The last time I spoke to my dad on the phone

was sadly post stroke.

I said hello and he said "what can I do for you?" as if he worked in some ritzy call centre.

If it hadn't torn my heart to a gazillion pieces I would've laughed out loud.

I'm lighting a little candle in my heart this evening, to go with all the others, and hoping that he's just fast asleep in his hospital bed (they admitted him this afternoon) rather than still wondering when he's getting out. Which makes him sound like Norman Stanley Fletcher, doing Porridge (anyone non British - google Ronnie Barker)(that Kate BEckinsale girl who was in pearl harbour, her dad was in it too, Great British Sit Com), rather than Geep, doing a couple of nights of observation.