if anyone’s up for it please let us know! We’ve tried going out the last couple of weekends, but it’s just been a bit of a let-down – no one seems to be out. It’s really quiet on the Blackpool night scene (at least the places we go), in general, at the moment... I think the Banks of Mum and Dad have stopped providing credit for the little uns, and all of us oldies are too exhausted.