Haylett

Yesterday donned goggles and wetsuit to give Mum a shower for the first time in over a year.

Until now, she's had to put up with wash-downs sitting on the loo. Despite my concern as to what punishment would be meted out on this occasion, Mum wasn't too distressed after all. The hair wash got a "you are a Dirty Bertie!". "Actually Mum, I am a very Clean and Wet Bertie that stands before you in sodden bicycle pants" but no matter. We made it through to the sparkle puff talc and the blingy-bling for which I have acquired a small filing cabinet to catalogue Mum's vast and increasing collection of tinsel-town sparklers.

Quite how Mum became such a Diamond Diva is one of life's little mysteries.

In the evening, a call from SIL. My nephews are selfish. They never call. Who will look after her in her old age?. The last time Mum was invited to stay at my brother's house is so long ago, it has faded from memory. Even when she stayed for her short week or two, they would go out and leave her. I know, because I fielded the distressed calls until they came home. My brother and SIL who drove two hours to remove Mum's few pieces of jewellery for 'safe-keeping' when she was admitted to hospital - yet who couldn't find time to visit. Bitter? You bet. Or somewhere between bitter and wanting to laugh at the pettiness of it all - including me. Still, I find it hard to know what to say.

Got home to find MIL sitting in our kitchen wrapped up in the dog towel with a woolly scarf around her head. The dog looks at me and grins. "Told her it wasn't a good look". Cat looks sideways. Beast is rarely right, but on this occasion she thinks he might have a point.

After a hot chocolate and a biscuit, I lead MIL back to bed. Her apartment is hotter than the Black Hole of Calcutta. A loin-cloth would be over-dressed. But MIL's thermostat is broken and there is nothing we can do about it. Dementia always has its little twists and turns. It can transport you to the unexplored or it can lead you down dark alleyways and dead-ends.