Birthday in Prison

Birthday in Prison
It is always a mixture of trepidation and pleasure visiting my grandparents. They live in a
different world. As I enter the modest care home flat I watch Granddad’s brain working
overtime. His blue eyes have not lost their sparkle but it is clear to see that my name will
not come to him easily.
“Tom,” he starts, and I feel elated that he has recognised me, “good to see you, son. You
know, it’s not so bad being in prison really. They look after us well, and this lady here is
with me most of the day! She is good company and we often have our meals together. So
nice to see the lovely Welsh countryside from in here, too,” he continues but I struggle to
see beyond the drab perimeter fence outside the window. “Let me show you around, son,”
he offers as he always does when I visit. Naturally, I don’t bother to correct him that he is
one generation out.
Before I get the chance to present him with his 97
th
birthday cake he dresses up in hat and
scarf, ready to provide me with the umpteenth guided tour around the care home. Sighing I
drop the box with the cake on a small table. Grandma shakes her head and follows us
silently out of the apartment into the corridor.
Passing through the large day room we can finally enjoy the view. We are definitely in Kent
but Granddad is still mumbling to himself about the valleys, the miners and the prisoners.
“They even have a choir here, you know!” he announces proudly. I am just hoping that he
is not going to start singing now.
Greeting his fellow inmates on the way he marches on towards the home’s entrance hall.
We soon arrive in the reception area. Like a man possessed Granddad rushes to the front
desk, his face grey and thunderous. I first look at Grandma whose resigned expression
makes me feel a little sad, then at the young care assistant behind the counter.
Granddad’s shaky hands grab a glossy brochure from the neat pile displayed for visitors.
His head moves from the magazine to the walls, to the nurse, then to the doors and
windows and back again. “Now look at this, son,” he says holding the booklet aloft. “That’s
amazing - they have a place in Kent, exactly like this one! Same walls, same staff, same
pictures, just like this but in Kent!”