Winter at the sad cold old house, Dad at 90 endures

Winters at 90 years old The winter has set it.

The front door of the house at South Parade, right next to Dad’s bed in the downstairs front room, opens straight onto the street. Clearly a small porchway would protect the room from the cold. The door is opened frequently. The old door is unprotected from draughts even when closed. It should be a better more insulated protected opening to the room for the sake of whoever is in it.
My father’s resilience to harsh conditions was born from his childhood experience, he is hardy, less now though than earlier in his life.
£1000 or so might be sufficient to put in a better door providing more warmth in the front room. You do nothing, a new lavoratory seat, a microwave - took years and years to buy, in 2010! SS told me you never wanted it, YOU told me too. You knew best.
To heat the dinners I took to Dad I boiled water in saucepans on the dirty little slow archaic electric hot plates, the only cooking possibility there, even now, except for one £50 microwave.
Uncle John would have wished to do it, he would not have wanted his brother to face cold blasts of air at 90.
Father himself seems to have wasted most of the monies he encashed and kept, those raised a few years ago from Northern Rock. What did you take? More than half of the house has gone, my Mother has not had a penny of it she says and there is very little new to see in house improvements or maintenance(for the betterment of all who visit the property. That contrasts with the silliness of Father’s dinkie toys and assorted wall clocks from Argos most of which do not function now. The rows and rows of primroses and other flowers, plants and trees in pots and tubs which lined the length of the garden path have also disappeared, dead and gone. I am surprised to see Father has not followed them.
Uncle John would have been disbelieving that his money has been taken whilst Father lay in cardigans so torn and sad that he himself would not have used them even for working at his painting and decorating.
You, Mrs J H Davis, made it clear what his wishes were to Martha and I. And you and your husband have ignored them. You have refused to provide any information on the fate of my Uncle’s effects, monies and property, you did not advise me of his death or funeral. You handled it all very quietly with your children.
While I carried evening meals on two buses for father,heating them over boiling water on a dirty hotplate, you snaffled everything up.

adapted prayer

Gracious Father, I pray for your Church.
Fill it with your truth, and keep it in your peace,
Where it is corrupt, purge it;
where it is in error, direct it; where it is right, strengthen and confirm it;
where it needs help, provide for it;
where it is divided, heal it,
and unite it in your love,
through Jesus Christ our Saviour.
Amen

source St Guthlac's website