My mother-in-law died last week; just another winter victim of a bug that deepened into pneumonia. But Mary was fortunate: she had a long, happy life, nearly made it to 91, was secure, well-fed and warm.

She passed away peacefully in her own bed surrounded by a caring family that happened to include her daughters, grandchildren and me.

The rest of the family? Well, in all honesty, I don't know nearly enough about them and now, I suppose, it's too late.

What I can tell you is that a better bunch of people would be hard to find; four came to the funeral because their shifts allowed it.

Mary, you see, spent her last 17 years in a council old folk's home.

A couple of days before she died, and it was sadly obvious that she would, a member of staff told us her GP had suggested she could be moved to hospital.

The staff, that other family, were adamant that if she was to die it would be with whatever comfort they, and us, could offer.

Mary was the home's longest resident and a bit of a mascot.

We learned, after she died, that some staff would visit her in her room and gossip, moan and share their worries.

Mary was a great listener but probably never understood and certainly could never let on. Dementia can be like that but she enjoyed the company.

During the four days my wife and I spent at her bedside, we discovered more about a care home than we ever could on our two, sometimes three, visits a week.

We listened as they helped an elderly woman with a suspected dislocated hip; marvelled at the way they coped with another resident, hopelessly and helplessly incontinent yet vocal in her demands.

There was plenty of laughter too as they cajoled often childlike, residents into taking medicine or having breakfast, baths, and hair-dos.

The way they looked after us too went far beyond duty: tea, toast, soup and blankets and pillows for the night shift.

How they comforted my wife when her mother slipped away.

Glasgow City Council has a grand plan to close 16 care homes and rebuild with five, offering "much-improved standards".

Yet the fate of those 16 sites and 50 fewer places against the background of an ageing population and fragmented families makes me wonder whether the entire exercise is driven by cost-cutting, not care.

Ignore the headline £72million investment figure and ask what the sites are worth and how much the council will save.

And think too about loneliness. Five centralised homes instead of 16 local units within communities - some relatives will have all the excuse they need not to visit.

When city councillors meet tomorrow they will decide on hard facts and reports provided by officials.

Compassion, I fear, died long ago.