Yesterday was a good day despite Maureen being tired after her evening with Clarice: she said her aunty never stopped talking while I was out watching the Sky Blues on T V.  I wouldn’t be at all surprised as her uncle Dennis and I often used to say ‘listen to them they are like a couple of teenagers when they get together’.  Despite needing plenty of rest she responded well to the new regime.

Early on I thought my new plans were doomed to failure when I asked her to stir the porridge.  She did it begrudgingly: grumbling about it being my job.  Then she announced that she had never liked porridge and said she didn’t want any.  One of the things I have learned is that ‘no’ often means ‘not now’, and a few minutes later she was at the table with spoon in hand.

Maureen was eager to help with the preparation of a very late lunch.  She worked well peeling and chopping vegetables with minimal help.  We were both delighted with the meal and my raspberry surprise for sweet hit the spot.  I knew I’d be onto a winner with using her favourite fruit.

As dusk set in I suggested a late shopping expedition into Cleethorpes.  Once again I turned a ‘no’ into a yes persuading her that we would be able to park right outside the Frozen Food shop.  Once inside I knew I had backed a winner as we came across an old face that Maureen is particularly fond of.  Lisa was lovely with Maureen and kept her arm around her as they chatted on the banks of the freezers.  I am pretty sure Lisa’s speech difficulties bring back happy memories of one of Maureen’s aunties who was deaf and dumb.

I am not intending to get carried away with the positive signs from yesterday: one swallow does not make a summer.  It’s a case once again of Maureen’s advice of ‘slowly, slowly catchee monkey’ and if I keep my nerve our journey might become a little brighter than it has been for a while.

As night followed day I got a stark reminder that Mrs Dementia is never far away.  Maureen appeared at the top of the stairs at 11.15pm as I sat at the keyboard.   She had woken from napping on the sofa and was worried that she is late for school or some other appointment.  I did my best to reassure her that it is Saturday night and she hasn’t missed anything.  Mrs Dementia is struggling to make sense of her world and stared at me in disbelief – I don’t think she knew who I was.

My efforts to persuade Mrs Dementia that it is time for bed fail.   She is very unpleasant and dismissive of any of my suggestion to help.  She decided to spend the night on the sofa: I eventually left her to it and bedded down in the spare room.    As I finish this post I have no idea if I’ll be dealing with Maureen, or Mrs Dementia, when the woman in our lounge eventually rises from the sofa.