When I sleep in my dad’s house as I did two nights ago I sleep on the floor in the living room downstairs. When I want to go to sleep I have to try and get my dad to go upstairs to bed. He doesn’t go to bed till one or so normally, so that can be difficult. It reminds me of Samuel Beckett’s character Watt from his novel of the same name, who spends much time rearranging limited numbers of items in limited numbers of positions. In a famous scene he does this will pebbles (or are they coins?) into a set of pockets. My dad is like that. I am stretched out in the floor in sleeping position.

Dad:       I’ll switch the lights off

Me:         Right dad.

Dad:       I can’t see to go through now.

Me:         Put the hall light on.

Dad:       I haven’t locked the back door.

Me:        Right dad.

Dad       I’ll have to put the light on again.

Me:        Right dad.

Dad       I need that hall light on again.

Me:       Right dad.

Dad:     I didn’t take my pil.

Me:      Right dad. What’s it for?

Dad      Old people’s things.

Me:       Right dad.

Dad:     I’ll put the hall light on again.

Me:       Right dad.

Dad:     I can switch this light off now.

Me:       Right dad. Remember to switch the hall light off when you go up.

Dad:     Did I bolt the door?

Me:      Don’t know dad.

Dad:     I’ll put that light on.

And so on.

Martin Creed should live with my dad for a few nights. That’d sort him out.

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