Author: samantha

The Dementia Diaries – Chapter Sixteen Care Assessment

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Since my last Dementia Diaries post in March things have worsened considerably. My aunt had her 90th birthday party in a village hall some twenty miles away, and for the first time, I realised that Mum was too far into her Alzheimers to attend. My parents have never driven and my husband and I always take them along to any family occasion, they have never once been left out of anything. It was my aunt who suggested that it wouldn’t be a good idea to bring mum “she’ll want to go home as soon as you arrive” she said. That was very true but it was also the fact of Mum’s urinary incontinence. If the M25 is at a standstill we would be in the car for an hour both ways and the village hall toilets wouldn’t be a vey private place for dealing with any accidents. My aunt had a wonderful time, she was chatting to her one hundred and eighty guests and got up to dance. Mum, on the other hand, can barely get out of her armchair. It really does seem like a lottery as to what sort of old age, if any, you get to experience. My parents have really lived a very healthy life but, for Mum, it doesn’t seem to have paid off. I suppose living to eighty nine is a privilege in itself.

Mum has started to become more and more resentful of my visits and her constantly telling me to “go home” has now changed into “bugger off”, something she would never have said pre-Alzheimers. Dad and I have been trying to persuade her to let me help her bath or shower but she refuses. The last time we gingerly raised the topic it resulted in an hour of nonsensical arguing and Mum pretending to cry. It is as if we are somehow abusing her rather than trying to help. It makes me feel terrible to see her so confused and distressed. Dad can’t help her, if Mum slips she will take him down with her, they are both now so frail. Dad wants to arrange for their mobile hairdresser to visit along with the podiatrist and I said we can’t expect these people to tend to Mum when she is not clean. We are both worried about her developing sores or an infection. It is so difficult because what do you do when someone point blank refuses to bath or shower?

I filled in a request for a Care Assessment on the Kent Council website and it took about six weeks for the visit to happen. A lady called Sarah arrived at my parents house. It wasn’t quite what I had expected. Dad and I explained the issues, although it is very obvious from the moment you walk in the front door. Sarah said that my parents are not entitled to any free care (my dad does now receive enhanced attendance allowance which a local charity helped him apply for) but that the council can recommend some care agencies. Sarah and I went upstairs and she said that some of the carers will do cleaning as well, she commented on the strong smell of urine in the bedroom. Dad opens the windows and Mum closes them. I vacuum my parents house, clean the kitchen floor and put the laundry mountain away twice every week but I hadn’t cleaned their bathroom as I haven’t been allowed. To be honest I was a little embarrassed when I saw how grubby it was. Two days later I was back over there with a bottle of Cif and some bleach. Asking the carer to clean seems quite an expensive way of doing things as the carers charge about £15 more per hour than a regular cleaner. Also, Dad has turned into a bit of a hoarder and I am not sure how much cleaning someone could actually do around the boxes of stuff everywhere.

Throughout the entire conversation Mum kept calling out “what’s happening?” and “what are you talking about?” so we kept explaining to make sure she felt we were speaking to her rather than about her. Sarah asked Mum if she would consent to someone helping her shower and Mum said yes. This is because she had no idea what Sarah was saying. Sarah then said that it would all be alright as Mum has agreed. In reality I know that, when the carer arrives, mum will go into full refusal mode. Mum then started telling Sarah to “bugger off” and “sod off”. Sarah just laughed, she is obviously used to this sort of behaviour. Before leaving Sarah gave us a directory of carers but many of them are out of our area. We have booked a visit in tomorrow simply to discuss Mum’s needs. Dad got the name of the care agency from Age Concern.

When I was upstairs with Sarah she said “your mum is at the end now”. I must have looked quite shocked at her bluntness because she then said “of her Alzheimers”. The clarification, didn’t really make any difference, it all amounts to the same thing. Poor mum, such an energetic, capable and kind person reduced to this. You would not wish Alzheimers disease on your worst enemy.

Thank you for reading,

Samantha

Cover Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash

A Day Out in London – Afternoon Tea at The Langham

On By samanthaIn GOING OUTLeave a comment

My friend kindly invited me and another mutual, friend out to afternoon tea at The Langham which is a hotel located in Portland Place, a two minute walk from Oxford Circus station. I have only had afternoon tea at a swanky hotel once before, The Savoy about eight years ago, and what I remember was that my sister-in-law politely requested that some of the cakes be put into a box so that she could take them home for her family as she didn’t want to eat any then and there and the waiter refused. So she paid about £125 for a cup of Darjeeling. Afternoon tea at The Langham is slightly less expensive but the bill still came to a hefty £101 per person. Of course you are paying for the location and experience as much as for the tea and sandwiches.

The Langham is a very impressive hotel which opened in 1865. Tea is served in their Palm Court area. It is a stunningly elegant dining room. Dress code is smart casual but there were plenty of people wearing trainers, I suppose people tag on a 3pm tea experience to a morning of site seeing and no one wants to be doing that in formal shoes. I didn’t spot any jeans though. As part of my decluttering project I have decided to try and wear clothes I already own rather than buy anything new and wore some ivory tailored trousers from Mango, a black boucle jacket from H&M and a silk top that I have had forever but only worn once before, from Boden. On my feet I wore some well worn-in ballet flats because I’ve had many a special occasion ruined by .uncomfortable shoes. I was tempted to slip my trainers into a tote bag for the journey home.

My outing didn’t get off to the smoothest start as I could not park anywhere near my local train station. Most of the spots are now restricted to two hours which is ridiculous because who goes in to London and comes back again in that time? After driving around the multi-story car park twice and not finding a single space I rang my friend and manage to catch her before she set out on her own fruitless search for parking. I drove to her house and we rang for a taxi and manage to catch our train.

Once arriving at Oxford Circus via the Bakerloo Line we simply crossed the road and walked a few yards and we were there. I wish I had some pictures but when I sat down in the dining room I realised I couldn’t find my phone. After a second’s panic thinking I’d been robbed or had dropped it in central London I decided that I had probably just left it in my car and, sure enough, that’s exactly what had happened. I managed not to sit there the entire time worrying about it but when we caught the slowest train ever home I did begin to feel a bit jittery.

The Palm Court is stunning. If I go to anything like this again I will be sure not to sit facing the wall because it was impossible to people watch, my favourite thing, from where I was sitting. The walls are decorated with gold coloured ornaments and the chandeliers are beautiful. A pianist played songs from Les Miserable, Wicked and some Billy Joel. It really is the picture of elegance.

The staff at The Langham were far less snooty than at The Savoy. They gave us a warm welcome and explained the menu. I chose Phoenix Honey Orchid tea which was, quite frankly, disgusting. I stuck to water after that. We were brought a platter of finger sandwiches, egg, cream cheese, prawn and Coronation chicken, they were exceptionally delicious. We ate all of them and the lovely, friendly waitress bright some more. Next were the most beautiful small pastries, three for each of us in lemon, coffee and strawberry flavours. The three of us were all sitting there feeling fit to burst when the waitress brought over a little crème brulee creation with a candle in it for my friend. Just as we thought the bill would be arriving we were served warm miniature scones with jam and clotted cream and a gorgeous fruit cake which we had boxed up for my friend’s family. The waitress bought the boxed cake over in a branded gift bag and said she’d popped some extra scones in there too, how lovely. The food was amazing and there was far more of it than I had expected. We waddled back to the Tube. If you are thinking of doing a posh afternoon tea in London then The Langham is the place to go.

For my friend’s birthday gift we bought her a gift set from The White Company in Sea Salt scent. She took that home along with the scones and fruit cake and I think she really had a lovely afternoon, I know I did.

Thank you for reading

Samantha

A Day Out in London – Siena: The Rise of Painting, 1300 ‒1350 at The National Gallery & Marylebone Village

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The Siena exhibition at The National Gallery is breath-taking. If you would like to view some of Europe’s earliest artwork, beautifully displayed, then this is the exhibition for you. It features the work of fourteenth century Italian artists, Duccio, Simone Martini and the brothers Pietro and Ambrogio Lorenzetti . When they completed their masterpieces seven hundred years ago did these artists ever imagine that people would still be admiring them so far into the future? The work is all of a religious theme, there are many images of the Virgin Mary with Jesus as a baby and of course countless crucifixion scenes.

There are over one hundred exhibits including fragments of intricately woven silk, rugs, plaster panels, ivory statuettes, altarpieces. One scene painted by Ducci shows Mary recovering from labour. In many of the artworks she looks sorrowful, already aware of the fate of her baby son. The accompanying narrative displayed next to each exhibit was very informative, I did not know that Mary’s parents were called Anne and Joachim

Many works by Pietro Lorenzetti and his brother Ambrogio are featured. There is diptch that displays Christ’s brith on one side and his crucifixion on the other. There is an enormous crucifix with a sinister skull lying at the bottom. So many exquisite things to see. I am just glad I was not responsible for transporting so may fragile objects.

After the gallery we caught a bus to Marylebone Village and had a light lunch in the French restaurant Aubaine. The bus driver did not speak a word of English and kept playing the wrong announcements so it was rather comical. Marylebone Village consists of coffee shops, restaurants and clothing boutiques such as Sandro, Sezane, Me & Em, and Rizo. Not the very high end designers but you still need a few hundred pounds to buy a dress in most of the stores. We spent some time looking at pretty things in Sezane but neither my friend or I bought anything. Some of the shops had more staff than customers and I wonder how they all keep going. There is a lovely relaxed atmosphere in the village and I will definitely go back and explore a little bit more soon

Thank you for reading

Samantha

A Day Out in London – The Frameless Exhibition and Selfridges

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I enjoy a day out in London every couple of months and keep an eye out for interesting new things to see and do. A friend recommended Frameless, an immersive art experience near Marylebone. Perfectly located for a look around Selfridges afterwards. I chose flexible tickets which meant we could arrive at any time of our choosing on a particular day. They cost £37. This was only slightly more expensive than the set time tickets and meant that train delays wouldn’t cause any unnecessary stress. We caught a train just after 9.30am in order to enjoy a whole day in London. When we arrived at Marble Arch station there were whiteboards displaying warnings to commuters not to take their phone out outside the station and announcements blaring through the tannoy saying there had been numerous phone robberies outside the tube that week. What a pity that every city now seems to be full of thieves.

Because we were now paranoid about looking at Google maps on our phones we bumbled around for ten minutes trying to find the location but, in fact, it is a one minute walk from the tube. The exhibition itself is fabulous! Frameless is made up of four huge galleries where forty two works of art are animated and brought to life. There is another gallery near the gift shop exhibiting the work of somebody the staff referred to as an intern but really they are an artist in residence. The friendly lady in the gift shop told me their best selling item are realistic soft toy pigeons, nothing to do with the artwork which made me laugh.

Each gallery is very different. There are seating areas within each one and a lovely café should you wish to break your visit up. Information boards tell visitors what they can expect to find in each room and you can see the order in which the art is screened. The scale of the art works is incredibly impressive and they are projected onto the walls, floor and ceiling. In the first gallery this creates a sensation of moving even when you know you are standing still and made me feel a bit dizzy for a moment. The second gallery we visited “Colour in Motion” displayed works by Monet and Vincent Van Gough and the paintings are formed by swirling brush strokes that gradually come together to make the finished image. There were tiny children in the gallery who were having a whale of a time chasing the brush strokes and even a baby in a sling cooing in wonder. In the “Beyond Reality” gallery The Cyclops by Odilon Redon comes to life and peeks out behind a mountain The Scream by Edvard Munch turns into a nightmarish black hole of a mouth. At this exhibition you can see singers under a lamppost in London, Volcanoes in Pompeii, ships being tossed about on crashing waves, Venetian scenes and all sorts of strange creatures stomping around. The final gallery “The Art of Abstraction” shows work by artists such as Kandinsky and Klint and is perhaps slightly less suitable for young children as it is very dark the art here is displayed in a maze like display of mesh screens. Each gallery has wonderful atmospheric music playing from Spanish guitar to jazz. It really is a true immersive experience. I would recommend Frameless to anybody who is looking for something a little bit different to do.

After lunch we ventured into Selfridges and had a very mediocre lunch in their ground floor café. I used to work near Bond Street and would often enjoy a mooch around this beautiful department store during my lunch break. I would buy pretty stationary or a scarf. It is very different now, just made up of luxury concessions. If you want to purchase Chanel, Hermes, Louis Vuitton etc. you will be in the right place. If you just want a little treat then there is the beauty hall where you can pick up a fancy lip gloss or bottle of fragrance. We looked around one of the Chanel concessions and oohed a little bit at all the beautiful, wildly expensive things. Pale blue seemed to be the colour of the season and everything was trimmed with crystals or pearls. I tried a Bayswater Satchel on in the Mulberry concession but they didn’t have it in the colour I liked and I had just spent the equivalent amount of money on a new computer for work so, sadly, it wasn’t really day for purchasing expensive new leather goods.

On Oxford Street there were lots of rather aggressive elderly women beggars from overseas, something I hadn’t encountered before anywhere but Italy. I wonder where they all go at the end of the day. The sight of so many homeless people lining the pavements is very sad and I suppose fewer passer bys give them money now as we are largely a cashless society.

We popped into a couple of shops on Oxford Street, Zara and Uniqlo, but this was a Saturday and the crowds were ridiculous. I know some people find beautiful things in Zara but I don’t find the quality to be very good. Uniqlo is brilliant for basics like T shirts and my son likes their crew neck jumpers. I was tempted by one of their popular sling bags but, after seeing the Chanel delights, they didn’t hold much quite so much appeal. After half an hour or so we headed back to the Tube and managed to travel home without being robbed.

Thank you for reading

Samantha

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The Dementia Diaries – Chapter Fifteen No Progress

On By samanthaIn THE DEMENTIA DIARIESLeave a comment

It is March and Mum’s cognitive health has deteriorated noticeably since Christmas. Dad has lost a lot of weight and is limping, he has always had problematic feet, probably because he wore ill-fitting shoes as a child. The podiatrist comes and visits him at home, it is an expensive service, almost one hundred pounds a time. The NHS do not appear to offer home visits for podiatry. Dad doesn’t have any time to himself at all. I keep offering to come and sit with Mum so that he can perhaps go to an art class or simply walk up to the village and have a quiet coffee but he won’t go anywhere without Mum. He still buys her flowers every single week.

Apart from a hospital appointment which I took them to, I don’t think my parents have left the house in three months. Mum was always someone who had to be out doing something every day. Now she just sits in her arm chair calling Dad’s name if he is out of her sight for more than a few seconds. Apparently it is common for dementia sufferers to experience anxiety if their main carer is out of sight. The washing machine is permanently on, Mum now generates more washing than my family of five. She isn’t bathing or washing her hair and it is obvious that she needs assistance with her personal hygiene. I ask on our local Facebook group for recommendations of carers and a couple of people privately message me, one someone who was another mother at my son’s school. She tells me she can hardly believe Mum’s dementia situation is dragging on so long. Her own father died of Alzheimer’s disease some years ago and he had a wonderful carer, she shares the details. I tell Dad I think it is time we insist on having a carer visit at least a couple of times a week. I can see he is reluctant. I reassure him that I have a name of a woman who comes highly recommended. Dad decides to ignore this and simply does a Google search and books a visit from a company I have never heard of. Dad says they must be alright, they have a website! I am slightly irritated by this.

My husband tells me that Tower Hamlets Council coordinate all his mother’s care and that he doesn’t understand why I am not going down that route. They have providers they use and they invoice my mother-in-law monthly. He said that, once my parents are on Social Services radar, they will be obligated to help and that he has been stunned by the amount of assistance and attention that his own mother receives. I decide to apply for a care assessment to see what the council say about providing or arranging some care for my parents. Dad and I fill in the form online and wait to hear. We cancel the visit from the mystery care company.

The assessment is supposedly arranged for 11am on a Monday morning. I feel it is crucial that I attend and book the time off work. Whoever is supposed to be coming doesn’t turn up. It would be most unlike Dad to make a mistake about an appointment but I am not convinced that whoever he was expecting was actually coming about the assessment. After being on hold for half an hour, Dad gets through to the correct department and they tell him that there is nothing in their diary and we won’t be hearing anything about the assessment for some weeks. The person we speaks to thinks it may have been one of the charities that the council liaises with that were due to visit but they aren’t sure. Dad only has the first name of the expected visitor and no direct contact details for them but he is certain they are from one of the council older-people departments. While all of this is going on Mum is becoming more and more agitated. She suddenly blurts out “I don’t want to go into an old people’s home”. I am stunned. Dad and I have never discussed this, even privately but Mum has probably heard the phrase “Social Services” and, even in her confused state, realised that something is afoot. We had explained to her earlier about the purpose of the visit and, as was to be expected, she had denied the need for any help. Dad and I try to reassure Mum that was aren’t making arrangements to put her in a care home but she tells me she doesn’t care about me and that she wants me to go home. I have to get back to work anyway so leave feeling sad, guilty and annoyed at a wasted morning.

So, we are no further on. My husband says that his mum’s health has improved no end since she has had her carers. They come in four times a day, every day. Meanwhile, Dad and I struggle on with no help which is just how my parents seem to want things.

Thank you for reading,

Samantha

Cover Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash

The Dementia Diaries – Chapter Fourteen Things Seem Hopeless

On By samanthaIn THE DEMENTIA DIARIESLeave a comment

It’s a beautiful sunny Sunday in early March and I really should be in the garden doing some tidying up but my morning visit to my parents has drained me of energy . Mum is becoming more and more obstinate, she says no to anything that could help her. She does not have the capacity to reason anymore so there is no discussion, it’s her way or the highway. If Dad or I try to insist then there will be a tantrum. Even at eighty-nine, Mum can be quite intimidating. It has got to the point where I walk up their garden path with a sense of trepidation and anxiety.

This morning it was apparent that Mum was in desperate need of a hairwash. I always do it over the kitchen sink, it takes ten minutes, if that. Mum’s forehead, and behind her ears are covered in orange, waxy scales. Mum says no way is she having her hair washed and that I should mind my own business and go home. Dad tries to reason with her but she refuses to move out of the chair. Eventually I manage to persuade her over to the sink and very gently clean her scalp and face but afterwards she sits pretending to cry which makes me feel terrible. She pretends to cry on every visit now, it’s an unwelcome new development. She tells my lovely dad is is a horrible husband and that I should go home and not come back. In my last Dementia Diaries post I was optimistic about Dad accepting some professional help but here we are, still muddling along by ourselves. I have filled out a Social Services form online requesting an assessment but have heard nothing back.

The Occupational Therapist has delivered a shiny new walking frame to my parents’ house. It must have cost hundreds of pounds. It has brakes and a little shopping basket attached. It can also be used as a seat. Mum just spends her days sitting in the armchair now but, in the past, has always enjoyed getting out. She should be able to manage a very short walk and it will do her good to get the blood circulating, particularly in her perpetually swollen legs. I suggest that we go out for a little walk around their pretty cul-de-sac. Again I am met with refusal “I am not using that” she says. End of conversation. I try to press the matter but she pretends to go to sleep. I see her peering out of one eye to see if I’m still there, if it weren’t so infuriating it would almost be sit-com worthy. So it will be another day where my Dad won’t see anyone. The walking frame is now in their utility room, tea towels draped over it, what a waste of resources.

This week I was upset to read about the tragic deaths of actor Gene Hackman and his wife, Betsy Arakawa. Betsy, aged sixty five, was carer to Hackman who was ninety five and had advanced Alzheimer’s disease. Betsy had died from an infection associated with rodents and Hackman died of natural causes a week later. As is always the case now, the internet was immediately awash with conspiracy theories about the “mysterious” deaths. There was actually nothing mysterious as all, just desperately sad. It would seem that Hackman possibly did not comprehend that his wife was dead and was alone in their house for a week afterwards until he passed away himself. Even if he had understood he probably did not have the cognitive ability to summon help. I am surprised this scenario doesn’t play out more often, or perhaps it does but we only hear about it when it affects famous people. If my dad died my mum wouldn’t be able to use the phone and she would probably forget what had happened within a couple of minutes. She would not be able to prepare even the simplest meal for herself. I check in with my parents every day and, if they don’t answer the phone, I drive to their house. Fortunately they live very close to me. My dad has an emergency alert pendant, he has had one heart attack. God forbid he has another then I hope he could press the button and get help. My mum certainly couldn’t dial 999 now.

There was a lot of judgement about Gene Hackman and Betsy Arakawa’s deaths. Where were their three adult children, why didn’t they have a housekeeper, caregivers etc. The fact is some people become very reclusive when they grow older and refuse to accept any help from outsiders, even family. They don’t want to admit the full extent of what is going on, they tell themselves they can cope. In the Hackman family’s case, they probably didn’t expect a sixty five year old woman to suddenly pass away. Not every family is close but somebody needs to take responsibility for checking in every day.

So, an unsuccessful and upsetting visit to my parents house. I am hoping that social services will respond to my request for an assessment and that they will insist on someone coming in regularly to wash Mum. Someone who is used to dealing with refusal , tears and tantrums. On my walk home I bump into their lovely, sprightly neighbour whose husband went into a care home with Alzheimer’s a year or so ago. He is very happy there apparently and his ninety year old wife looks so much better for having passed the burden onto the professionals. She told me she wasn’t getting more than three hours sleep a night before and that she had lost two stone which she is now slowly regaining. I hope my dad will consider care for my mum if she gets any worse because we can’t struggle on like this.

Thank you for reading,

Samantha

Cover Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash

Film Review – Bridget Jones – Mad About The Boy

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This review does contain some spoilers. Comedies aren’t really my favourite genre but it’s been a long winter and who doesn’t need a little cheering up at this time of year? I have seen the other films in the Bridget Jones franchise so it seemed a pity not to see how Bridget’s story ends in Mad About the Boy – directed by Michael Morris . It has been nine years since Bridget Jones had her baby and a catch-up is long overdue. My friend booked us tickets to go and see it at The Stag Theatre and Cinema in Sevenoaks. I have never seen the cinema so full, there was not an empty seat in the house and almost all of the film goers were women.

The film opens and we immediately learn that Bridget’s life hasn’t been all sunshine and roses, Mark, her husband was killed on a humanitarian mission to Sudan four years earler. She finds herself alone, in her Hampstead house, with her two young children, Billy and Mabel. The house itself would probably cost about five million pounds, I know because I looked on the website of the posh estate agent that I used to work for. If you don’t fancy a trip to London after watching the film I will be very surprised, there are no pickpockets or phone snatchers to be seen, just the most picturesque locations. Bridget goes on a date in Borough Market, I was there recently and it was horribly crowded but it’s conveniently empty for our heroine. Bridget is, of course, played by Rene Zellweger. Mark Darcy does still make appearances throughout if you are concerned about the lack of Colin Firth. I saw an interview where Hugh Grant said that there really wasn’t any logical place for his character, Bridget’s former love interest Daniel Cleaver, in this film but the writers found a way to include him when Bridget rushes to his side after he has a health scare. Grant really is a scene stealer and the film wouldn’t have been the same without him.

Bridget has been on her own for four years and her friends create an embarrassing Tinder profile for her. She is finally going back out into the world. Of course Hollywood can’t let people be single, even if they seem perfectly happy that way. Any single person must surely be feeling unfulfilled and therefore coaxed back into the dating world. Bridget returns to her previous job as a TV producer and hires an annoyingly perfect, but actually lovely nanny, Chloe played by Nico Parker. The film features a whole host of famous actors, Isla Fisher (who looks just like Moaning Myrtle in Harry Potter), Hugh Grant, Sally Phillips and Emma Thomson to name a few.

Bridget takes Mabel and Billy to Hampstead Heath where there’s an unfortunate tree-climbing incident. Although not really so unfortunate as she find two handsome men offering to help, Roxter, played by Leo Woodall and Mr Wallaker, the new science teacher at the children’s’ prep school, played by Chiwetel Ejiofor. Roxter is just twenty nine and Bridget is supposed to be around fifty. He thinks she is thirty five and she says yes, lets go with that. They have a fun romance but the age difference looms large. Mr Wallaker seems to appear, as if by magic, at the most embarrassing moments but he is clearly a caring soul. After pretending to be outdoorsy, Bridget accompanies him on the school expedition to the Lake District, another win for the English Tourist Board.

The school scenes did bring back some memories, the one mum who has to get a dig in about how you’re not quite as perfect as she is. The superior mother in this film has twins Atticus and Eros. She is organising hampers for the school raffle and Bridget fishes a half eaten pot of hummus out of her Mulberry bag as her contribution, we’ve all been there! There is a very touching scene at the end when Billy is singing and it really brought home the fact that I won’t have any more school concerts to attend for my own children.

Bridget’s wardrobe is pretty typical of private school mums. She has a Mulberry Bayswater bag which I am sure featured in another one of the films, cashmere cardigans, ankle boots, mini -but-not-too-mini skirts and dungarees. Personally I don’t think anyone over the age of five should be wearing dungarees unless they’re a painter and decorator. She also has a pair of straight Levi jeans which she wears for her visit to Hampstead Heath. For her dates she has pretty tea dresses, a denim jacket and an Anna Hindmarch woven bag. You could pretty much replicate her entire wardrobe with a quick order from White Stuff and Boden. Crew Clothing have this pretty teal cord mini-skirt which is a near match for Bridget’s. One thing Bridget doesn’t appear to be acquainted with is a hairbrush for some reason and she looks fairly dishevelled most of the time.

I doubt author Helen Fielding realised what a success her scatter-brained creation would be when she wrote her column in The Independent in 1995. The first book was published in 1996. Bridget Jones – Mad About the Boy is great fun, beautifully shot and very moving. Not so many laughs as the earlier films and Bridget isn’t quite so hapless which is probably just as well seeing as she is in charge of two small children. One girl sitting behind us left the cinema sobbing – you have been warned!

Thank you for reading,

Samantha

Cover Photo by Myke Simon on Unsplash

Film Review – Babygirl

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This review does contain some spoilers. I went to see Babygirl at The Stag Theatre and Cinema in Sevenoaks. My daughter had already seen it and said “Mum, I can’t imagine it will be your cup of tea at all”. I went with a friend whose daughter said the film is porn, “it’s not porn” I said, “as if Nicole Kidman would appear in porn”. Well my friend’s daughter was right, it really is soft porn. The film, directed by Halina Reijn, stars Nicole Kidman as Romy, a fifty something CEO of a robotics company. Romy is married to Jacob, played by Antonio Banderas, they have two daughters. Nora, who is still a little girl and Isabel who is a teenager and in a lesbian relationship. Isabel, played by Esther McGregor, was my favourite character in the film, she was insightful and compassionate. They all live in a fabulous apartment but also have a mansion in the country for weekends and holidays.

The film opens with a filmed upside-down sex scene between Romy and Jacob. As soon as they have finished Romy scurries away from the marital bed, furtively opens her laptop computer and writhes on the carpet whilst masturbating to porn. It transpires that she has been faking it with Jacob for their entire marriage. That pretty much sets the tone of the film.

We learn that Romy is super-stressed with an upcoming deal at work. She rushes off to work leaving Jacob, a theatre director, in charge of the children’s schedules On the way to the office she encounters a dog attacking a fellow pedestrian. Terrified she retreats but the dog lunges towards her. Suddenly, a young man appears and instantly calms the dog. Romy continues into the office where her PA asks if she would like to meet this year’s crop of interns. The interns are ushered into Romy’s office and, surprise, surprise, one of them is the young man, Samuel, played by Harris Dickinson. He immediately asks an insolent question about the ethics of the business and the PA brings the introductions to a hasty close. It is clear that Samuel is confident and very bold. There is a mentoring scheme in place for the interns and Samuel informs Romy that he has chosen her for his mentor. Unaware that she was even on the list she tries to make excuses but a ten minute meeting is scheduled and this is when things begin to get… heated.

Samuel is thirty years younger than Romy but oozes self-assurance. She may be the boss at work but definitely not in the bedroom. He makes it clear that she must do what he tells her. This is where things get a little silly . Romy finds herself on all fours lapping at a saucer of milk. She is sent to stand in the corner like a naughty child. Romy attends a rave dressed in an amber silk pussy-bow blouse and immediately young girls start pawing at her, the blouse comes off. She finds Samuel in the heaving crowd with no trouble and does not seem in the least bit perturbed about being the oldest person in the room by three decades. In real life people would have been wondering whose mum had turned up to take them home.

Although the relationship is entirely consensual there is, of course, a power imbalance and if Romy thinks she can just walk away from the relationship when she chooses she is sorely mistaken. Everyone at her company seems to be capable of blackmail and she is terrified of losing her position and her family. She immerses herself in her affair but it is safe to say that there isn’t a happy ending for Samuel and Romy. However, she finally finds herself able to open up to Jacob about her desires. Disgusted and embarrassed, he tells her to get out of their home. She simply goes to their other spectacular home, the outside of which is all lit up by fairly lights as if it had been expecting her.

Romy has the same uptight air that Kidman’s characters always seem to have. She reminds me somewhat of Julie Andrews playing Mary Poppins, I think it is her toes turned out walk. She struts through the city streets in a wardrobe that could have been borrowed from any of the films/tv productions I have seen her in recently. Kidman is of course still exceptionally beautiful but in one scene Samuel describes Romy as not being girlfriend material because she looks like a mother. Of course men have relationships with women decades younger than them all the time and nobody really bats an eyelid except to predictably suggest it is transactional on the woman’s part.

There were only six of us in the cinema and most people let at an embarrassed laugh at one point or other. I was slightly surprised that Kidman, a huge star, signed up for something so explicit. Babygirl is provocative, raunchy and fairly entertaining but my daughter was right, it wasn’t really my cup of tea.

Thank you for reading,

Samantha

Cover Photo by Myke Simon on Unsplash

My Daughter’s 21st Birthday – We visit The London Dungeon

On By samanthaIn GOING OUTLeave a comment

My daughter had been debating what to do for her 21st birthday. We had already been to see the Mean Girls Musical a couple of weeks beforehand. She had been planning on going back to university but many of her friends were on work placement or studying for their exams. In the end she decided to stay at home and celebrate with her friends after their exams were finished. She still didn’t seem very enthusiastic about doing anything in particular, we debated going to Madame Tussauds or The Natural History Museum but on the end decided on The London Dungeon. I booked tickets on the day which were £35 each. We had been a couple of times before, about a decade ago so we knew what to expect.

We travelled to Waterloo East and then it is a five minute walk to the dungeon which overlooks the river, you can’t really miss it. The nearest Tube is Waterloo. There weren’t many visitors to The Dungeon at 11am on a Wednesday morning, there seemed to be more staff than guests but we were greeted enthusiastically by staff wearing various medieval costumes, a silent monk was particularly creepy. There are plenty of photo opportunities in the entrance but after that point you have to turn your phone off. The staff do corner you to take some “official” photos, pictures of you in the stocks or about to have your head lopped off with an axe and you can view and purchase these photos before leaving. The Dungeons are manned by actors, all very young, who take visitors on a tour of some of the horrors of London. It had changed somewhat since my last visit and I was disappointed to see the boat ride had been removed, that was my favourite part. A room dedicated to the witch trials had been added and this was probably the most frightening spectacle. I had previously taken my children and some friends for their tenth birthdays but I think the witch performance would be too scary for many ten year olds.

The first character we met was a court jester who dramatically told us a little bit about what to expect and then we were taken into a pitch back lift called The Descent and the tour began. We found ourselves in a courtroom where a batty judge sat in session. One of the other visitors was placed in the dock and some silly charges ready out, it was all very funny. A long list of crimes punishable by death in 1622 was displayed on the wall, pickpocketing and animal theft included. We are then led to a medieval torture chamber, again a guest or two are singled out to participate but it is all very light-hearted.

The actress playing Mrs Lovett in the Sweeney Todd section was absolutely superb and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself. She stood behind a counter ladened with dubious looking meat pies. Guests are then escorted into a room full of barbers chairs and asked to sit down. It is enough to make your scalp crawl. There is a strong comedic element to some of the exhibits, particularly the courtroom and the pie shop. Others are strictly horror inducing such as the section on Jack the Ripper and the Witches. Be prepared to find yourself in pitch black rooms at various points during the tour, not knowing who or what is going to appear right in front of you. There are also a lot of strobe lighting effects.

The London Dungeons are genuinley quite educational in places, especially the plague section and guests stop here, sit down and are treated to an autopsy of a plague victim. Prepare to be splattered by the totally incompetent physician!

There is a confusing mirror maze and then the guests find themselves in a Whitechapel set where we meet a lady of the night, terrified that she will be The Ripper’s next victim, we then going into a pub for another genuinely terrifying spectacle. Now I come to think about it, I do remember many squeals in this part when I visited a decade ago with a gaggle of ten year old girls. Maybe not the obvious choice of venue but they did all have a fantastic time.

After making the rounds of all the exhibits the dungeons predictably ends in a small gift shop where you can buy the usual stuff, key rings, pencils and T shirts etc. There is also a bar before the exit where you can rest before heading back out into 2025.

I think The London Dungeon is brilliant fun and a great way to spend a couple of hours in London. It’s probably suitable for most children of twelve and older. The London Eye is right outside and you can buy a multi-ticket including the Dungeon, The London Eye and Madame Tussauds and make a real day of it.

Thank you for reading

Samantha

The Dementia Diaries – Chapter Thirteen Finally Accepting Help

On By samanthaIn THE DEMENTIA DIARIESLeave a comment

Mum’s health seems to plateau for six months or so and then, suddenly, something that she has been managing becomes impossible for her. About six months ago she stopped being able to get into the bath. My parents shower is over the bath so that is impossible too. I didn’t know that this was an issue, my dad didn’t volunteer the information but it became very apparent that Mum was not as clean as she should be. A few years ago the Occupational Therapist visited and installed handrails all over the house, including the bathroom but, even so, Mum can’t now climb over the side of the bath. Like many elderly people, she suffers from urinary incontinence and, although the washing machine is always on, Mum herself isn’t washing the parts of her body that really need cleaning. Incontinence pants such as Tena Lady are very expensive, they aren’t available on the NHS but the district nurse did bring some pads round. They are so cheap looking that they don’t even come with an adhesive strip and I don’t think Mum has the dexterity to use them correctly. We ordered some incontinence pants from Amazon but I’m not convinced Mum will use them, in fact I am sure she won’t.

I don’t come from a very open family and definitely would not feel comfortable giving Mum an intimate wash and neither would Dad. I bought some Water Wipes for her to use but the pack remains, unopened, in the bathroom and they wouldn’t be a long term solution anyway. I have been trying to persuade Dad to engage a carer but he just wouldn’t agree. He has a gardener come a few times a year and Mum constantly tells her to go home and she also constantly tells me when I visit “go home, your husband will be wondering where you are”. I know that Dad is worried about her being difficult with having a stranger come into the house and helping her but we are out of options. I tell Dad that if I were in Mum’s position I would want my family to ensure I was kept clean and we are letting her down by not doing so just because we are afraid of a tantrum. Finally he rings Social Services, we had been waiting for a referral from the psychiatrist who diagnosed Alzheimer’s but that never materialised, and they pay my parents a visit.

Annoyingly I couldn’t be there when Social Services arrived because I was working but they assessed my parents needs and put them in touch with Crossroads., a charity that supports unpaid carers. The very next day a woman from Crossroads visited my parents and spoke to them about any benefits they are entitled to such as Carers Allowance and filled out the form for a council tax exemption. Two days after that Dad had to go for an Xray as he hurt his shoulder . I was unable to get time off from work at such short notice. Dad arranged hospital transport and a volunteer from Crossroads offers to sit with Mum. Dad’s appointment was at 3pm but he still hadn’t been seen at 4.45pm and the carer rang him to say she had to leave. Fortunately I had finished work and didn’t have to collect my son as I usually do at that time so I rushed around to their house. Then Dad rang to say that hospital transport had forgotten him! The nurse told him he should have booked a morning appointment if he wanted to use that service. Poor Dad it had all been arranged that morning, the transport coordinator was well aware of his appointment time, not the most confidence inspiring start to accepting other people’s help. In the end he called a taxi. An expensive solution.

When I arrived at my parent’s house Mum told me to leave before I had even taken my coat off. I asked the volunteer how things had gone but she understandably rushed off without saying much. I made Mum a cup of tea and Dad was home about an hour later. So we learned that we have to book a carer/volunteer for much longer than is necessary in the case of hospital appointments and that hospital transport can’t be relied on.

Thank you for reading,

Samantha

Cover Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash