Holiday Destination

23rd October 2011 Sunday

Wind rushing in through the cat flap tonight. Rain sheeting against the windows.

Late afternoon we walk through chestnut and beech woods at Killlerton. The ground is a thick carpet of beech nut shells which crunch under our feet like new snow. I don’t hear the roar of the M5 below us till my husband mentions it. I pick up the half open prickly green case of a chestnut and find a glistening brown conker inside - snug as a baby in a fur lined cot. The other half of the chestnut heart is missing - lost or trampled on in the dead leaves.

We are talking about holidays. My husband says,

When we were in Dementia....

We look at each other and laugh.

Do you mean Madeira?

Well there is an M and a D in both of them, he says.

I wish dementia was a holiday destination I say.

Instead of what it is.