I arrive at Shipston where my father spends most of his time sitting in a big chair in the main room watching quality TV such as Midsommer Murders, where he is still able to spot the killer well before Inspector Barnaby. This is good. My father has watched most Midsommer's at least five times so when he cannot beat the fuzz to calling out the killer it will be a sign that Alzheimer's really is kicking in.
With I being his Sunday minder, there are three newspapers brought in for him: The Times, Telegraph and Mail. "Oh I do like the Mail" he says. My PC sisters will only bring him the Times and even that, they make clear, is not reading material they approve of.
Naturally, I would buy him the left wing rag the Observer. I - being on the right - believe in free speech and liberty. But my father anjd I are agreed that the Guardian on Sunday is just plan boring and annoying in its virtue signalling.
But one can see the main reading matter are his books. Right now, by a half finished bottle of red, I see a copy of "The Vlachs" by TJ Winnifrith. He says that it is a jolly good read and, unlike so many other books, devoid of factual errors. We Winnifriths, modest men but - to misquote Churchill - with so little to be modest about.
PS. My father says that The Vlach's is not the best book he is reading right now. That would be "Badlands Borderlands" by er...TJ Winnifrith