You can learn to remember happily http://t.co/bZE23XOo - hope for boomers who might say if you can remember the 60s you weren't there...
252 days ago
Off to blabber on at the Kent Care Conf (I'd say speak, but that'd be both an over & an understatement) I'm looking forward to listening too
257 days ago
I've been saying it for ages. Now World Alz Rep says 27m people have undiagnosed dementia. Same in UK too. 750,000? Pah. Try doubling it.
257 days ago
Interestingly,
I never read any Beatrix Potter when younger, but Peter Rabbit was my loyal
companion.
He put up with a lot. I bit out his glass eyes, his nose fell off,
then a leg or two, and then his head. My grandma lovingly sewed him back
together each time. And I cuddled and cuddled and cuddled him, until his fur fell
off. Only the inside of his left ear escaped, reminding me of how soft he must
have been before my memories of him formed.
He went everywhere with me,
secreted away on childhood holidays to Wales, Guide camp, university, a move to
London, a move out of London. When I was younger, I believed he led his own
life when I was safely asleep - attending parties, meeting Enid Blyton (not
Beatrix Potter!), and having adventures; perhaps I still believe this.
He now
sits on my bookcase, well away from my small son’s grasp. He is only mine to
misuse and cuddle and love.
Interestingly, I never read any Beatrix Potter when younger, but Peter Rabbit was my loyal companion.
He put up with a lot. I bit out his glass eyes, his nose fell off, then a leg or two, and then his head. My grandma lovingly sewed him back together each time. And I cuddled and cuddled and cuddled him, until his fur fell off. Only the inside of his left ear escaped, reminding me of how soft he must have been before my memories of him formed.
He went everywhere with me, secreted away on childhood holidays to Wales, Guide camp, university, a move to London, a move out of London. When I was younger, I believed he led his own life when I was safely asleep - attending parties, meeting Enid Blyton (not Beatrix Potter!), and having adventures; perhaps I still believe this.
He now sits on my bookcase, well away from my small son’s grasp. He is only mine to misuse and cuddle and love.
Many thanks to Rachael Litherland