Well Jean, you have just had your 67th Birthday. Note, please, I say had rather than celebrated because, at our ages, Birthdays are not really celebrated as they have been in the past. Cards, presents, special meals, drinks, trips out and shows are not really the thing these days. It’s not just age related, of course. Alzheimers does play a big part in it too. You are unable to cope anymore with any celebrations out of the ordinary. Cards are meaningless, special meals have no attraction for you, Baileys are disposed of as you would a cup of tea (straight down in one gulp), trips out are ok but restricted to within a few miles of the house and shows mean mixing with crowds and sitting still and quiet, not something you are really comfortable with. Further difficulties have arisen just lately too which means that I have had to alter my diet. This means that I have to eat different foods to the ones you are used to and, on top of that, your eating habits have changed to the extent where it is now taking anything up to an hour to feed you an ordinary meal. Hot food can only be kept reasonably hot by having easy access to a microwave where the food can be reheated in a manner of seconds. Not complaining, just stating the facts. I’m here to keep you fed , warm and comfortable and will continue doing so until such times as I am unable or you have no further use for me. Not really a problem, it just means that meals have now to be taken separately and uses up more time in what have become very busy days. I have tried to introduce you to my dietary requirements but the change in routine has upset your digestive system with unpleasant consequences, turning you from a regular user of the bathroom to a Martini user (Any time, Any place, Any where). I now take my meals alone, something I have not done since we were married in 1967 and I do miss having you round the kitchen table whilst I consume whatever concoction I have created. After a few weeks of trying to alter your diet to mine, I gave up but became very lazy and, despite the warnings of the health experts, decided to try you on a more conventional diet by using ready meals rather than home cooked ones. Yes, I know they contain more sugar, salt, monosodium glutamates and other chemicals than a Weapons Research Establishment in Arabia but maybe once or twice a week it would be ok. The other thing I considered was the fact that the portions are so small that it would be unlikely to cause any immediate or lasting damage plus the fact that you are now able to eat dryer meats like chicken, turkey and ham but seem to have difficulty in swallowing them, so perhaps smaller, wetter portions might help with consuming the food. So I started you off gently with that good old standby Shepherds Pie, made from real Shepherds. That went down alright so move onto Cottage Pie, not a sign of a Cottage in it anywhere, and that was eaten without problems. So far, so good but soon ran out of English type recipes. Yes, I know there are all day breakfasts, fish and chips, pies of all descriptions and salads smothered in mayonnaise but the Supermarket shelves hold more Italian foods than anything else and they seem to throw themselves into the trolley under their own steam, rather like the mad Lemmings in northern Europe throw themselves into the sea. She tried Carbonara, which I thought was an Italian racing car driver. A bit claggy that one and was not appreciated. Apart from that, the bacon in it was virtually non existant and tasteless. Yesterday it was the turn of Spaghetti Meatballs. No idea why they are called Meatballs as they were flat, coin shaped pieces of something and not round at all. The Spaghetti was managed by me, twisting round a fork with the aid of a dessert spoon held at the end of the prongs to stop the wound spaghetti unravelling and falling back onto the plate. Doesn’t matter how hard you try though to make a nice round parcel on the fork, there is always a dangly bit hanging down and that bit has all the sauce on the end or dribbling off the end onto your chin. Jean managed it very well on the whole. A quick wipe over with a damp cloth and everything finished or so I thought. Bath night last night revealed wiggly bits in the bath. Initially I was quite shocked as, due to the recent upset of her digestive system, I thought I had been mistaken as to its cause and it was actually some sort of living organism which was being evicted. OO there’s some more longer bits. Gently lifted and examined the cleavage area and there was another Spaghetti Bolognese lodged in there, complete with sauce. With the fashion these days dictating that low cut T shirts, dresses and blouses are the clothes to be seen in, I just wonder what sorts of things have been found down there?