A story about supporting a person with dementia in the community “Hello, is this my father? This is your number one daughter speaking.” There is an emergency call from my father, the first for the day. Actually, they’re all emergency calls, generated by a red button device that’s been sitting next to his chair for a few… Read More
A smile lights up his face as I knock on the back door. “You are here,” he says, as he keeps wiping the sink. We don’t do hugs much, never have. He has shrunk and become more stooped in the three months since I’ve seen him. Surely he’s not wearing the same clothes I saw… Read More
We had snow last week, so my memories turned to summer, even though I know about the importance of living in the moment: my days are numbered, let’s enjoy all the ones that are left (no, I don’t have a terminal disease, but I’m not expecting to live for ever). I’ve already mentioned I’m not… Read More
The green landscape of my childhood is in contrast to the generally drought stricken parts of Australia that I’ve lived in – until it floods in Oz, we don’t do weather in half measures here. I used to visit my grandmother’s two sisters, my great-aunts, where I learned about the benefits of having aunties. The… Read More
Some mornings are so exquisite that words fail me. Today there was a unexpected moment, despite two pet rabbits nibbling on my frosted grass – accidental lawnmowers, I’m happy to share my grass but please don’t prune the camellias. My favourite poet, who always has words for the times that I don’t, wrote about a… Read More
Surviving. Smiling. I wonder if anyone else has ever built a house with gritted teeth and a tight smile, as I did. I liked the old place you see, the one that’s no longer there. I had run from my house in middle-of-the-day darkness, with flames sprouting from the bushes, leaping to take possession of… Read More
… Leonard Woolf, a middle-aged man of letters, donned two pairs of socks and pruned apples in Sussex’s frozen January. The garden was his personal struggle with a conflicted but beloved cosmos. It would not last, and neither would he. But it was worth holding onto, for precisely the reason books were worth reading… Read More