Blue Suede Shoes

Mother is holding a glass jar of orange marmalade in her left hand while she lances a knife into the jars’ mouth with her right, nervously, as if she were extracting honey from a beehive. Her hands tremble so the knife ricochets back and forth against the glass as if she were playing a triangleContinue reading “Blue Suede Shoes”

Rice pudding killed my Father

I am making chocolate rice pudding when my Mother asks me if I plan to poison her. She’s crept up next to me at the stove and is pointing at the pudding with a wooden spoon.   ‘Not yet. Though if you stir the pudding while I am trying to mix the rice with the meltedContinue reading “Rice pudding killed my Father”

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?”

International Women’s Day

We’re celebrating International Women’s Day by searching for the Lost Batteries of Mother’s Hearing Aid, which sounds like a rare Indiana Jones DVD, but actually is a regular and tedious domestic ritual in which we hunt for the missing bronze batteries which power Mother’s hearing aid.   ‘They’re mischievous little buggers,’ says my Mother, wheneverContinue reading “International Women’s Day”