Ironic thoughts for a Thursday

So I picked dad up earlier this evening for dinner. When I told him is was just the 2 of us I asked him if he wanted to go to the pub instead. Win win I think as it results in no cooking or clearing up for me, plus I won’t lie when I say that a pub atmosphere will be a welcome distraction dur to the fact that conversations are fairly one sided and I can get that from the dogs….Plus as I have no one else to worry about watching his ever declining manners I thought why not!

One glass of wine down chez moi and he agreed. He used to love eating out and it’s hard for him as he can’t read the menu and albeit that he may think about a type of food that he wants when it arrives he then can’t work out how to cut it let alone eat the bloody thing to I tend to say things like ‘oh dad (in Portuguese obviously!) they have steak and kidney pie and you like that…’ and that’s how eating out works. Needless to say I would not choose the pie as it be a complicated eating affair. Think basic. Chicken wings are a huge winner but he’s had them twice this week!

So scampi and chips it is with mushy peas aka finger food… ish?!

Food arrives and yes it’s mainly a hand affair but who gives a shit because he’s eating. Eating as you know is akin to breathing in my world.

He did seem to eat a large amount of tartare sauce with his fork but again who cares right? Now if you follow my blogs you will know that dad has history/baggage and plenty of it when it comes to the lady kind! A serial womaniser and bigamist, yes a bigamist, a regular attendee of the ladies of the night. Some leopard really don’t change their spots and true to form dad took to attempting to endear himself to the table next to us with 2 ladies on who had clearly been at the vino for a few hours. ‘Bonne appetite’ he announced to the poor ladies… all I could do was smile as he attempted to talk to me in English about the dire situation in Venezuela. I know I know at least it’s current and relevant. Just remember the news is on 24/7 at his so sling enough shit and some will stick right?!

Post dinner I swung past another local Portuguese haunt (yes in good old rural Andover Hampshire) where we he enjoyed his espresso and a bit of banter. The banter was loud and in full swing and post dinner wine and beer he seemed to enjoy it this evening. I always forget how loud and noisy we Portuguese are. The volume simply goes up several notches and no one seems to care about taking over one another. I love the noise. I think dad does too. Not as much as he did before but unless he’s having a bad day he like me finds silence painful. It runs in the blood as my brother is the same!

But I digress; again!

Anyway the point of this blog is irony. Irony because over dinner tonight he bought up the subject of his lady friend. Yes he has one of those even in his current state. She’s 88. I have mentioned her before in my blogs. Now dad doesn’t always remember ages or anything number related. Recently he’s asked me if he’s 70.. close I said. He’s also asked me if he’s 51… I did point out that would be impossible as I am almost 42? Anyway his lady friend akin to a garden gnome, is 88. Again he first told me she was 68. Confusion aside we did play a silly game once asking people to guess her age from a picture I took. Before the bully police call up I can state that clearly she was not present to witness such an event but it was to show how blind dad is really becoming. Yes he’s not losing his eye sight per say but dementia affects the peripheral vision in more ways than I can tell you. His concept of what he is looking at or hearing for hat matter is very very warped.

Anyway he told me that he feels a sorry for her. When I quizzed him as to why he told me that she’s very forgetful, says the man with dementia?! Quite what she forgets I have no idea but as I arrived home after dropping dad back he called me. Again he could not explain so passed his phone to said lady friend.

‘Dad says he has picked up your phone’ oh I said. Why do you think that?

‘Because it doesn’t look like his phone’. So how are you calling me then? ‘Erm… how are we speaking to you’ she said.

I pointed out that dad had called my phone from his phone … you can hear the confusion a mile away. Needless to say he did turn up with 2 out of his 3 phones this evening so maybe he simply doesn’t recognise this other phone?! He is beyond obsessed with phones at present!

Who knows.. but one good thing is that neither of them will remember tomorrow. Every cloud..

Here is dementia dad in the pub tonight…. with both hands occupied! Action shot if you don’t mind.. pint for spotting the tartare sauce!

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