Open window, mouldy quiche

This time, when I visited Dad, the house was reasonably tidy by his current standards.  Mind, it was the day after Zoe's second session of the week so he'd hardly had time to get things messed up.  There were still the remains of a meal-for-one sitting on top of the microwave from the previous day, plus a box containing a Sainsbury's quiche which I took out and examined: it was thick with green mould.  Presumably he'd removed box from freezer quite a while back, forgotten about it and buried it.  I pointed it out to him, and as you can guess his reaction was oh yes, there's a mouldy quiche in that box, just fancy.  Would he have thrown it away had I not pointed it out?  Doubt it.  Would he have eaten it?  Of course not.  He would just have left it until someone else (usually Zoe) disposed of it for him.  In a rational person you'd decry this as the behaviour of a complete slob.  In Dad, the so-what attitude is part of his illness.

He gets around on a mobility scooter, which when not in use sits in the garage, where there's no electric socket.  If he needs to charge it, there is an extension lead which runs from a socket in the kitchen, along a worktop, through the window, across the back yard and into the garage.  When the scooter is fully charged, Dad just turns the juice off at the socket, leaving the cable in place

The garage is padlocked.  The window is open.  All the time.  Just enough to let the cable through, but it can be pulled as wide as you like, allowing access to even the plumpest of burglars.  And this is the house of my father, so careful of security he never leaves the front door unlocked nor even the key beside it.  I was aghast, told him so but I don't think my concern registered.  "Zoe's told me off about that as well", he said, matter of fact.  Women tell you off, it's what they do.  Men ignore then, it's what we do.  I tried to explain that if he was burgled, the insurance company might well refuse to cough up once they found that access had been gained by an open, unlocked, ground floor window.  I think he might have got the message but there's no guarantee it's sunk in.

The obvious solution to his problem is to get a weatherproof external socket put in an outside wall near the garage, a simple enough job for a competent electrician, but I'm not sure if Dad understands that.  I shall have to organise it myself.

Vulnerable adults, eh.  Actually, one of the crime prevention measures Dad took years ago might still stand hin in good stead. At the front of his house there's a highly visible burglar alarm box, just under the front bedroom window. It's a dummy, but apparently these work just as well in deterring villains as the real thing.