When I worked in the home I wore a secret camera, which was recording for most of the time.
I worried that someone might spot the hidden lens, or the battery would fall out of my clothes.
Luckily neither of those things happened.
On one occasion I forgot to wear the fake glasses I had adopted as a partial disguise.
I’m from the Highlands and was worried that someone from my home town would come into the home and recognise me, so the disguise gave me a small reassurance.
Half way through a staff meeting, someone asked how I could see properly without my glasses on today?
I bumbled my way through an explanation of not having had my coffee yet and leaving them in the car by mistake. It was a sloppy mistake that I didn’t repeat.
There were days when the camera failed, or the battery ran out.
There were other days when I had to help the residents first and foremost, and was not able to switch the camera on.
I was clear on one thing from the outset – my priority had to be the residents and their needs.
That was the whole point of the investigation. Filming was secondary.
There were some incidents of poor care that I did not record on camera but I left with a clear conscience.
It was a privilege of this role to briefly cross paths with interesting, funny and charming characters, who led rich and colourful lives.
We sang songs together, danced in the corridor, hugged, discussed all manner of topics – from Caravaggio and Gaelic lessons to Donald Trump and dog walking – and laughed, lots.
Without realising it, the residents kept me going through a difficult job.
I left Castlehill Care Home on 9 August.
As I walked out the doors for the final time, one question repeated in my mind – surely they deserve better?
