Walking boots, sweaty socks and scary phonecalls

I take off my walking boots and sweaty socks in the porch of the cottage and hobble bare foot to the kitchen mantel piece, where my mobile phone is charging below a map of the Brecon Beacons.  The family and I have been out walking along the River Usk for over four hours and weContinue reading “Walking boots, sweaty socks and scary phonecalls”

Gwyneth Paltrow helps Mother

‘Like the ‘Play that Went Wrong’?’ asks my Son.   ‘Or ‘One flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest’?’ says my Wife.  I’m trying to get them to understand how I feel but they don’t get it. Whoever coined the phrase ‘a problem shared is a problem halved’ couldn’t do basic Maths. Our psychodrama plays out acrossContinue reading “Gwyneth Paltrow helps Mother”

Frank Sinatra?

Mother is reading about Margaret Mackie, the pensioner, whose version of ‘My Way’ has been in the charts recently. Mrs Mackie has dementia. But it hasn’t stopped her giving Ed Sheeran, James Blunt and Stormzy a run for their royalties while raising awareness of dementia.  ‘Good for her. You can’t beat old-fashioned pluck. You don’t see enough ofContinue reading “Frank Sinatra?”

Reeling in the years

There is a black and white picture of Mother on our sitting room wall. She’s in an editing suite. It is 1941. She is working at Denham Studios as a third assistant editor on a film called ‘One of Our Aircraft is Missing’. In her left hand she is gently pinching a length of filmContinue reading “Reeling in the years”

Kitchen sink

Mother’s pink pyjamas are soaking in my favourite copper stock pot on the stove. Meanwhile, she is kneading her underwear in the kitchen sink like Mary Berry with a batch of sour dough. I can’t say I’m chuffed by the sight. The stock pot is French and very expensive. Its tanned sheen stirs up memoriesContinue reading “Kitchen sink”