We moved furniture to make it easier for the ambulancemen to get Eric into the bungalow. (We had it in our heads they'd bring him in his hospital bed- which is ridiculous because they'd have needed an ambulance the size of a removals lorry.) In the event the bed came by itself (in easy-to-assemble parts) and Eric followed on a stretcher. Before he arrived we had a call from the hospital asking us if we realized he might die in transit. Later I read the notes that came with him and saw this is something they're obliged to do- to stop them being sued (I guess).
Ailz got the family album out. Most of the people in it are strangers to me. Even Dot was uncertain about one or two of the earlier faces- a boy soldier of the Great War for instance. A crow alighted on a rail outside the conservatory and peered in at us through the French doors.
Eric is comfortable. Semi-comatose. Medication has been withdrawn; he isn't eating.