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I am currently reading John Bayley’s book on his marriage to Iris Murdoch, which includes her demise into Alzheimer’s. This I realise is my ultimate fear, not necessary losing my mind, but losing my imagination. That must to be the cruellest blow especially to those whose life was once full of imagination, to be shown a piece of your mind in a form of book, essays or even in my case poetry and not only not being able to appreciated it but to not recognise as your own. John writes with such love and compassion but without a cloying sense of sweetness. He admits it is hard to watch someone you love revert back to a child almost and not give up. Yet he shows us that with a little patience, compassion, humour and the occasional screaming match that the world can continue to turn. I hope some day I will find someone that loves me that much.


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