She's sitting in front of a half- empty tea cup. She's been sitting like that for an hour or so.
Her carer arrives to take her upstairs to wash and get dressed and she reaches for the cup. It's what she always does. We've come to read it- unfairly perhaps- as a delaying tactic.
"That'll be as cold as Christmas," I say.
She takes a sip.
"Boxing Day," she replies.