My dad has just had a massive diabetic hypo. I have seen one before but thought it was general illness. This time I tested his blood. My hope is that next time he knows what is happening, because he would rather fall and break bones than admit to an illness he does not understand.

When this kind of thing happens it makes wonder if I should move back, it is not as if my art or ‘career’ prospects will suffer for not being in Bradford. My unstressed reasoning is that I will do what I have to when I have to. My stressed thinking, like I have been having for the last few days, is that being with my parents would be a film noirnightmare, or an escape route.

I will await developments, as I have been doing for all my life. If one of them falls seriously ill, or worse, I will step up to the mark. Anything more morally complicated will have to wait.

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