Caring by Angela Caldin
I’m pleased to announce that it’s official and I’ve got it in black and white. I’ve been assessed as a full-time carer for my husband who has Alzheimer’s and I’ve got my carer support claim form to prove it. It’s not a particularly user-friendly form, but I daresay I’ll come to grips with it in the fullness of time. The word carer doesn’t begin to cover the complexities of looking after someone who is slowly declining. Some people prefer the word caregiver and that is probably a more accurate description of what… Read More
Pennies from heaven by Trevor Plumbly
‘Every time it rains’ It was one of those corny old songs I caught on the radio the other day and it struck me that one of the advantages of age is that you can afford to let others do their heads in worrying about the future of the planet. I’m not what I’d describe as smug about things, more calmly observant; it would be nice to report that I’ve achieved this semi-tranquil state by some form of self-discipline or religious experience but sadly, that’s not the case. Water on stone is… Read More
Growing old by Angela Caldin
Talented man Headlining at Glastonbury at aged 80 seems an unlikely achievement, but not if you are Paul McCartney. This man has been part of my life since the Beatles burst on the scene when I was a teenager. Last week, he occupied the Pyramid Stage for more than two hours with a gig described by the Guardian as phenomenal. In a dark waistcoat and a simple white shirt, he looked great: no paunch, no stoop, no concessions at all to what is undeniably an advanced age. How does he do it?… Read More
Pride, prejudice and old lace by Trevor Plumbly
Iron ladies Much of my early education outside the classroom came from the afternoon teas where Aunt Phyllis presided over her genteel kangaroo court. Maiden aunts, as a social force, drifted into extinction around the1950s; mine was formidable and possessed of three major traits: an endless store of borrowed quotes, the capacity to consume more gin than a music hall tart and the ability to terrify me. The table was her high court bench and, during tea, dialogue was pretty much restricted to, ‘Sit up please’ and ‘Chew your food properly child.’… Read More
The autumn of discontent by Trevor Plumbly
Fatigue, vertigo and water torture Despite practically hibernating and trying hard not to inhale outdoors, I’ve somehow managed to catch the bloody thing and I’m scribbling this between bouts of horizontal stupor. In Britain, when the monarch was ill, they used to post daily health reports by the palace gates but they don’t advertise infirmity down here and I’m trying to adopt the ‘suck it up’ culture. However, this one’s a toughie for me, with total exhaustion and brain fade, interrupted by occasional bursts of mental flatulence. As with most infectious ailments,… Read More
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