“And we’ve been COVID-free for a month now,” beamed the care assistant, as she wheeled him into the communal lounge. Easy-wipe armchairs, linoleum floor, a plastic plant, all day TV, the smell of sour milk and disinfectant. A subsiding terrace of wrinkled faces: staring, sleeping, smiling, sneezing.
“Bless you!”
The Burdon family were all grinning, except for one.
“Wow, what do you think dad?” Yvonne winked.
He stared at the wall which held a faded print of Van Gogh’s Sunflowers.
“It’s very nice,” sighed the old man, rubbing sanitiser into his tattooed hands, “but where would I get my kicks?”
“Bless you!”
The Burdon family were all grinning, except for one.
“Wow, what do you think dad?” Yvonne winked.
He stared at the wall which held a faded print of Van Gogh’s Sunflowers.
“It’s very nice,” sighed the old man, rubbing sanitiser into his tattooed hands, “but where would I get my kicks?”
