Yesterday we did something that was obviously for the last time. The annual invitation to lunchtime drinks at my brother's, followed by snack for family and closer friends. Husband now gets anxiety trots when away from home, so gave him pill supplied by dr to prevent this. Drive, uneventfully, the 60 or so miles. Husband has always been a good talker to strangers, but this time quite obviously became bored about half way through, and started to just hang about by my side, looking at watch. He consumed a bowl of soup, but when offered bread, cheese and pate said he did not want any, thus worrying our hostess, and probably the other 6 or 8 people present. When we got home, I asked if he had been feeling unwell - answer was he didn't have any appetite. At supper time, he happily consumed large plate of food. Once, I would have said 'couldn't you at least have taken a little food and played about with it, rather than sitting there with nothing'. Now no point. Sister in law rang later that evening, worried, but of course he came into the room so I could not talk, even though the telephone is not in the sitting room. I felt terribly sad. Said I was going to bed to read - really wanting to be alone - at 8.30 p.m. He says he is going to go to bed too. "It's only 8.30" I protested, "you don't have to go to bed just because I do." He has a separate bedroom now, so it didn't really make any difference, but seemed so indicative of everything. I spent much of the night awake, feeling that my life is just non existent now. At the party, I had had some wide ranging and interesting conversations, covering book binding, a Frenchman who performed music by use of an orifice not normally connected with the performing arts, the first golf course in France and why it was where it was, and much more. At home, conversation is limited to our cats, the cold, and whether the dustmen do or do not come today. I can't bloody stand it.