After a great workout this morning, I was summoned by cell phone for an emergency trip to my mother's residence treatment facility. No, not a medical emergency, a chocolate one. It seems that chocolate is the one thing left for her to enjoy. By the time I got there, though, she'd gone to sleep, and my Dad and my sister were waiting outside for me. I haven't seen my Mom since that first day, last week, because I think it does her more harm than good. She doesn't know me, and my being there with my Dad would just confuse her.

Funnily enough, she can still make my family laugh. According to my Dad and sister, the other day they were sitting with her in the garden of the facility, and this old woman came up to them and said that nobody ever came to visit her, and that sometimes she could just die with loneliness. My Mother said "Are you trying to depress us?" It's horribly said for the old woman, but my Dad and sister couldn't help bursting out with laughter.

The more time I spend with Dad, the more I enjoy and appreciate him. Today I drove us all - Kirstie and my Dad - to Cambridge. On the way I asked Dad how he'd slept last night. For a change, the reason he'd slept badly wasn't worrying about my mother. It was because he'd been writing a story, and had woken up early trying to figure out how to make it better. Dad's a natural story-teller, and I always wish he'd tried to write something serious and get it published.

None of us had been to Cambridge before, but I suppose our expectations weren't too high, since my philistine sister Sally had said she'd been there and there was nothing to see. She must have gotten no further than the shops on the high street, because Cambridge is emphatically not a city with nothing to see. I found it completely charming, and could easily imagine living there. Not only for the beautiful streets, ancient buildings, parks, the canal and the cute, fresh-faced students, but also for the cultural activities. We stopped in this musty old bookstore, where I bought a fifty-year old edition of a Trollope novel, and on the wall were posters and fliers for upcoming plays, art-shows, and concerts. And this is only Summer, when most of the students are away.

Kirstie and Dad surrounded by flowers in Westcott House

More flowers

Punting on the River Ouse, next to St Johns College, which recently celebrated its five-hundredth anniversary.

My Dad must have snapped this one of me as I took a photo for two Swedish girls

Kirstie and I look like we're doing that Brazilian dancing thing.

Jesus College

Not sure which one this is, but it's quite a pile of bricks.

Cute college type. John Boy anybody?