I sympathise more than is comfortable, Helen: for the last months of my father's life, he'd been parked in a place which simply couldn't be called a "care home" without contravening the Trades Desciptions Act,* and I'm convinced that it accelerated his decline. There is still residual bad blood on my side of the family, over a year later. (It was entirely fitting, and would have suited my father's sense of humour and of justice, that he died two days before the next month's payment to the alleged "care home" was due.)

* Good to view, hell to endure; expensive, but cheaply done. The expression "fur coat and no knickers" was used, more than once, by those of us who saw the lack of staff, and of care, behind the glossy front.