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August 27, 2005

The Purple Elephant Report on the links between Gin and Dementia.

I was so proud of myself last night. Mr PE was out I had the whole evening to myself and I think I did more studying than I have ever done in my life. Not only that but I spent the whole evening reading theory. Heavy stuff. I didnít actually catch up (but do we ever?) but I was proud of myself all the same.

When my brain closed its gates and stopped allowing any new information through, I decided to treat myself to a gin and tonic. Now I secretly quite like gin and tonic, naturally I donít drink it in public because Iíve never seen anyone other than middle aged housewives drink the stuff (think ĎEarringí Pat from Eastenders) and I have a reputation to uphold. Coming to think of it I donít usually drink Gin in private either but the other day my Mum was clearing out her drinks cabinet and offered me this big bottle of Gin for free. Now we have tried to date this bottle accurately but neither of us are archaeologists, the best we can come up with is that Mum doesnít go near the stuff and I think I recognise the bottle from when I was living at home eight years ago.

Anyway after my gin and tonic I got myself an early night.
An hour and a half later I woke up desperate for a pee. Nothing unusual here this always happens to me when I drink alcohol. On the way to the bathroom I thought Iíd just check on Littleone, I know Iím not the only Mother who has to do that every time she stirs in the night. The thing is have you ever wondered what would happen if one night your child just WASNíT THERE?

I checked the other end of the bed, for she is a restless sleeper and sometimes turns upside down.
Nope.
I shook the covers just to make sure.
I checked her wendy house for she has been known to take a daytime nap in there.
Then I ran downstairs, I had left the light on for Mr PEís return. Perhaps she had wandered down thinking we were still up.
Not on the sofa. Not on the pile of floor cushions in the corner. Not in the kitchen.

It was then, my heart nearly leaping out of my mouth that it occurred to me to call her name. Several times.
Nothing but a deadly silence.

At that moment I was staring at the front door. We usually bolt and chain the front door before we go to bed but Mr. PE was not back yet so I had to leave them off. I know Littleone can open the door when it is just on its catch.
She must have escaped. My four year old was wandering the streets of Arbury at 12:30 on a Friday night.
I actually had the phone in my hand trying to decide who to call first, Mr PE or the police. The only rational part of my brain was at work trying to remember what pyjamas she was wearing so I could describe her accurately.
I couldnít remember what pyjamas I had dressed her in.
Why couldnít I remember?
And then it dawned on me, the reason I couldnít remember what pyjamas she was wearing was because I hadnít dressed her in them.
My Mum had.
She was spending the night at her Grandmaís house, so that I could get some work done.

Embarrassed I climbed back into bed feeling glad that no-one was around to witness the spectacle. It still took a good few minutes for my heart rate to get back to normal and it was only then that I remembered that I never did have that pee.

Gin - So thatís why they call it ĎMotherís Ruiní

Posted by purple elephant at August 27, 2005 09:45 AM