Hell Hole

9th May 2012 Wednesday

The wind is rattling my window like a child having a  tantrum. It’s late, too late to blog... don’t know why but I start reading an old diary from October 2007.

On October 10th there are two entries.

This is the first - 

Yesterday at Amnesty International in Taunton Pa stands in front of twenty people and talks for an hour, with no notes, about the beginning of the colonial era in Africa. And then his days in prison  - in The Hell Hole - in Harare in 2003.  He never ceases to amaze me.

This is the second - 

In the bath last night R says how terrible it is for him not to be able to remember words. He says his vocab is going. I’ve noticed it too. What he has relied on all his life - his ginormous vocab and memory......and now he can’t recall words - words he knows he knows. I’m beginning to feel an aura of fear around us. What if? What if? What would it be like if? I can’t imagine it.

I’m glad I couldn’t imagine it then. I had no idea -  that my own personal Hell Hole could ever become reality.