Forgive me blogchums, for I have sinned; it’s been four months since my last post …
Ok, firstly, let me tell you what we’re NOT going to do. We’re not going to waste time by getting into a pitiful plethora of explanations, excuses and apologising. I had a tough couple of months and then just felt lazy and uninspired and pretty much wanted to spend my free time hanging out, watching films, reading books and generally lounging around in my pj’s a lot.
Deal with it :)
Ok, so maybe there was a little bit of an explanation there (dammit!) … but there’ll be no apologies!
Sorry. (GAH!)
Now then, what we ARE going to do is the “We’re such old friends, we can not see or speak to each other for MONTHS and it will still seem like we only just spoke yesterday” thing.
You know that "thing", right?
Good.
So, my Grandfather has onset dementia (cheery subject, no? Believe me, after the grotty few days I’m having, it seems like a veritable hoot), it’s not alzheimers, thankfully, and it doesn’t seem to be progressing particularly fast … which is why I feel comfortable talking about it in a semi-comical way in a blog post.
Sadly his personality has changed somewhat, and it has to be said, not really for the better. But he still functions at a reasonable level, he’s just extremely forgetful and very, very slow (he also gives a whole new meaning to the word “repetitive” … but that’s another post). It’s only very occasionally distressing (for us, never him, frankly, he hasn’t got a clue and blithely goes about his day), more often than not it’s just a bit frustrating, and at times can be rather amusing. (I know that may seem heartless to some people, but sometimes finding the funny side of things is the only way we can deal with it)
Oh … and he can’t always be bothered to get dressed, shave or brush his hair.
Yes, sometimes he can look a bit … out there.
Anyway, a couple of months ago I was at home, in the kitchen, making tea. It was late afternoon so we weren’t really expecting anybody to call round. I was therefore, mildly surprised to hear an imperative knock on the kitchen door.
I opened it, and there stood a little old lady. At least, as far as I could tell it was a little old lady, since she had a large woolly hat, practically pulled down past her eyebrows and the longest, thickest scarf wrapped several dozen times around her neck, so that all I could actually see was a small, pointed nose and a pair of beady, blue eyes.
By the way … the scarf is worth mentioning. I think Cruella De Vil finally got tired of chasing Dalmatian puppies and went for the easy kill, got the muppets from Sesame Street instead; apparently they are now keeping the noses of elderly women in Norfolk warm. I definitely saw a bit of Oscar the Grouch, Elmo and, if I’m not mistaken, Grover (what the heck was Grover, anyway?) in the woolly mix.
Now, I know what you’re thinking, I can see you rolling your eyes and muttering “here she goes again with one of her tales about loopy, old people”. But I promise you, the town I live in is just that kind of place. Basically, it’s where old people from London, who are affluent (but not affluent enough to buy somewhere really decent, like Cornwall or Devon) come to die.
Ergo, an awful lot of strange, elderly folk wandering around.
So, this little old lady is standing there, staring at me. I didn’t have a clue who she was:
Me: Hello! Can I help you?
Little Old Lady (LOL?): Is June there?
Me: Er, no, I’m sorry, I think you must have the wrong house
LOL: Are you sure? (said accompanied by a suspicious squint)
Me: Yes, I’m absolutely positive
LOL: Do you know June?
Me: No, I’m afraid I don’t, neither of the neighbours are called June either
LOL: No, that’s because she doesn’t live next door!
Me: Well, (getting ever so slightly defensive now) I can assure you that she doesn’t live here either
LOL: (hard, squinty-eyed look)
I was just about to indignantly offer to give her a guided search of the property and grounds when my Grandfather shuffled into the kitchen. It was one of his off days. He didn’t have a shirt on, just his vest, about 5 days growth of beard and a hairstyle that could only be generously described as “flyaway”.
Grandfather: Hello, I thought I heard voices
Me: Grandad, this lady is looking …
LOL: (cutting in) Is June here?
As I said, my Grandfather is very slow; he is the beloved, old Commodore 64 of the family, no intel Celeron for him; you could almost hear the squealing sound as the data loaded. Finally, after a good minute of painful silence …
Grandfather: No! There’s no June here!
At this point I was bracing myself for a full onslaught of incredulous and hostile interrogation, so imagine my surprise when instead she gave him a beaming smile … at least, her eyes looked as though she might be beaming under her woolly armour, and cheerily said,
LOL: Righty’oh! Sorry to have troubled you!
As my Grandfather shuffled his way back to his armchair, I stood on the doorstep, mystified and more than a little bit miffed that an elderly man, who looked like he’d recently jumped out of Bedlam’s comfiest crib and escaped, was clearly more credible than I was!!
Did I get an apology or a thank you? NO! I got a supercilious sniff and then a couple of mistrustful, backward glances!!
There’s no accounting for some folk!
Have a lovely weekend :) I’ll be back, I have all kinds of things to tell you …
