I travelled down to Cornwall this last weekend. A blend of pleasure and of pain. The beautiful Cornish coast, the pleasure. Visiting my Aunty in her dementia ward, the pain. For this visit I must find a way to collect myself, gather myself up. There seems no graduation and it never fails to turn the key on all the perplexities that make mental illness so wretched. My Aunt. I know she is there; but I cannot know what it is now burning, or might burn within her mind. She is dislocated from life, and almost from me and it blunts things. And then, amidst all the shouting and distraction, she looks deep into my eyes with sudden unexpected smiles assembling themselves into a pattern of extraordinary charm. There she is all over again. The Aunt I know and love.
but still enjoying her tea
Afterwards, I go with my husband and we stand surveying the beautiful shore of Constantine beach.
a beautiful fish chandelier (want)
Then the long journey home again... with Bingley and Darcy in tow.
Bing conducting car survey (or is that - eye spy with my little eye?!)
Darcy - "...are we there yet..?"