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A sense of purpose

It’s 10.30am when Reg decides to get dressed. He’s normally an early riser, one of the first up for breakfast, but today, for whatever reason, he’s having a lie in. He’s chirpy when Vicky knocks on the door to ask if he’d like some help getting up.

Choosing what to wear is never difficult; slacks, a shirt, always a tie and jacket. Reg is a smart dresser and takes care with his appearance. Vicky manoeuvres the buttons, helps him tie the tie and eases his feet into a sturdy pair of shoes. She takes five minutes to massage his hands before he heads out of the green door of his room to find tables laid for breakfast.

Reg chooses porridge and support worker Pete makes it for him, chatting about last night’s football and what the day holds. Reg has a morning routine, clearing the table straight after he’s eaten and heading for the garden.

There’s a ‘Singing for the Brain’ session just starting in the garden club house but today he avoids it, choosing to spend time with his vegetables. He often prefers to be on his own. Pete meets him and suggests they go to the club house together, but it’s clear that Reg has other things on his mind. They head off together round the circular pathway until they reach the raised beds. Pete gets a can of water which Reg pours over six sturdy tomato plants. Reg picks off a few stray shoots and together they look under the leaves for slugs. There are five hiding under a piece of wood that his wife brought in to help catch them earlier in the week. Pete leaves Reg to help Edie. She needs warmer clothes, a hug and reassurance, anxious about going to find her children. “Oh you don’t want to leave now, they’re on their way here, you might miss them,” he says.

Towards lunch time, the smell of hot food brings Reg back towards his distinctive, yellow bungalow. He waits while Gary and some of the ladies finish laying the tables. Today though, Reg is going out for lunch. His wife and daughter arrive to take him for fish and chips at the local pub.

Lunch is followed by a drive to the sea front at Weston and a visit to the local garden centre. It’s nearly four o’clock by the time Reg returns. His family join him and other residents for a cup of tea. The bungalow smells of baking. As well as cake and biscuits from the kitchens, there are freshly made rock buns to be sampled.

When his wife and daughter leave, Vicki takes his hand and encourages him to join her for a game of dominos. It only lasts a few minutes. He’s soon back in the garden, which he visits four more times that evening until, after several small suppers, at 11.00pm, he finally decides it’s time for bed.

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