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6

March


A balance sheet for life. Friday March 6, 2015

For over three decades I have kept a personal diary. My husband now suffers from Alzheimer's, but he still really enjoys listening to the 'story' of our life. Some bits I 'skip', lots are horribly prophetical, and I confound people by correcting the deficiencies of their memories.

When the going got tough I would write a 'balance sheet' of the good and bad of the moment, the bottom line had to be accepted or acted upon. Blank spaces usually meant a 'down' time, because in 'good' times I never missed an entry - however hectic things were.

I have been doing Moodscope for over two years - some blogs I print and refer back to. One was Suzy's 'A few pretty things'. My 'balance sheet' now is that however bad things get I will find a pleasurable moment if possible.

After a particularly harrowing time it is a cup of coffee with a Zelenka Mass, Mozart's Requiem – the Messiah (nearly worn out).

When going out, even in near despair, it is smart clothes, matching jewellery, high heels and head held high – one thing I have found being the 'carer' is that one 'slumps'. Meal times, such an event, being passionate about table linen and china, are nearly a thing of the past – but, still, a candle and a single rose/marigold/nasturtium will give some semblance of elegance.

The 'few pretty things' brings back so many memories – we made many visits to India – a woman living on the pavement, with cardboard boxes between her and her neighbour, cooking for her family in a pretty sari. In Kerala, along the water ways, a man came out of his hovel, swam half way across the backwater, picked a water hyacinth, then swam back and put it in his wife's hair.

Sadly, at the moment, there is a 'debit' for which I can find no 'credit'. Our neighbour's cats have destroyed all our birds except the sparrows and a few tits. At night I am kept awake by bitter regrets of a cavalcade - of robin (I swear he said 'Good Morning'), little dunnocks, who waited till Robin was out of the way – he was territorial. Fledgling sparrows who would squeak for mum to feed them until they realised it was feed themselves or die. I am really in mourning for my little friends, and during the empty mornings in the garden have trouble, like Polyanna, in finding something to be 'glad' about.

The Gardener.
A Moodscope member.


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