It was quite late to bed last night after my night of gadding around.
And it was not a bad night until morning greeted me with full force of more rain. I made brekkie, flexed, shoved H out in the rain and studied the weather forecast. The rain was scheduled to stop around 11.00. In the meantime, I watched the wind sweep it in gusty showers down the road.
I must mention potholes at this point. South Oxon has more than its fair share. Having driven along West Berkshire and North Hampshire country roads last night, I can confirm that South Oxon gets the gold medal. Very disappointing.
One of the worst is as you exit Underhill. It is quite well engraved in my mind now, but because it is usually full of water, it is quite easy to overlook it’s presence.
So I spent the earlier part of the day waiting for the rain to do as it was told and cease. It was unpunctual. 11.00 came and went and it was closer to midday before we reached Long Wittenham to stretch our legs across the field there. Yesterday’s Clump towered above us.
The weather was not very friendly due to quite a stiff breeze but the rain stayed away. I walked awhile with a man who had a very pretty Rumanian rescue dog, kokkoni-like, a bit smaller than H, but very friendly. He had worked on Lefkada for a while so was quite familiar with the Ionian islands. His dog was really cute, black and white. And it was a good walk.
Upon my return home, I set out to make a fish pie and a mixed fruit crumble and then summoned T to eat them. He promptly went in the shower which was extremely annoying after my efforts. I have to confess the crumble topping had been made in quantity a month or so ago and I have been slowly using it up. It is a useful strategy because it keeps well in the fridge.
Of course disappearing into the shower, meant it would be a good 30 minutes before he would be ready for my carefully prepared fish (and vegetable) pie. It would be cold. So what! It was cold and he did eat it.
But before that, I was left gobsmacked as he yelled for me to fetch him a ‘dry’ towel. Next time I will be deaf. He was standing in the ensuite with one towel wrapped round him angrily demanding another. I could not believe it.
Memo to self: organise some servants and a towel rota.
Maybe this is another downward step in the Alzheimer’s progress.
The remainder of the afternoon was not looking great so I made sure I was not in the same room so my anger could simmer in a relaxed way.
Of course T remembers nothing and has no insight as to the irritations and arrogance he presents.
Both my Friday night friends have mothers with dementia. Sue’s has suffered for years and been in a home for a long while (£220,000 so far). She is at a stage where she is ‘out of it ‘ now and also the LA are going to have to pick up the cost of care as her funds have run out.
Conversations over the last few months have indicated Jane’s mother is joining the club and is about to be diagnosed. But her deterioration has been very fast, almost at the stage where T is now from early concerns a year or so ago.
We are somewhere between stages 5 and 6. Thankfully no bowel or bladder problems. T certainly does not know phone number and may not know our address. He often does not know where we are or the time of day. The latter has been more obvious recently.
The evening drew on peacefully and before I knew it, I was in bed.
Thought for the Day
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