The Golden Fleece

The Golden Fleece Today my wife and I went to look at an old people’s home, the entrance looked hotel like and had a reception and the girl who manned it wore a starched, white uniform. She showed us around told us that every room double or single had a shower and a tea kitchen and fridge. And that we came to the main room where the patients sat, sorry they are called guests; it was nice only no one spoke people with open mouths sat watching telly and the air had a feeling of despondency and a faint smell of urine. Sometimes I feel like Jason’s old dog, it remembers his master In my case my youth, but who is to take care of me now?