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Thanks Jenny – or whatever your name is

Sometimes I despair.

Well, quite often, but here’s the latest.

In the knowledge that the offspring would visit to surprise their father on Fathers’ Day, I had surreptitiously purchased (and mostly hidden) some suitable snackable foodstuffs. The crisps and cakes were in my usual hiding place to prevent aforementioned father’s discovery and early consumption. I produced these immediately my daughter arrived, dumping them ceremoniously on the garden table (offspring don’t expect any sort of attractive presentation from me – it would make them laugh), and produced a bottle of chilled rosé.

I had also purchased healthier items, intended to offset the crisps, cakes and alcohol. Needless to say, with the excitement of seeing the offspring (and their father) happily chatting at a suitable outdoor distance, I completely forgot that these items were still lodged at the back of the fridge.

Until Monday evening, when I rediscovered them and realised that it will take me all week to consume them by myself. Or rather, three days of concentrated eating if I am to achieve this before their Use By dates. I spent the rest of Monday evening convinced that this is yet another sign that I don’t have long before dementia takes me completely.

Then this morning I read an article by Jenny Eclair in the Sunday Times Magazine which reminded me that memory loss is one of the many symptoms of the menopause. Her article made me laugh out loud at breakfast – an almost unheard of occurrence, although possibly underlining my mid-life madness to the other occupant of this house.  

Although I have a sporadic determination not to believe in the menopause as an actual thing, perhaps I will reassess and at least allow myself to classify some of my failings this way, rather than simply assuming my family history of dementia is charging towards me ever faster. Of course, I will have forgotten this by tomorrow. Or will find it immensely annoying. Or be too bloody hot to care!

Meanwhile, falafels for breakfast anyone?

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