The gales have struck our house this morning.  Maureen woke up like a tornado.  Someone had stolen her dressing gown.  The one that her daughter bought her.  The  parents’ of the miscreants were not married if you know what I mean: language reserved for the lowest of the low.

My offer of help was turned down.  She is wanted to search all the rooms in this place.  All Maureen needed to know was if this precious item of clothing was in the wash?  She was quite capable of looking for it herself.

Some twenty minutes later it is found in her wardrobe.  There are so many people coming into this house that they put stuff anywhere – sometimes they take it away.  They are wicked to move or take her stuff.

The above is an extract, and is not quoted: it aims to summarise Maureen’s presentation this morning. It is obvious what I can do to prevent such outbursts in the future: make sure precious items are in their correct places.  That is no simple task as I haven’t got eyes in the back of my head.  My well organised wife is no longer – she put stuff in the first available place.  But I have to do more to minimise her distress.

I have been a bit dumb struck this morning.  After my initial offer of help was rebuked I stayed in the background:  hoping the storm would blow over.  As a convert to Compassionate Communication  I have not corrected her over the significance of the dressing gown.  Maureen thinks Denise, her departed daughter, bought it for her and that is why it is so precious.  In fact yours truly spent ages finding that dressing gown; eventually buying it from BHS in Leicester but no point in telling her that!  It is special because it reminds her of one that Colin, her son, bought her years ago.  I always call it her Mohammed Ali dressing gown as it reminds me of what the Great Man used to wear as he entered the ring.  So it’s special to us both in all sorts of ways:  must keep it within view in future.

The only saving grace in all of this is things change so quickly with vascular dementia: ‘Mrs Angry’ could easily revert back to being my lovely wife before breakfast.  Serving her more tea in bed can only help.  I think it was Dennis Skinner who used to say: ‘Know thee place lad’.