I’ve
got a dirty little secret.
Don’t
tell.
I
went and visited my Grandfather in the nursing home.
We
journeyed outside into the fresh air to obtain some vitamin D and to kill any
silverfish that may be stuck to our clothing.
After
a while, I decided I HAD to go to the toilet. (Baby must have been bouncing on the bladder). Due
to locality, I walked into the main complex where the chapel and the function
rooms are.
I
thought to myself, ‘Here’s a treat, I’ve never been to the function room
toilets, I’ll use those’. As there had been no gatherings for some time, they would also be in pristine condition.
I
opened the swinging doors and made my way along a blackened corridor. For some
reason the lighting was switched off in this area. I could see the men’s
toilets and the disabled toilets… but where on earth were the ladies’ toilets?
I
edged further into the unknown, turned a corner and heard a ‘click’!
Uh-oh!
A
siren immediately started to alarm.
I beat a hasty retreat.
Once
outside, I realized that the whole complex’ alarms were now sounding.
I
rushed to my Grandfather’s room to use his toilet (the noise was deafening) and
we resumed sitting outside. We
then heard the wail of not one, but two fire trucks.
I pondered, should
we go and watch the proceedings, like fire bugs?
No,
we decided. They may have video footage of the perp (me).
Twenty
long minutes later the alarms were switched off and residents were finally wheeled
back into their rooms. This was a big task as many are in reclining ‘princess chairs’ and half are usually locked up in the dementia ward (and thought that they were on a 'day out').
We
casually mosied back into my Grandfather’s room as if nothing had happened, and wondered how much the exercise had cost!!
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