The sector that creates special memories by Ann Elliott

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I have been staying with my dad for the past few days so we can spend some time remembering my mum who died ten years ago this week. Normally, I arrive with husband, dog and various family members and it’s all a bit frenetic but, this time, it was just me – and him. He is 91, very deaf, really unstable on his feet, takes heart medication, has diabetes, an appalling memory and one knee that constantly collapses underneath him but he still lives on his own and is stoically independent.

?I do find it a bit sad that someone who was once so energetic, ambitious (he was chief environmental officer for the largest metropolitan county in the UK at one point in his career) and passionate about life should face the challenges that he does, but he is very philosophical, constantly wanting to learn new things and unfailingly enthusiastic about his painting, gardening and socialising. He doesn’t moan and he doesn’t look back.

?I have tried for the past few days to live life through his eyes. Numb fingers that find it difficult to use iPhone keypads and often get numbers and letters wrong. Deaf ears that can’t hear what doctors (and others) tell him over the phone and a poor memory that mean any imparted knowledge isn’t retained. A worried mind that regards much communication with suspicion but making phone calls to verify information is not easy. Shaky hands that spill drinks, drop food, can’t tie shoelaces or unscrew jars and cannot write clearly. Wasted muscles that can’t put the bins out, change beds, carry shopping or cook very satisfactorily.

?I am in awe at his desire to keep going and not be defeated even though there is no cure for his memory, hearing, instability or shakiness.

?So, what a joy it is to go out and enjoy a meal and see him relax. I took him to The Devonshire Arms near Skipton for lunch on Monday. I park in a disabled space so he doesn’t have to walk very far but feel very guilty that I don’t have a disabled badge and end up worrying about it all through lunch. I look down at the ground all the time when walking in with him to ensure that no steps or obstacles can trip him up and send him flying. I place drink away from him, and the table close to him, to minimise spillages. I hope the loos aren’t up steps.

?The service is friendly, warm and caring – they look after dad without being patronising. The menu is perfect for him and we eat three wonderful courses outside in the sunshine. He says he will pay but puts his PIN into the card machine incorrectly three times – prompting a whole new round of phone calls the next day for a new card and new PIN. A fresh nightmare.

?On Tuesday, we went to Valentino’s in Bingley, which I can’t recommend highly enough and then, on Wednesday, had lunch at Dick Hudson’s, a Vintage Inn that looks out over the Aire Valley below. He loved it and so did I. He could hear me speak and the waitresses too. They were brilliant. The food was tasty, nicely presented and the right portion size for dad. The walk back to the car was a bit unsteady but that might have been the bottle of Peroni he had rather than the path itself.

?Our meals out were wonderful diversions for my dad from the challenges of living on his own at 91 and of wanting to constantly prove that he can do it (with help) and doesn’t need to move into a home. For me, they were very precious moments – of sitting with my wonderful dad eating lovely food and chatting away. We forgot everything else and we just lived for the moment – me and dad. Just us.

?Hospitality does this. It creates these moments that will live in our memories forever. Everyone who works in hospitality helps bring it all together and make it happen. Thank you to all who made our time together so special.

Ann Elliott is a hospitality strategist, connector and adviser

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