It’s 4:00 a.m. London time. I haven’t slept. I’m supposed to be up in 15 minutes anyway to go to the airport to meet Jim and Andrea. I can sleep on the train. I made the mistake of looking through Dad’s papers before I went to bed. I found bank statements showing adequate money, along with a recent eviction notice for unpaid rent and other overdue bills. He used to get his rent free, because he was always forgetting to pay the rent. Now they want him to fill out this huge form to prove that he still needs the subsidy, when the reason he needs the subsidy is that he can’t fill out the form. Frustrating. My Dad lives in squalor, yet he notices the smallest piece of litter on the street. He hasn’t cleaned the apartment since Kevin and I were here almost two years ago. He collects baby soothers he finds on the street. He eats Corn Flakes with water because he can’t be bothered buying milk anymore. He’s lost so much of his mental capacity but still not his humor. He said to another man with a cane today, “Race you.” He’s together in some ways, but he needs help. It’s so frustrating to be so far away so much of the time. I wish we could be closer. He needs help. I need help. Read this tonight, and it did me good.