Hello Elden Ring - Goodbye January!

Elden Ring

I knew this would be a bad idea. I had time to fill and I love gaming so what would make more sense than buying a massive open world RPG for my Xbox? Nephew Ben had extolled its merits (and he is a connoisseur of these things) and even Jacqui encouraged me to get it.

It's a bizarre, nightmarish, post-apocalyptic fantasy world. A Japanese take on European medieval gothic fantasy. You have to see it to understand.

Initially your character dies every 2 minutes while searching in vain for something to do. You're given bafflingly cryptic clues and instructions which you are supposed to figure out or even manually jot down in a notepad. Unlike other video games of this type there is no quest-line facility built into the game which you can refer to. You're just supposed to know.

Thanks to YouTube there are gamers who've played it to death and can show you the short-cuts. 

It is an incredibly immersive and massive game. I have put in 120 hours so far. My character is level 164, and still he gets his arse handed to him on a plate.

Yesterday I played for 13 hours. 13 HOURS!

Beautiful but baffling.

I've had arguments with J about it already. She was working her arse off upstairs while I was sat on my arse trying to beat a boss for the 23rd time and getting so close. Doesn't she understand? I mean for the gods' sake!

So now I have chores to do in the morning which actually make me feel better about myself - keeping the house clean and tidy, food shopping etc.

Enough Elden Ring for this week. Anyway I haven't a clue what's going on in the game. 

This Melina bird shows up talks to my character now and again. She seems nice. I haven't a clue what she's on about. I just go around killing stuff. Someone's got to do it and it looks like it's me. Could be worse I guess.

Not Online Gaming!

Back to D&D or the old analogue version using books, tables, dice and real (or real-ish) humans. 

I explained to 2 people this year -  a neurology nurse and a radio producer what Dungeons and Dragons is. 

It's people sat around a table. One of them is a Dungeon Master (DM) - he or she has the rules and the adventure. The others are players who have an individual character with stats for Strength, Intelligence and so forth. They have classes such as warrior or wizard. The DM tells them where they are and what creatures are populating the place they are in. The players' characters decide what their actions will be and the DM decides what that entails. It might be that the characters are in a village and they have an audience with the local mayor. The village has been plagued by nearby orcs who are raiding the village for food and gold. The players are in conversation and they are trying to persuade the mayor they need more money than is being offered to deal with the problem. We can roll-play - the DM playing the mayor and the player playing his or her character - and then as DM I would say - roll a Persuasion check on a 20-sided dice. The player rolls a dice and if he fails or succeeds trying to roll high. If that argument the player had made was compelling I would say roll a 10 or higher. If it was less than that then it would be a failure and the dialogue would reflect that. The outcome is the outcome and the play and narrative continue.

So...I explain this to people. And they still think this is an Online game. 

People don't really listen. They're lazy and look out for key-words and when they hear one they think 'Ah - that resonates - I know all about that subject." But they get it wrong.

I guess I'm as guilty as anyone.

Narnia Review and fiction and stuff

Yes, I said I would review all the books in my last post. It's so long ago now. I liked them. The Christian thing never struck me in the earlier books, but in the last book especially it does come across - sacrifices and all that. They're really good - don't get me wrong. 

J says that children's books suit my new-found dementia as they keep me on the ball all the time. There is no guff - no padding. My attention is kept throughout. There is always something happening.

I've tried some other novels (there is much research on this subject to show novels aid the memory) but can't get into them. I'm blaming me not the novelist.

I never read anything other than comics (2000AD - not the Marvel shit) when I was a kid. I just couldn't get into them. My Mum was a primary school teacher who could get any kid into reading, but she gave up with me. I found just found every novel presented to me painfully slow and tedious. 

It wasn't until I was in my early 20s and I had a friend introduced me to the works of Martin Amis, Henry Miller, Philip Roth and ultimately Charles Bukowski, the latter who is my favourite writer. He can say in monosyllables in one paragraph what it would it would take me in 3 pages to say, and mine still wouldn't be right.

Radio 4 Interview

J and I were interviewed for a forthcoming 15 minute programme on Radio 4  - the 1.45pm slot after the news.

It was an interesting process. I expected someone to have a recording rig, but instead the producer held a device roughly the size of a box an iPhone would come in, with a muffler on the end. That was it. I guess all the software cancels out background noise.

It was an interesting experience. I shall reveal all after it is broadcast, which I understand will be in April 2023.

Beer

When you give up alcohol you think, oh god - how am I going to do this? Am I going to get withdrawal symptoms? Will I need to take up Xanax or barbiturates or get a dealer to give me crack to mitigate for the huge gap in my life? 

How will I go on? HOW WILL I COPE??

The truth was actually less dramatic. I love the TASTE of beer, and it wasn't the alcohol. Many of the brewers have really got the process sussed now and that horrible stale, yeasty aftertaste of such filth as Kaliber is quite rare now.

My favourites are Brooklyn Special Lager and Leffe Blonde 0.0%. Try them - they're great.

It's very nice to discover I'm not an alcoholic. It's also nice to see I'm slim again.

Why I'm angry all the time

I never write these posts on Saturdays.

I woke up at 9. NINE! That's such a lie-in. J was out last night with a friend. No text as to an eta, but that's normal. 

Stanley couldn't or wouldn't grasp that his Mummy was coming home. And the fireworks were not conducive to his relaxation. The slightest noise was setting him off, so I waited up with him, trying to calm him. J got home around 12.15. 

I then took a while to get to sleep.

But back to today, I woke up in a really good mood. So what happened then?

I don't know. Something made me really angry: full of inner rage. 

I really busied myself - I cleaned the window frames, put the cellophane on the windows for the winter and used the hairdryer to get the creases out which was not wholly successful - even had to take the curtains off too. 

I also mowed the grass. I repaired the flex on the hairdryer. Little things.

I thought this would make me feel good; after all I was achieving things and not wasting my day. 

I guess J relaxing and not taking in what I was doing was slightly grating - how dare she not appreciate my toiling for the good of the house! 

I reminded myself she's worked a 50 hour week. She's allowed to relax.

J was at the hairdressers from 10 till 2. Mmn. I'm really angry.

I'm still at a loss why I'm feeling this way.

The Semantic Variant hasn't really taken hold, but the mood swings are awful. It's Behavioural Variant I'm struggling with. My Frontal Lobe is being eroded - eaten away - and I'm finding it so difficult to join in socially where I used to so 

What’s on the TV? Rupaul's Drag Race, Strictly Come Dancing, and variations on those themes. I can’t join in with any of those. Only Murders in the Building is the exception which we all like watching. 

I can't do the frenetic, camp, fizz anymore, that's for sure. It means I spend more time on my own in the house than I used to.

I'm not perfect. J does the cooking: I clear up. It always has been and it's getting more challenging. Things are left habitually, without malice I've come to understand,  but it's just never-ending.

And of course, they feel they're tiptoeing around me, which of course they are. 

Apparently I’m leaving the oven on and the toilet seat up when I’m urinating. 

It's good to know this stuff. I can then work on these things.

Life is a balance and it's about choosing your battles.

Anyway, I sometimes feel my points of view are quickly dismissed in this house. Maybe that's the reason I get angry. 

It feels like it's me vs the females at times. Or me vs the non-demented at the least.

And there are plenty of people without dementia who can be just plain wrong. 

Many of whom are female.

Which proves it.

What do you do to relax?

John Taverner, exercise,  this video (below)? I'm much calmer on my own watching this CGI interior listening to the auto-Jazz in the background. Maybe Putin goes to bed listening to this. Maybe not.

Aside from walking the dog I need to do some proper exercise. My body's atrophied since giving up work. I haven't lost as much weight either as I thought I would since giving up alcohol, which is disappointing. I guess that's in part my age and a more sedentary life. 

I am not going to the gym. I used to be a gym-addict in my 20s. I went again for a few months in my late 40s. I can't stand the places.

Not sure the knees or ankles will stand running again. 

Swimming is my favourite exercise - wonderful flow activity with zero impact, but can you find a decent pool in this country?

No, is the answer you were looking for.

Dungeons and Dragons

Yes. You were waiting for that. And one can hardly blame you.

That's you that is.

So, Rick's pub is unavailable until 4pm so I've cleared it with the females and the 5 goblins will come here, to the dining room. I think the girls will make themselves scarce if they can help it. 

We can be quite loud and smelly. 

More fun in a Lovecraftian-horror, set in an epic-fantasy world akin to our own European Gothic-Rennaissance. How many boxes does that tick?

It really is proving to be one of the best D&D campaigns I've ever run - 'hugely exiting and full of peril'. Sounds like a modern film rating!

So we should have some fun tomorrow.

J and I love fantasy and sci-fi - X profoundly doesn't. J and I devoured House of The Dragon. We also found a really good Cyberpunk thing just started on Prime the other night: The Peripheral. Worth checking out.

So, on a positive note, I'll bid you goodnight.

Be nice to each other, read a good book. Remember the clocks go back tonight in the UK.

Ner-night.

(FACT: we only have GMT for 5 months of the year!)

 

I can’t get my head to think

Games Holiday

 So I went on holiday, a gaming holiday. And the 2nd day I got Covid and had to come home and isolate. Very annoying. I'd hired a car too and had (naughtily) taken Wilbur the spaniel with me, despite the 'No Pets' instruction.

(Anarchy or what? Yeah, I know!)

I came home and all symptoms were gone in 2 days and after a clean LF test I came back. 

We played some games but not so much any RPGs, but for the last 2 days I Dungeon Mastered for 11 hours . It was so exhilarating but really tiring. The players all loved it too. Very kindly, the guys rearranged the timetable to accommodate me. How very kind and thoughtful of them.

Lots of other games were played: 6mm Napoleonic wargaming, card games, railway games (this is a genre) boardgames or other weird things. I even played one where you had to feed a Panda bamboo.

Napoleonic Wargaming using 6mm figures. Can you see them?

But my thing is Role-Playing Games and with a few exceptions they're pretty much all I really want to play. Those exceptions are Marvel United and Here's Negen and a few others.

By the way, this was the first time in 20 years a timetable had been used to organise the week. 

Some said it would never catch on. Others that it would upset the apple cart. 

It proved to be quite the game-changer (see what I did there?). 

At least when something is written down it can be changed/moved.  With RPGs once you start a campaign you need the same players as many sessions make up the whole game, rather like chapters to a novel. Some of the games can last years even played weekly with a 3-4 hour session.

In previous holidays games sessions were conducted on a far more ad hoc basis and there were hours spent waiting around for other players playing games we were told would last no longer than 80 minutes. 6 hours later and they were still playing.

Wilbur's Holiday

Wilbur loves it on the farm but he found the composting area in the private area at the back. I ran through to the private area of the owners, through the huge hissing geese and posh chickens and despite calling his name several times I ended up having to drag him out of the compost by the scruff of his neck, still with a rotten fermenting apple in his gob.

He woke me up at 3am to puke it all up. Thanks Wilbur.

Farmer Wilbur 

I tried taking him for a walk, but 200 yards in he just dug his paws in and headed back for the farm. He just loves tootling around there and there alone. 

Luckily the other gamers (for the best part) like Wilbur too. He takes a seat next to me so he's on the same level when I'm DMing.

He's one of us.

Everyone you know is mental

Gamers are mental. This was the fourth time I've holidayed with them so I should know. 

I am now an EXPERT.

And it's all of them. People who don't wash, or do wash but not their clothes. People who have a room in their house full of Amazonian tree frogs. People who have made 6 attempts to leave the house because of their fear of getting Covid. People who are rules lawyers with no self awareness whatsoever regarding how they impact on others, who deny the existence of rules they aren't aware of. People who have the loudest voices you've ever heard. People who look at you in utter horror if you use a metaphor or analogy because they are so literal and cannot make that leap. People who can't bear any material on their feet. People who cannot bear any material on their arms. People who cannot do anything for themselves as their wives/mums do it all at home. 

Of course, I'm only scratching the surface here. But you get the gist.

Gamers are also kind, gentle, inclusive, accommodating, interesting and thoughtful.

And this is why a demented - such as myself - fits in with it all.

Life back on Earth

I had a stress-free time at the gaming holiday. It was hugely enjoyable and relaxing (except when Wilbur runs off to eat compost). 

Dungeon Mastering  for that amount of hours and the intensity of it also turbo charged me into a good place, but now I'm back I have all manner of crazy negative thoughts coming into my brainage, none of which were present on the holiday. A lot of these are the same old stupid things that have been haunting/possessing my conscious these last few years, all of which happened years ago.

Possible reasons as follows:

1. The Conservative Party. They certainly don't help matters.
2. Pelotons of city-boy cyclists on 15 grand bikes shouting about their what their broker's advised them while tearing round Richmond Park don't do my mental health any favours.
3. Knowing that I'm on a high as far as cognitive function goes means I can expect a trough in the very near future.
4. We all feed off of others' fears and worries unconsciously, whether from hormones, smells etc or body language and the subtleties of communications.
5. Other/don't know.

As always, I tell myself to remain creative and keep busy and all will be well. I still haven't drunk since that Friday in September when I lost my shit.

Luckily I found it again. 

It's just retaining my shit that's the problem.

Quaint little hellhole

 Vanless, clueless

Having sold the van I’m now consigned to public transport. I came down on the train for the first time in years. I’d thought Castle Cary was much further away  - the same distance Bath is - but it’s only 10 miles. Dad was there to pick me up - just like when I was in my early 20s! It was a really nice journey on a new train. My noise-cancelling headphones and a half-full carriage added to the quality of the journey.

Dad chose a really dumb way to go back. I wanted to go back through the pretty villages of Croscombe and Dulcote for old times’ sake. I used to cycle to see friends who lived there. Bike lights back then had about as much illumination as a cigarette. I never got run over, but I did end up in ditches a couple of times. 

Instead we went back through country A-roads with high hedges and littered for miles. With the detritus poured out of vehicles by scum. 

Long-haired hippy bastard!!

What can I tell you about this place? Well it’s changed and I’ve changed. We’ve changed. More populous, more affluent and at the same time more down and outs. Visible heroin problem and lots of mental heath issues. The 2 are not necessarily mutually exclusive of course.

I realise this is par for the course for almost every developed country in the Western World, but hey.

I know very few people here now. It always amazed me who came back, not who stayed. When I left and being a creature of habit, I never wanted to leave, yet I ended up in London, dirt-poor, looking for work. But it was so exciting and vibrant. To a young person it was great. No one calling me out for looking different, no one trying to ruin mine and my friends’ evening because it was their way of feeling better about themselves. In fact, lots of people like me, relishing their new found anonymity and that no one else gave much of a fuck either. No one was going to try and ruin your day. There were lots of people much more edgy than me so I really truly was a minnow in an ocean. Bliss.

Freedom in other words; a chance to reinvent oneself. I shone brightly for a few years, thankfully realising there was no place for me in the world of advertising - despite having won an award as a student - and then after an epiphany and retraining to be a stonemason, I found that the umbilical cord I thought had long-gone snapped me back home like a bungee and I got a job in a local stonemasonry banker shop - the only positive reply I received from a dozen letters, and so I returned, churning out stones in factory conditions at £4.15 per hour in 1996. A 39 hour week meant I would have a net pay of £130 if memory serves. And the place was like Lord of the Flies with the chosen alphas at the top who would give beatings out to the apprentices, but had their favourite - a surly little bastard just like them. They’d call it toxically male these days. 

I spent a year there an then went to a much nicer place in Shepton Mallet which produced a far better quality of work.

But I digress. It’s strange moving back to a small place when all your peers have left as well. It’s like the heart and soul of Eden has just disapperaed making it feel like a semblance of itself. There are people who never left who can be quite resentful that you were ‘disloyal’ as they see it. I find the patheticness of that really funny.

It’s also funny - to me at least - that the biggest rebel I know returned there. I know she’s told me why but I can’t remember and I think the reason that I can’t is that I could never truly get my head round why.

Brain not compute…brain not compute…

So after 2 1/2 years I packed everything in and moved back to London, but that’s another story.

Modern life IS rubbish (but it has its compensations)

I’m at the cafeteria of The Bishop’s Palace having a vegan sandwich. I’m not a vegan but I’ve developed an intolerance to lactose. It’s an age thing, you see.

Middle-classed hippies with their home-schooled boundary-free kids running and screaming at the other end of the restaurant. I’m here at the furthest end from them, safe with my coffee and cake with my noise-cancelling headphones.

What would I do without you…?

I recommend these to everyone who has dementia or any sensitivity to noise. Other people’s dogs, children, mobile phone conversations, loud revolting students (a tautology, I realise) and just general pub/restaurant/classroom etc noise. Makes life more tolerable. Not a cure, but a treatment.

You probably need a product demonstration. In fact, you definitely do if you haven’t put a pair on. Unless you’re already hard of hearing which I would say is a far better place than being hypersensitive to noise.

I should have been in advertising. 

Actually, no.

Even the people I know who went into it regret it.

Stonemasonry was the least worst way of earning a living I ever found. I tried a lot of different things see. I would have much preferred to be a trustafarian just doing course after course. Loved learning new things.

Maybe in the next life.

Don't read this if you're having a bad week.

I'm so happy you could puke.

I've heard it said that creativity sometimes flourishes when times are bad. For example the punk movement burst onto a complacent youth/music scene when Britain's economy was in the 💩 and everyone was fed up. 

Ditto this blog. I write usually when something or someone's pissed me off (which actually may be most of the time) but actually I've just had a great week. It's been fantastic actually.

(I'm ignoring our new plutocratic scum elected by 0.3% of the population by the way.)

So I'm going to buck the trend and try and write something positive about my wonderful week.

I'm now going to tell you about it. The disclaimer is if you're having a bad week then I apologise in advance and recommend you DON'T read this, okay?

Last Wednesday I met up with some interested parties in London (it's very exciting commuting into London when you live outside it) to discuss being a part of team who will deliver talks and articles about rare dementias. It's at a fledgling state at present as we thrashed out what we would and wouldn't say, and I spent the whole day (10-4pm) in Queen's Square and whilst it was tiring  - I was doing jaw-dislocating yawns by the end - I felt so empowered. I can still produce good ideas, I can metaphor and analogise with the best of them, and I think my brief experience in the world of advertising has given me the tools to know the message the recipient should be taking away at the end. 

I made a valuable contribution and that really made me feel good.

I was so tired that the next day that it was a total write-off!

80th birthday party

On Saturday evening J and I went into town to a joint 40th birthday between a husband and wife  - hence the 80th. 

To be honest I wasn't looking forward to it. Rather, I was nervous. There were certain people there I wasn't looking forward to seeing particularly.

When I arrived the welcome was very warm. Over the evening I didn't speak to everybody but that was fine. Some of the people there I wasn't close to, but one person I'd fallen out with (she'd rather fallen out with me) was friendly and we chewed the cud over the weather I think. 

Another old friend took me outside and I thought I was going to get a talking to about something or other, but I couldn't think what he was going to say. He asked me to explain my FTD so he could understand it and he asked loads of questions about me and it and Jacqui and my family and how they'd been affected and then seemed genuinely sorry that he and I had become disacquainted and he wanted to make an effort. 

How nice is that?

Our history is long (I've known him for 16 years) and complicated. It was a real olive branch though and it was a very genuine and bold thing for him to do. I really appreciate it, Andy.

Most people I hadn't seen for a while - years in some cases. It was very loud and almost impossible to hear anything once the DJ started up, so many of us non-smokers went outside into the cold.

One woman I knew vaguely and to be honest we'd never particularly got on very well, came up and hugged me. She said:

"You probably don't remember me but I used to hang out at the house in Abbeville Road when you lived there." 

I thought, what's she on about? 

"I know who you are - you're Laura." 

She went on about something else  - it was fine, nice even. It was only later I realised that someone must have mentioned dementia and she thought 'Alzheimers!' That's why she assumed I would have forgotten her.

Fact: 37% of dementia is NOT Alzheimers.

At 10.30pm I'd had enough - too much noise and socialising is very tiring for me now, so J and I got a taxi to Waterloo and went home. 

Such a pleasant evening - they're often the ones you have low expectations of, so you can be pleasantly surprised,

Drakkenheim lives!

The following day I did a 5 hour Dungeon Mastering session. I had prepped for the players with the expectation they would be finishing off a dungeon they'd left last session. Of course, this being a sandbox D&D adventure (i.e. non-linear: here's a map - go where you want, do what you want) they didn't do what I expected at all. They went to another bit of the map instead! 

To describe the scenario, it's rather like John Carpenter's The Thing crossed with Game of Thrones. Not for the faint-hearted!

I say! What fun!

I started off tired from the previous evening but after a while got it together. They did really well, and I brought in rival factions to the adventure to disrupt/help/hinder the party. This made running the adventure quite a lot more complicated as yours truly had to play all the Non-Player Characters who populate the gaming world.

I made the knight clumsy and incompetent yet zealous for the cause. He ended up getting eaten by a living wall in the end (as you do), having accidentally killed one of his own men.

One player, Chris had to make 2 exceptional rolls in order to avoid confrontation with 9 bandits. He rolled 20 and 20 (on a 20-sided dice), the chances of which are er...

Anyway, the players did an excellent job. They are really thinking about the game and how to overcome situations where they may be overpowered and they seem to be enjoying it. 

By the way, if you've got this far rest assured things can only go downhill in terms of enjoyability for me. Hold that thought!

Behavioural it is then.

 Angry lever jammed in the ON Position

Friday afternoon - I met the goblins at The Antelope (seriously) and there happened to be a beer festival. Amazing beers - New England Pales, IPAs and unfiltered pales. Gorgeous. I didn't realise how drunk I was.

I came back in good spirits and was sat in a room with X. What set me in a rage is immaterial. But rage it was.

Since then I have been very quiet and have made the decision not to drink except with a meal. I have been looking back at this moment in time and since then I have been feeling as though a change has occurred.

 A change within me. I could go more easily at any time. This is not a good place to be. It's like I'm shaking inside.

To placate it I listen to calming music and read. I watched The Rings of Power last night. Despite the basement dwellers' condemnation of it, I found it a great tonic.

It would seem the overriding form of dementia I have at  present is FTD Behavioural Variant, or Pick's Disease. The Frontal Lobe is degrading, which is a shame in the main as it's responsible for behaviour. So, more irrational shouting out, rudeness and anger.

This is a genuine trough in the overall dementia wavelength. I'm also a little bit more discombobulated when it comes to being put on the spot with conversation, being questioned and so forth. 

My conversational topics are becoming very limited as well. This must be very tedious for everyone else!

One of those clients

A man phoned me today as my masonry website is still online. He started almost telling me what I was going to do in the job as I would be working with another bloke I don't know. I took an instant dislike to this guy. You don't phone up a specialist and tell him how to do his job. He was pretty condescending in his manner too.

The conversation was very stilted and the temptation to tell him to fuck off was palpable.

I didn't though. 

Don't worry! If he calls again I will.

Bye Bye Van

There are certain things in life - key moments. This was one of them. Over the last couple of weeks 2 friends have come over to buy tools and equipment from me I will never use again. (Saying that, I kept other equipment I will probably never use again, but hey...).

But it was the van being sold and driven out of the driveway that has really resonated. We've been through a lot - we had a symbiotic relationship. I couldn't have done so many things without it. And then with all my decals still on, it goes from my life. And that was the end of that.

That's pretty significant I'd say.

It's funny how we anthropomorphise inanimate objects, machines etc. We love our pets and grieve for them like a family member when they pass. 

Although I haven't wept, there's definitely a part that's gone from my life. It wasn't just the van - it's what it signified: my working life; my contribution to the family; my living; the one job I hated less than the others.

It's made me feel confined. I want to go out less and less and only to places I'm familiar with, unless I REALLY want to see someone or something.

That chapter is now well and truly over. Suddenly my arrogant distain for the RDS monthly group has gone - I need it now. I belong there. These are my people. I've seen people degenerate in only the 2 years I've been a member. I thought I was almost immune to it. Like Chris or Alison my dementia would remain constant for 8-10 years. 

Nah.

Next Chapter

Well, I'm enjoying cuddling up with the dogs on the sofa and taking them for walks, although Stanley is extremely naughty at the moment. His mother won't hear anything of it though.

Evil Incarnate

I'm enjoying reading and preparing and running Dungeons and Dragons games. 

I need something physical to do as well. I'm atrophying quite quickly, plus the exercise is v good for the brain.

I'm going to Barnes Wetland Centre for 6 mornings starting in October in conjunction with RDS (Rare Dementia Support) as I love birds and nature so I am really looking forward to that.

I've got the games holiday in early October for a week.

I'm going to see my family in Somerset late September, and see my friend Mark.

Still got the gaming, Sundays, Mondays and Tuesdays.

That's pretty good. Better than nothing. Helps to write these things down so you can see them.

 I feel better now. Thanks for reading 🤓

My Brain has Stalled...

Have you seen my sausage?

 I talk a good game at times. Like a lot of people I have great advice for everyone on how to live. 

Today I am on the struggle bus, as J calls it. 

We walk 3 dogs every morning. Today X's Dachshund ran off in the woods. For 40 minutes we were in stress-city calling him, chasing him, calling him again. Hearing him bark in the distance. 

The other 2 dogs  - Wilbur especially - were getting stressed by it all. Why weren't we moving? Canine panic!

For us humans it was worse on J than it was for me. The very thought of losing another person's dog is so horribly stressful.

Eventually we got him. He had crossed the road a few times (not good) and I managed to lure him from 20 feet. He'd obviously scared himself witless and it was a huge relief to all. 

When we got home J had to jump straight into work. 

That's not the best way to start the week of course.

I can hear J upstairs. Sounds like she's up against it at work but I may be wrong. 

Me, I just can't get going, which is why I'm writing this.

I had a list of things to do - admin things relating to closing down my business. They'll wait till tomorrow.

I have some other things to do - physical stuff like putting some weeds and plants through the garden mincer and cutting a tile for a neighbour's DIY project. I can do those and at least they will be the boxes that I tick today,

Let's not set our sights too high today: listen to my body; listen to my brain.

I ❤️ Unimogs

Like a lot of men my age I'm notoriously difficult (in general too it must be said) but specifically in this instance with regards to buying presents for. 

So for Xmas my family had taken note of me extoling the many virtues of Unimogs - 4 wheel drive utility lorries made by a division of Mercedes - so they got me a driving experience with one!

Now me being me I left the gift card on the bookcase and did little about it as with FTD your executive functions become increasingly inert. After all, it's much safer here in front of the computer surrounded with D&D books.

Cue stepson Ben who prompted me to act, and we booked the session in for Saturday 20th August. We drove there - 5 of us - (leaving the dogs to be capably looked after by a neighbour's son) and had a very pleasant afternoon at https://tanksntrucks.com in the heart of Kent.

I'd never done off-roading before but it was really fun. Unimogs are quite different to regular vehicles. The 1984 model I drove had 10 gears and lever to make it go forward or reverse, so it was possible (if you were mad) to drive it at 70MPH in reverse. 

It's a very mechanical vehicle and and a very enjoyable experience pootling along. 

I would thoroughly recommend it. 

By the way, I was knackered in the evening, falling asleep on the sofa. J pointed out that it was not the 45 mins of driving the Unimog, but the socialising I had done that day that had done for me. 

And she was spot on.

Dream car...

What is there left to do?

• Sell van
• Liquidate (or whatever term they use) company
• Transfer stuff over to me after taxes etc
• Sort out the garden
• Decorate J's bedroom
• Decorate Ben's old bedroom
• Other stuff.

That is a lot of stuff. Easy to become quickly overwhelmed. I must break it down into smaller pieces or I'll be having sleepless nights. 

There's always so much to do isn't there?

The Sedentary Life Calls

Busy as a bee

I don't know what the hell has happened with the formatting here. I fxxxing hate centred or justified type. And yes I have been trying to get the formatting back to ranged left.

I've been really busy recently. Following on from the 6 days of work (I worked Monday too putting a sundial pedestal back for a Royal personage in Richmond Park) and so I thought I would continue with the momentum and do lots of work around the house - work I've neglected for months. J is simply too busy with her job to do stuff, so it's only fair I do the janitoring.

And then today…walking the dogs with J. She lets Chippy off who’s going ballistic and he shoots

off. We then saw that he’s not running after squirrels but some deer - he’s a dachshund too, which is comical yet still unacceptable.. Panic takes us. 

I’m wearing sunglasses at 7 in the morning in the expectation that within half an hour I’m really going to need them. I start running not looking at the uneven ground and turn my ankle. 

Cue Malcolm Tucker impression.

Oh blast...

So this throws a spanner in the works. I’ve turned ankles and sprained wrists all my life so I know how to deal with them (foot up, ice pack on and off in 20 minute bursts).

Back to the walk and we searched for Chippy for 15 minutes or so. We returned to the spot where he'd disappeared and there he was, coming from the other direction, with a euphoric, deranged face on.

But I’m a bear with a sore head. Don’t come near me.

I will bite. Or throw something. Or worse. 

Oh, if I had napalm right now...

Thing is while I still had the bit between my teeth I was going to start decorating a bedroom next week. Hopefully with a rest I can still do that. 

If not I'll read that ever increasing mountain of D&D books.

Bring on Autumn. The coolness, the water, the colours, the perfumes, the relief from this un-British heat and drought.

So next week we are thankfully forecast lower temperatures and rain. I read today our wonderful privatised water utilities haemorrhage billions of gallons; Thames Water alone 600 million gallons of water A DAY. We have the only privatised water companies in the world, and when they’re not pumping thousands of tons of raw sewage into our lovely rivers they’re awarding themselves and their shareholders millions of pounds in dividends. 

Makes ya proud, don’t it?

Think of the animals

Awful pictures of wildlife that have been killed by dehydration. I’ve got an insect water feeder coming today.

I get very depressed and sad about animals. We treat them so awfully. I still eat meat but I’m veering towards vegetarianism. With the passing days I like to think I would miss meat less and less.

I suspect this is to do with FTD - even though my empathy to humans is diminished I have heightened emotions. Especially towards maltreatment of children and animals.

Current Music and Media Tastes

I’m very much in a practical mode at the moment. I’m really not interested in reading D&D books (despite having bought yet another adventure book…).

What I’m currently into:

George Duke - Fusion

Banda Black Rio - 70s Brazilian funk

YouTube - barely watch it. Ditto Abba.

Samba makes me really happy - keeps my spirits up. It just has that vibrancy and vivacity that is absent from say, this.

Especially when George Duke plays it on Brazilian Love Affair. Don’t like the sloppy R&B stuff, but I do love the fusion!

It’s too much noodling for most. I love to be bombarded with it. I can’t get bored with it. 

As you were.

I don't do meetings, I just do doing.

Culture of Guff

Having not been in the culture of corporations or medium to large companies for several years, I'd rather forgotten meetings. 

There's a certain type of people who relish meetings. "Goody! We're going to have a meeting!" they cry.

They've been practising their delivery, their jokes (the obvious ones the rest of us think of but can't be bothered to say) which they laugh at themselves, and will drone on and on about the one thing they're interested in that's of little or no interest to the rest of us. 

In my judgmental way, I imagine such people are often pretty ineffective in the workplace, but I digress...

To the rest of us, meetings are an intrusion to an already hectic workload. At best, a necessary evil where 5-10% of the content actually applies to you. 

As you can guess, I was in a meeting the other day. I can't divulge the contents, suffice to say I was no clearer at the end than I was at the beginning.

I used to think a meeting was a sorting office, to provide clarity and strategy in order to efficiently achieve a shared goal.

What an idiot I was!

Now this may just be me being demented, or it may be that in my 20 years absence from the world of meetings, their very nature has changed to become more nuanced and holistic. Perhaps I'm not aware of the subtleties of New Meetings and this is how I fail to grasp the information subtly contained within.

It must be me, as at the end of the meeting almost everyone looked really pleased. However, we did not put a proposition down as to what we wanted to achieve, who we needed to speak to and how we were to communicate it. 

I had mistakenly thought this was the whole point.

When Martin Duncan-Jones - a very clever friend of mine - was at university he was told to not write  essays starting with an assertion, which is then backed up with facts, ending with a conclusion, but to talk about things in a 'perhaps this could be said...perhaps that could be said..." type of way. 

He produced a meandering essay he knew was absolute drivel, and they were so impressed they ended up using it as a teaching-aid.

He realised then the world had gone mad.

Hello world.

The Burden of Dementia

As a person with dementia I'm always trying to delve deep within myself to ascertain what is guiding me at any one moment. Why did I do that, why did I say that to that person, in that way, what makes me happy, what could I do now this minute, what I didn't I like about this or that.

It's all about me, with the odd realisation that I could make the others working upstairs a cup of tea or vacuum the house. 

If something's out of place or someone's left something somewhere it shouldn't be I can get really arsey about it. An obsession with order is very much an FTD trait.

As is lack of empathy.

I don't consider those closest to me a lot of the time  - the space and time they're giving me. Their patience at dealing with me while they deal with their own lives: the cost of living crisis, their own careers, their own money worries, worries about other family members and on it goes.

And for much of the time I'm quite oblivious to their needs. I've become a teenaged me who is happiest gaming or listening to music, with friends. 

I should start going swimming again.

See? No worries at all.

Then it dawns on me and I remember to consider others and that if they left something where it shouldn't be they were busy or tired and it probably doesn't bother them and after all it's not a big deal. 

But that mindset is difficult to sustain.

Dementia is a burden to everyone nearest you.

The last Bay

Back to tangibles...

Worked with Fyfe this week in Teddington. This is my penultimate job. Very simple - to take out a PVC double-glazed window and the bricks and lintel above the window and install brand new hand-carved Bath Stone features to an early 20th century semi-detached house.

Before and After...but can you tell which is which?

The PVC window was held in with just 4 galvanised screws and some mastic but it had been there 20 years or so. The lintel was odd but again like the terrible brickwork, was poorly constructed using pea shingle as aggregate so it was light enough for us to take it out quite easily.

We worked hard and effectively that week. Oddly enough my muscle memory was intact and lifting, sawing and everything else was fine. I guess walking the dogs had prevented me from atrophying too much.

The client was really happy and paid us on the day. It was a job he'd been wanting to do for a few years so it was a great relief for him to finally have it done. Lovely people - I've been lucky for the best part with clients. Only had a couple of cu....nutters.

As these things do, a sleepless Sunday/Monday night and the adrenalin keeps me going, then I crashed at the weekend. Fizzled out.

However, I hope to keep myself going  - this has galvanised me and like Baron Munchausen  I have shaken the dust and cobwebs off and am now striding around the world like a mighty Apollo...

I shall seize the moment with this new found energy and next week: garden-weeding and bramble-destruction! 

I shall use a variety of sharp objects and powered implements. 

Death to invasive flora!!!

Yes, gardening. At least I can do stuff around the house and garden. Being busy is difficult to maintain, but I should be doing odd jobs far more.

Let's see if I can keep the momentum going...

Gussets from hell!

Atrophy be Damned!!

Exclamation marks are the order of the day. Yes, I'm in one of those moods.

Days have been wasted by yours truly watching YouTube videos on my computer. They are my TikToks. I'm actually rather angry with myself for this as I'm wasting what life I have left.

So I turned the computer off and started reading that D&D adventure, and then I started to précis it, which I've found is the only way I can ever remember what the hell it is and then run it competently.

I am now  - for me - really on the ball and full of energy. It's lifted me up from a trough where I was getting pretty depressed, thinking I would not be able to DM anymore.

I'm my own worst enemy  - it's easy to fall back into just wasting your days away achieving nothing. I don't want to do that, so I turn my computer off and read and write instead. And it makes me tired, but in a good way.

The Exclamation Mark in Art.

(Dear reader: I lapsed and spent the rest of the day watching videos on YouTube...)

It's the weather forecast, stoopid!

So it's forecast to be the hottest day of the year. We've walked the dogs and and breakfasted every man, woman and beast (and other). J's been asked to travel to the west of England for work tomorrow (which is utter madness) and is concerned about tyre pressure, the risk of mechanical and tyre failure forefront in her mind, and her idiot bosses have called a meeting for the hottest day of the year.

Today they cancelled it.

I always wonder what takes these people so long to figure shit out. The meteorological centres use some of the biggest computers in the world. It's for our benefit. Why leave it to the last moment?

Fyfe and I are due to start a project in Teddington and we're sensibly taking Monday and Tuesday off as it is unhealthily hot to do any manual labour.  Many's the time I've worked in 30 degrees plus. You take on gallons of water and you sweat it all out - your t-shirt ends up white with salt - and in the evening you finally do a very low yield of pee that looks like creosote.

Very few things are worth that amount of toil - I'm not putting myself through it when it's not a matter of life or death.

I'm keeping cool by closing the curtains in the morning and keeping the doors shut. Leaving the windows open with the sun streaming in and you'll be as hot as it is outside. Makes sense don't it?

Plus I love to let the darkness enshroud me.

Benjamin Buitoni

Reversal/Nostalgia

So I'm going backwards. I'm obsessional about Dungeons and Dragons - a game I played as a teenager which I recently took up again (as a lot of people have done) when the latest edition came out in 2014.

I've got back in touch with old school-friends as they were happy days for me. Precious memories. 

Well, the sixth-form was at least.

My favourite group is now Abba. As a boy I hated them, though did I secretly like them? I don't know. I remember thinking they were soppy as they sang about love and relationships. I was 12 when they split up, so I guess I was too young and/or the wrong sex. 

For some reason their music completely resonates with 52 year old me. Björn Ulvaeus says there's a happy/sad that that's part of the Swedish character, and that is very prevalent in their music. Lots of other studies show that the verse/chorus patterns and the sing-a-long-ability of their songs also resonates in our brains.

(However, some of the songs are deceptively difficult to sing and the harmonies very, very difficult!)

Jacqui and I are going to see them on Sunday. I'm wearing my sunflower lanyard for the first time as I think I will be an emotional mess. The concert is apparently incredibly immersive and emotional. 

I don't think, I KNOW I will be an emotional mess.

NOT holograms. Okay?

Dining Realisation

Last week J and I went for lunch in a lovely restaurant in Surbiton. We were the only ones when we arrived. Some soft funk/fusion music played in the background. It was really agreeable.

We hadn't been for a meal like this since before lockdown.

I was very much in the moment and realised how much I'd deteriorated. So much visual and aural information bombarding me. My brain foggier than ever. Smiling Jacqui in front of me looking so pretty. I was happy but I realised at that point I have about 5 or 6 years left. 

My grandmother used to say stuff like that at Christmas dinner. Lol. 

This realisation didn't make me sad. Those things don't anymore. It's just the way it is.

I'm DEFINITELY retiring after the bay window in Teddington (scheduled for July 22) and liquidating the business. Time to find something else to do, and enjoy what's left while I still can.

Lazy

One part of the realisation above is that I'm finding it harder and harder to motivate myself.

That feeling you get when you know you should be doing something but you're doing nothing instead. When you think of all the friends you haven't spoken to for ages and you still don't contact them. I know that I should clear the back of the van, but I don't. I know I should vacuum the house, order a skip, chase up the DVLA etc etc.

Nothing happens.

I should read that particular book in preparation for Sunday's session. 

I just about manage to do this, still.

I know, I know. You do that exact same thing too. 

Sure you do.

You've been avoiding me.

Remember me? 

Nice guy up the road. He has a spaniel too. We used to stop and chat. Have a middle-aged bloke moan. All good natured. I saw him the other day. He said "Hiya!" and turned right to go up the main road. I'm pretty sure that's not the way he intended to go as the park entrance is on the adjacent road, where he was originally heading.

I don't think he wanted to make contact.

I've had that on social media too. People I thought I had a long history of friendship with: those friends and acquaintances separated by distance or time who you knew really well back in the day. You'd been through formative experiences together, helped each other, fallen out, fallen back in; all the stuff friends do.

Silence from some. I can't help but feel disappointed when that happens. 

A few people (and they are a minority) didn't send me a text or post on Facebook when I did my dramatic "Notification of Dementia" Facebook post back, whenever it was. 

One family in particular really disappointed me by an almost total absence of communication. 

I guess some old friends probably feel awkward, or they may be thinking well, he was always a bit of faux-pas merchant or a loose canon; he must be bloody mental now. 

Or simply 'what do I say?, 'what can I say?'

That's me on the left and you on the right.

The fact is I haven't changed markedly since we last spoke. I am going downhill in many ways, but not so as you'd notice. Not superficially at least.

I still read the paper, have an opinion on almost everything. Yeah - still the same. 

Just more emotional, forget words, absent-minded. That kind of thing. Can't do noise - children's birthday parties would be hell.

(And the rest, but I won't go into details here.)

But it would be nice to see you. 😜

Let someone else have the sun!

Chapel Life

I chatted to my naughty cousin, Steffan, while we were having the family gathering in April. It was the most we'd spoken ever. We compared notes.

The title above is how he described his upbringing. Did that resonate with me.

Our parents were forced to go to chapel as kids - as soon as they were adults they stopped going. But that doesn't really change much, except you now have Sundays free, for it was most of the day they attended.

Ah, the benefits of non-conformist repression. Knowing you’re born a sinner, last in the queue, to make way for your betters, never ever be late for anyone, to know your place in the world and just aim for the middle as it’s the best you’re ever going to achieve. 

And they've got you for life.

Yes - it’s the nuclear fall-out of centuries of chapel life, ingrained in families wherever those sinister little buildings arose.

For example, I bought my parents some good quality knives for Xmas as the ones they bought in the garage with coupons all those years ago are rubbish. 

Oni yw fy sbwriel o safon?

'Why are you buying us nice things?'  In other words, 'We’re Welsh - we shouldn’t have good stuff.' 

'I know this knife is as sharp as a spoon but it’s good enough for us.'

'My 2 pairs of nylon underpants will see me out.'

Etc.

My parents' generation were told if you were bright the most you could aspire to be was a school teacher, which is why so many Welsh teachers worked in London schools. 

I met an old Welsh guy who pointed this out to me on a business networking social I did years ago. 

“Don’t tell me what your parents do - they’re teachers.” 

How did he know? It’s all you were told you could do if you were bright and Welsh. 

'I told my careers master I wanted to be a Management Consultant. They laughed at me ‘You can't do that; you’re Welsh!’'

You may laugh at that. But that is institutionalised repression in a nutshell;  and it took out lots of capable people for centuries, and all the while everyone else doffed their caps to their betters. 

And it filtered down to me and my cousin. And no doubt others.

I guess rugby offered a middle finger to the mine-owner - the only opportunity to vent the frustration. It's one of those situations where you can get one over on your dominant neighbour. It makes you feel good for a bit when you win but ultimately it doesn't really change anything for the better.

Arthur English

 Noise of female

I'm very noise-sensitive today. I couldn't do breakfast at all. Too much jaw-jaw. I just took myself off and wrote a long email to an old friend I'd recently got back in contact with, who lives in Sydney, Oz. He's a mason too and still going at 65.

It's good to be in contact with old friends and with modern communications the world seems a little smaller, and the people you want to call just a stone's throw away. It's the best thing about the 21st Century. So far.

There's now the huge dull throb of whatever it is they're using to build whatever it is they're building at the hospital behind us. It's awful. Goes through to the bones. The house feels it too, as it shakes away like an old auntie at a wedding party.

My noise-cancelling headphones aren't quite as effective as I'd like. Perhaps the next generation will be world-cancelling headphones. 

I guess they'd be more like a helmet though.

The End

J has told me not to read the papers so much as I get so wound up with it all. My brain churns it around - over and over and over like hot coals in a tumble dryer. I've always had this but it seems to be worse now with FTD.

It does seem like end-times at the moment. 

• The environment. 
• War in Europe (we were told this would never happen again after WW2 but for some reason people don't count what happened in the former Yugoslavia.) 
• China. 
• Price of fossil fuels
• Everything else.

And there are still people who are so far down the rabbit-hole they think we're the bad guys.

At least in the west we have the luxury of thinking we're the bad guys. You don't have the option of questioning the state in Russia or China without serious repercussions. 

Activities for the demented

Today I mowed the lawn for the first time in months (maybe years). It was quite easy. Now we can see the dog poos too. I also cleaned the patio which was still covered in Saharan dust after that weird rain a week or 2 ago. Looks better.

Geraint Davies, earlier today.

I am also going to clean the house as J's mother who is also called J (saves a lot of fuss and bother - I'm thinking of changing my name to J as well) is coming to stay with us. So I'll do that on Thursday as the tides of chaos will destroy my good work if it's done today.

And I need to sort out the window sill on the bay. It's actually not a single sill but a bunch of protruding bricks covered in sand and cement. Pretty crap for the Edwardians. I guess we were going downhill at that stage after the high-standards of the Victorians.

Aren't you glad you read all this? But it is important for us demented ones to have shit to do otherwise we atrophy much more quickly. A few tasks every day. This is why a lot of us get volunteering work or keep going as long as we can, reducing our hours as we progress.

The Rick Wakeman of Dungeons and Dragons

As the masterful prog keyboard wizard himself played 2 keyboards simultaneously, I have been running 2 D&D campaigns - not quite simultaneously - but 2 in one week. That's quite a challenge.

We're keeping the Sunday group small and manageable as things can get quite noisy and out of hand with more than 5 players. This group is focused and I am enjoying running the games very much. I'm really looking forward to Sunday. 

It's great to have these things in the diary that punctuate our week - rather like booking holidays or weekends away. It gives us hope.

An Apology

Having been told off by J for naming names and the possible repercussions thereof, I have now turned over a new leaf with a more diplomatic and considered approach to blog writing.

I tried to explain that should anyone come to the door with bad intentions I have first-rate weaponry and a foolproof method of body disposal. Unfortunately, this did little to assuage her. 

No pleasing some people.