Gaps

Gaps begin to appear in the old house. At first, small gaps appear when junk is cleared, and then larger gaps. Less gaps than holes. The opening in the worktop where the sink used to be is ringed with a dubious grime that is greenish in tone. The Aga has gone, its outline marked by the absence of paint or floor tiles.

Dad is not coping well. He has not yet plumbed the sink into the new house as the current sink unit dates from the 1950s and is too small to accommodate Dad's 1980s maxi-sink. When he realised this, he took it out immediately. Dad bought a new unit but still has not constructed it.

He is now sleeping at the new house, and has moved the dogs to their new home.

I am surprised that he can cope without a kitchen sink and the most cursory of crockery, but I am wrong to underestimate him. He has been using the bathroom sink to fetch water for the kettle and has been washing up when he has his baths.

My inclination is that he's teasing me and probably laughing at me from behind his beard. On closer inspection the bath has the kind of food-like debris that washing up usually leaves.