Blurred; through a slightly tinted windshield - this is a strange shot, but there again, being slightly out of focus and surreal pretty much sums up my current presence in London. No immediate dire emergency - but there again, a rapid escalation of difficulties for my parents. My mother's slowly developing dementia has suddenly plunged into a paranoid and delusional realm - not just incessant and anxious repetition, but thinking "they" are trying to poison her; to lock me out of the house; to take my father away; that there are twinkly stars on the bedroom ceiling; that there's a choir singing "Auld Lang Syne" in the garden, and so on. That last belief is how her brain is processing the sound of distant trains. And my father is exhausted, anemic, and has other woes. So here I am, trying to offer consolation and calm to my mother; another pair of hands to my father; some advice to the carer who will be coming in on a regular basis, and sort out what's best for everyone. You may well imagine how super-grateful I was to have my cousin Peter meeting me at LHR and driving me to Wimbledon, on a perfect blustery mid-November autumnal day.
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