I don’t get out of the house much these days – well, who does when you’re my age. But I’ve got my Janet to look after me. She’s a good girl is our Janet. What’s the time now – five o’clock? At quarter past five she’ll be through the door, and switch on telly. I’ll ‘ave a cuppa and a nice “Nice” biscuit. She’s thinks it’s funny they’re called “Nice biscuits”, does our Janet. So I’ll watch a bit of telly, one of them antiquie programs with that orange Southern bugger presenting it, and our Janet’Il be along with dinner by 6. I don’t like ‘avin me dinner any later than six. Took our Janet quite a while to get it sorted – I ‘ad to get cross with her on a few occasions mind, but it all runs like clockwork now. Always ship-shape in this house, just like it were when her mother (God rest ‘er soul) were alive. I told Janet, I said, “I can’t abide a slovenly woman”. I said, “You make sure that you keep yourself busy and not be idle.”

Now I’m at home, not out’working all day, I can keep an eye on the girl. Like a say she’s a good girl but she’s like most youngsters these days, always lollygagging. At least there aren’t any more young men sniffin’ around; I put paid to that. I said to her, “Who’s going to look after me now your mother (God rest ‘er soul) has passed on?” She said summat about getting a carer in. A Carer! “Bugger that!” I said. “You own me summat in me old age my girl!” As I recall, at the time there was some young oik, Peter sumthin who she were walking out with, but I stopped all that. “You need to look after your father,” I said. And between you and me I told ‘im on no uncertain terms that he could leg it.

“You’re not good enough for my daughter,” I said. He got the message. Janet were a bit upset, but she mended soon enough. She’s a good girl.
Eh, I wonder what that orange blokie’s gonna be up to tonight? Last week, he found an antique potty in some coloured feller’s loft and it sold for nigh on £500 pound. £500 for some black feller’s po. I’d not have given you tuppence, I said to Janet, I said, “I’d not give you tuppence for some darkie’s potty.”‘Course she agreed with me. Well, I think she did anyway, it’s a bit hard to tell with our Janet. Plays ‘er cards close to her chest does thatun. ‘er mother (May she rest in peace) were t’same. Speaking of Janet, she’s a bit late this afternoon. It’s 5.20 but I don’t see my tea and biscuit anywhere. I’m going to have to have a word. There’s no room for sloppiness. Still, I suppose bus could be late or summat. I’ll have to turn on me own telly. Hnnnnuhh – Ah! Upsadaisy. Okay remote, remote.. .where the hell is the remote? Could have sworn I.. .there it is. Ok, right. Channel, channel three… yup.. .there we are. There’s yon Southern nancy. Ye God’s he’s orange. ‘Aven’t missed too much of it then.

Where is that girl? It’s 5.35 now! My tea’s 20 minutes late? You’d think she’d give a bit more thought, me bed-ridden and all. Useless. I’m parched for a drop of tea. Janet! Janet!!! Where’s my tea girl? Janet!?
No reply. Is she not in the house then? Where the hell is she? She knows the time I like me tea. What’s’wrong with the girl? Janet!
Hang on. What’s this? It’s a letter. It weren’t there before I had my nap. Oooop – get me reading glasses on. There. It’s in our Janet’s writin’.

“Dear Dad,
I’ve left. The lady from social services is coming at 6.00. I’m fifty-four Dad. I can’t give you any more. Janet.”

Oh Janet!