Was it love at first sight?

Was it bollocks! It was lust at first sight and I'm sure that most long standing marriages started out this way.

It was late into the year of 1970 and the weather outside was cold, very cold but inside that pub it was warm and welcoming and, thankfully, the conversation was convivial as we had a smoke whilst imbibing our favourite tipples. No standing outside to smoke in all weathers in them days.

A vision in hot pants

Inside the pub  Mungo Jerry was extolling the virtues of women and the British summertime while brass monkeys were freezing their probverbial's off outside. We squaddies watched as the women danced while our egos picked out the woman of our desires...to use for one night only of course because when it comes to egos we men know they wont let us down, will they?

My eyes went straight to a vision in hot pants who was expertly dancing the evening away and I wanted more of her, my ego told me that it was possible after all.

Hot pants were all the rage in the late sixties and early seventies and with good reason, they accentuated the body beautiful and no woman can resist that that flatters them and their egos, yes, women have egos too, don't you know. So I did the manly thing and 'chatted her up' in between dances under the strains of that magical musical era that was the seventies.

Five foot two, eyes of blue. (Has anyone seen my gal.)

Ego aside even I was surprised when my then future wife kept coming back to me in between dancing with other men and I thought thoughts that only young men think...I'm in there!

Needless to say I wasn't 'in there' in any sense of the phrase and it took many months before I got even close to being 'in there.'

At that time Beryl worked as a chambermaid at the Windsor Castle Hotel and I resided at Victoria Barracks just around the corner.
That evening Beryl asked me if I was up for a party??? Bloody hell yes I was up for a party as it would keep me in the company of my desire. It was at that party that my ego went into overdrive.

At the party, in one of her friends rooms, Beryl was the life and soul of it and it was clear that she was having a good time, she talked and danced with everyone and my ego took a battering as I felt surplus to requirements and it was when she got up close and personal with an Italian waiter that I knew that I was not the center of her world tonight, and, on reflection, why should I be, we only met a few hours ago. I took my leave* of the party thinking I'd never meet her again...I was wrong, dead wrong.

It would be January '71' before I met her again, quite by chance.

addendum

Some readers of this blog may be excused for thinking "what the hell is this all to do with Alzheimers?" Well I will agree with you but I have a need to rationalise my possition through my past, and Beryl's past to try and fathom out the future, if that's possible. For example Beryl remembers nothing of our first meeting back then and she remembers nothing about our marriage in '71' but I have a need to remember for both of us. Please bear with me.

*Something happened before I left the party that shames me and I am reluctant to mention it but will do at a later date in this blog when I can summon up the courage.

To be continued...

Trials and trepidations of an Alzheimers carer

My first post on the subject of Alzheimer's.

The carer's perspective.

I do not intend this blog to be all about me, carer to my wife of 40 years this August the 14th and I am not trying to elicit sympathy for my plight as a 'carer' now that she has contracted Alzheimer's; my wife's care was a given when I first married her on the 14th of August 1971 and I don't need a piece of paper or a do-gooder (from the nanny state or from the street) to tell me where my duty lies.

On saying the above I do not intend to knock well meaning people who give me sound advice on how to proceed with Alzheimer's in relation to my wife's care nor do I wish to alienate myself from caring organisations that are solely there for the victims of this 'robber of a persons identity' and have no political agenda, because when a person or an organisation has a political agenda then their primary edict gets lost in the fug of the deception that is politics.

A bit of background goes a long way.

In 1970 I, a serving soldier in the Scots Guards, was stationed at Victoria barracks in Windsor, Berkshire. As an eighteen year old I was wet behind the ears and on reflection I thought I was the fookin' bees knees but still looked up to the older 'sweats' for guidance, which I soon realised was a massive mistake as your elders or 'betters' have their own take on life that is often the wrong path for you to follow but follow you do until it hits you that you are following the path of morons and future criminals.

One facet of a soldiers life was drink! Yes, the demon alcohol was our release from the endless drudgery that we had to endure; march, march, march, strip that weapon in xx number of minutes and rebuild it again etc, etc. As soldiers we would train for days and days and then drink ourselves stupid when we had that new fangled 'window' of opportunity but oh boy didn't we drink and smoke our way out out of that drudgery! I guess today we would be called binge drinkers and nicotine addicts.

So a soldiers 'down time' was going to the pub and getting, in modern terms, 'rat arsed whilst smoking numerous 'fags'' and occasionally the inevitable fight would follow but there was no 'stiff upper lip', I'll see you outside type of rubbish,  oh no, there would be 'glassings' and punches thrown and blood strewn carpets, but still the soldier would be up at the crack of dawn wondering what they did the night before and the inevitable consequences that would ensue.

So nothing new to me in this modern age of anti alcohol, anti drugs, anti smoking bull,  I've seen it all before and I'll see it all again but what I wont see is a coherent, fact based analysis that will make me a better carer of my wife and her and Alzheimer's! I hope I am proved wrong.

Amongst the garbage I found my diamond

By any standards it was a small pub and movement, when a few people were at the bar, was restricted somewhat, but still, there was other bars in the town of Windsor that we could go to later, the night was young after all...and then I saw her.

It was early evening when I first set eyes on my future wife Beryl, yes, I know, Beryl is not a modern name like Xander as my wife's hairdresser's daughter has called their child,  but to me that name, Beryl, is forever implanted in my mind as love and a gem in the firmament of my loves lost.

In the ensuing postings I will endevour to write about my fears for the future whilst talking about the present as I ramble on about the past as it relates to Beryl's dementia, I will try and show the funny side but will not lose sight of the seriousness of Alzheimer's...

To be continued...