Tony Robinson is perhaps best known for his role as Baldrick in “Blackadder” and as the presenter of Channel 4’s “Time Team”, but he has enjoyed a hugely varied career.

He began as a child actor, before training at the Central School of Speech and Drama. He went on to appear in and direct numerous stage productions, including stints at the National Theatre, Chichester and the RSC. He has appeared in numerous television series including “Who Dares Wins” and “My Wonderful Life”. As a writer of children’s television series, including “Fat Tulip’s Garden”, “Odysseus” and “Blood and Honey”, he has won two Royal Television Society awards and a BAFTA. He has written several historical books for both adults and children, including “The Worst Jobs in History”, “Archaeology is Rubbish – a Beginner’s Guide”, “In search of British Heroes” and “Tony Robinson’s Kings and Queens”. He has made several television documentaries on subjects such as the Peasants’ Revolt, the Roman Emperors, Robin Hood and most recently, “The Real da Vinci Code”. He is a former vice president of Equity and served for four years on the National Executive Committee of the Labour Party. Among his charitable commitments, he works closely with Help the Aged, Action on Elder Abuse and the Alzheimer’s Society.

Both Tony’s late parents suffered confusion and frailty towards the end of their lives, leading Tony to make a documentary “Me and My Mum”, to be screened on Channel 4 on March 29th, in which he starts from his personal experiences to explore the impact of care on older people, their carers and our societal response to it.

The programme is the first of four prime time documentaries called, “The Problem with old people” being shown by Channel 4, starting 29 March at 9.00 p.m.

In advance of the Tony Robinson programme’s screening, I interviewed him.

Why did you want to make this programme?
“For several years, watching my kids grow up was the dominant theme of my personal life. This coincided in my professional life, with my making a lot of children’s television. But for the last few years, the problems suffered by my parents made confusion and frailty in older people my biggest personal concern. After my dad died, I wrote the occasional article about him – but really using his story and my own experiences to express my frustration and explore some of the issues about the distress suffered by so many older people and their families. When my mum became unwell (and sadly died during the making of “Me and My Mum”), my position in the media gave me a platform to explore the issues and make a case that things must change. Older people are simply not at the front of societal or political agendas when compared, for instance, to children. Carers often get a very raw deal. And there is an extraordinary disjunction between our rhetoric about caring for older people and the reality of how the system treats many of them.”

What were your experiences with your father?
“My dad was from a working class East End family. He served throughout World War Two, worked up the ranks as a local government officer, saved very carefully and looked after his family. He also had a lively mind and read avidly. In short, he was the kind of model, self-reliant citizen, successive governments would have encouraged. For a couple of years in his retirement, he would say to me repeatedly that he was feeling depressed or that his memory wasn’t so good any more. Of course, as he valued intellectual stimulation so much, he maintained a good social front and my mother did her best to cover for him. On top of that, I suppose I didn’t want to confront the fact that he was going down hill and was in denial myself, so I jollied him along and didn’t quite believe there was a problem – which I still feel guilty about today.

Anyway, late one night, my mother phoned me in a state, saying that Dad was very confused. He got on the phone and started coming out with very agitated, slightly paranoid things. He wanted me to come over right now and turn all the cups round so the handles were facing the same way, unplug all the electrics, etc. After that episode, it was hard to deny there was a problem.

One thing which still makes me very angry is the response from the GP. He was the one person we felt we could turn to for help. Every time we went, my dad put on a convincing performance to mask his worsening memory and the doctor didn’t seem to take all our descriptions of dad’s day to day behaviour seriously, even though we were pleading for help. We got more support from friends who lived on the street. Things came to a head when Dad was admitted to hospital with a heart attack. Once he was on the wards, it was plain to see how confused he was and after two weeks he was moved to a psychiatric hospital. Unfortunately, this was in the one local place – the old workhouse/asylum, he had said throughout his life he never wanted to go to. It was a mixed, open plan ward and there were a number of really disturbed patients – some female, who were incontinent, exposed or constantly shouting and swearing. The environment was so distressing for my mum that she couldn’t really be much use to Dad when she visited. In the meantime, he seemed to think he was back in the war and dealt with his distress by marching around constantly. The change happened when they found a sedative that took the edge off his fear – some of it a real terror of losing his intellect. When he did get home and out of that environment, he calmed down, but of course, there was now a tremendous caring burden for my mum to cope with.”

And what about your Mother?
“Well, after my dad died, I suppose she was becoming a little forgetful at home, but she wouldn’t admit to, or discuss this. She studiously avoided any discussion of her possible future care needs – almost as if entertaining the idea of getting frailer or needing care would make it happen. Having learnt from my experience with Dad, I wanted to help get things right this time. But just as with my dad, there was tremendous denial – perhaps reflecting a wider issue in society and in a generation which would rather not face up to these things. Another echo of my father’s situation was that an admission to hospital ended up triggering a crisis.

Despite her forgetfulness, Mum had been physically fairly strong and coping independently at home, when she was admitted for routine surgery on varicose veins. To this day, I am not sure quite what happened, but after the anaesthetic, she ended up on ITU with pneumonia, pleurisy and brain damage. She never regained her independence. As well as her memory and motivation getting much worse, she was immobile and required assistance with toileting, feeding, even moving in bed. I had to find her a nursing home, where she remained until she died.”

What other problems have you observed or encountered in “the system”
“Well even as an articulate middle class person with a public profile – someone who would supposedly know how to get the right information - I found it incredibly hard, during either of my parents’ hospitalisations to discover their diagnosis, their prognosis, what I could expect to deal with in the future etc. Although some people were helpful with pieces of technical information, it was harder still for anyone to deal with you, taking into account your emotional state at the time. I mean, these were some of the most profoundly distressing experiences in my life (as well as in those of my parents) and in that state it can be hard to take everything in or to think straight. And the guilt associated with having to put your own parent into care (especially if you have always promised that this would not happen) is profound (an issue I explore in the documentary). Also, the staff did their best to give my mother basic safety and comfort in her care home, but I think the experience of being there was profoundly dehumanising for her. Not only the patronising way in which older people are often talked to and the institutionalisation, but also little personal things that can make such a difference, if you don’t have much of your individual expression and self-esteem left. For instance, her personal cosmetics and toiletries – often presents from the family, would repeatedly be lost, thrown away or end up in another resident’s room. Yet the staff had lost sight of why this was so distressing.

I was also angry, though not about any personal financial loss, that the £100,000 my dad had assiduously saved for his family and retirement, on a modest income, now all had to go on paying for long term care and that the banding assessment for “free” nursing contributions amounted to only £30 per week, despite my mother being so obviously disabled and dependent. Something seemed wrong with a system which would make that judgement after both my parents had paid into national insurance their whole lives. Looking back further, it also struck me that when Mum was herself the main carer for my dad, the amount of attendance allowance was so small. All that, combined with the depersonalising effects of care and my difficulties in obtaining information, seemed to indicate a far from satisfactory system.”

What do you think of governmental or societal attitudes to older people?
“Well, I have already mentioned that it’s a subject which people seem to be in denial about and that our values seem to emphasise the issues of the young far more than those of the old. And, despite initiatives such as the older people’s NSF, I still think that the concerns of older people, their carers and more equitable funding of care, all of which cut right across wealth and social class, have not been a priority for successive governments. I also think there is a mismatch between the rhetoric and box ticking which makes all the right noises about “person-centred care” and what actually happens. In addition to my concerns about care homes, I also think the government policy to encourage people to stay in their own homes might sound good on paper, but the reality is often a very limited existence, which might guarantee a basic level of safety but doesn’t allow any meaningful or individualised existence for them or their carers. Even NICE – ironically in view of its acronym, has severely restricted the use of memory enhancing drugs. Up to two years’ modest improvement in the quality of life for older people with dementia could provide significant respite for carers and is surely worth funding.”

How do you think things can change?
“Well, when I talk about politics, I mean this in a wider sense than parliamentary or party politics. Many politicians are sincere in their efforts to improve people’s lot – as I know from my experience in the Labour party. However, their priorities often reflect those of society. If we think about the sea change in my lifetime in attitudes to women, homosexuality or the environment, it is certainly possible that things can change for the better. In a hundred years, I hope that we will look back on our current treatment of the elderly with the same sense of horror with which nowadays we view child labour or our treatment of single mothers in Victorian times.

For real change to occur we need persistent radical, aggressive, unreasonable, bloody-minded campaigning and lobbying. History shows that nothing else is likely to work. But perhaps the key is that my generation – the baby boomers, are uniquely self obsessed. When they begin to realise that many of them will become frail, old, demented and in need of care, they will start to agitate with their usual vigour about attitudes which affect their life. If the outcome is better care for older people, then so be it.”

Interview conducted by
David Oliver
BGS Deputy Hon Secretary