Trauma with tablecloths
I’ve been thinking about tablecloths. As you do on a dank, damp, dark January afternoon. Nowhere in any of the Alzheimer’s literature...
I’ve been thinking about tablecloths. As you do on a dank, damp, dark January afternoon. Nowhere in any of the Alzheimer’s literature...
2017 was quite a year and, for once, I don’t mean Brexit and Trump. My turn-of-the-year reflections are rooted closer to home....
Ms Alzheimer’s is an especially unwelcome presence at Christmas but our first festive season with her recognised in our midst has been...
At our last appointment with the consultant My Loved One and I agreed, in principle, that we would – if asked –...
Elgar’s In the South, written in 1904 and the oldest work of the afternoon, was a resounding opener in this all twentieth century programme....
On Sunday I played (violin) in a little Christmas concert in Folkestone alongside my sister, a fellow fiddler. We had made complicated...
Alzheimer’s, they tell us, is progressive brain cell death. Over a course of time the total brain size shrinks because the tissue...
One of the saddest things about everyday life with Miss A is watching her polluting My Loved One’s mind. “I’m getting very...