Bert's real name is Albert. Not Bertrand nor Gilbert or Hubert but Albert. Born in east London in 1936, I guess that many baby boys were called Albert in those days.
Over the last two months I had been round to Bert's house several times. Either he wasn't answering or he simply wasn't in. Each time I bellowed through the letterbox, "Bert! It's me - Neil!" but nothing stirred within. Previously, the door had always been unlocked.
Yesterday, in my frustration, I decided to see if the next door neighbour knew what was going on. She told me that the heating system had broken down in Bert's house so he and his grown up son Philip had gone to stay with his ex-wife Pat in another suburb of Sheffield.
Some time ago, Pat had given me her mobile number but I think she got a digit or two wrong so I asked the neighbour if she had Pat's number. Kindly, she wrote it down for me.
Pat was 85 a week ago. Although she is a natural born worrier, she still possesses all her marbles as we say in Yorkshire. In other words, her brain is in good working order.
Married life with Bert had become impossible thirty five years ago. They split up but always stayed in regular contact. After all they had two sons in common. She has told me how nasty Bert could be in the confines of their own home. He was never physically abusive but often got angry and lashed her with his tongue. She couldn't stand it any more so escaped from the pressure cooker of their marriage.
Soon after I got back home, I dialled Pat's number and she apologised for not having kept me informed about the temporary house move. I also got to talk to Bert whose part in the conversation was quite hard to follow. The truth is that he really is losing his marbles now.
Though I have never been there, I know that Pat lives in a small terraced house with two bedrooms. I was curious about the temporary sleeping arrangements.
Pat was happy to explain that she and Bert are sleeping in her double bed but head to toe or top to tail. Imagine that! A spouse you split from thirty five years ago lying next to you in a double bed but the wrong way round. I doubt that it was ever something she imagined happening but she seemed quite cool about it. It isn't stressing her out.
Life is filled with odd twists and turns. I might drive over there some day soon and see how they're getting on. Besides, I need to give Bert the two cans of Bacardi and coke that I bought for him.
Hopefully Bert gets back to his ow pad. It sounds like he's going to need some care.
ReplyDeleteHe is very lucky that he has got Philip (his son) and Pat to support him.
DeleteSounds to me like Bert doesn't need Bacardi and Coke!
ReplyDeleteAs you descend into dementia, there have to be a few treats.
DeletePat is a better woman than I, there is no way on earth either of my two exes will ever stay in my home. It's easier to say no when you only have one small bedroom, but even if I had a proper house with plenty of rooms, neither ex would be allowed.
ReplyDeleteAt least you know now that Bert is safe and being cared for.
Pat has a very kind heart... maybe too kind.
DeleteThat really is an unexpected twist in the tale of Bert's life.
ReplyDeleteIt is very good of you to have persisted in getting in touch with your old friend again. Bert and Pat's story is once again proof of the fact that we never know what really goes on behind closed doors (and it really isn't our business most of the time anyway).
When I think of my ex-husband (the Sicilian one who most likely is still alive, has married again and probably became a proud father and grandfather), I can not at all imagine us ever living in the same house again, let alone sleeping in the same bed, no matter which way round.
Breaking up with someone can be so traumatic that for many people it's natural never to want to see the other party ever again. Just too much hurt.
DeleteShe sounds like a very pragmatic lady.
ReplyDeleteShe is very sweet and pretty intelligent too... but perhaps too "soft".
DeleteDo you recite Albert And The Lion by Stanley Holloway to Bert? I am sure he remembers it.
ReplyDeleteI will Google that Dave.
DeleteAnd I am called a queer. That is a very odd sleeping arrangement unless you have a foot fetish. It is sad to watch someone decline as Bert has. In a way I was lucky.
ReplyDeleteI swear that I have never called you "a queer" Andrew! And yes Ray left you before he reached the nether world of old age.
DeleteI am trying to think how I would react if my ex showed up looking for a place to sleep. I might suggest the local morgue.
ReplyDeleteWhy? Was he a zombie?
DeleteNot sure what is worse...... having his feet by her head or his head? What a generous woman to take him back in his hour of need.
ReplyDeleteShe has often said to me, "Even though we have been apart for years I still have a big soft spot for Bert. I still love him in a way".
DeleteThe word compassion comes to mind. Pat's gesture is sweet and responsible. And you are good keeping in touch with Bert.
ReplyDeleteShe could easily be Saint Pat.
DeleteBert's lucky Pat didn't hold a grudge. Good on her for taking him in as he clearly needs the help as he ages.
ReplyDeleteShe rose above the spitefulness.
DeleteI'm sorry. I can't take this all in. Bert was an emotional abuser? His wife is letting him share her bed albeit in a way in which neither one can sleep comfortably? You're giving him Bacardi and Coke?
ReplyDeleteThat's the crazy English for you Mary! I can see how it might look from the outside.
DeleteWell, Pat is much nicer than I would be. Luckily, I have several children with homes big enough to accommodate their dad if it came to that.
ReplyDeleteI hope I die in my sleep before I need care.
It is a very lucky old person who falls asleep forever in a rocking chair on the porch as a golden sunset fades away in the west.
DeleteThat's funny. The first time I saw anyone sleep top-to-tail was in the movie "Beautiful Thing" -- I'd never heard of it before! Pat is certainly gracious to take them in. That's got to be a burden, especially with Bert's fading faculties.
ReplyDeleteIt's sad that Bert will now need care. I do hope that it won't fall on Pat, even though he has his son to look after him too. Dementia is a very difficult illness to care for, no matter how compassionate the carer.
ReplyDeleteI'm having a hard time imagining it - but then I do not know them... In a case like this, I think that here, social services might be able to help with temporary accommodation. (But I might be overly optimistic about that!)
ReplyDeleteLife is funny like that, you never know what's ahead.
ReplyDeleteWe all get old we all change
ReplyDeletePat seems like a saint to me. We say "lost her marbles, etc." here in Virginia too. When I cannot remember something or I cannot find something that I just had in my hand, a little bit of fear creeps into my head about dementia.
ReplyDelete'ow come nob'dy ever comes round 'ere with two cans o' bacardi 'n' coke fer me?
ReplyDeleteKudos for following up on Bert - it's not easy to keep visiting someone with dementia but you have persisted. I had a much-loved uncle called Albert who was born in 1934 but he was named after someone in the previous generation - and he was never Bert but sometimes Al.
ReplyDeleteTopping and tailing is fun when you're children - not so sure about adults. Kind of Pat, though, and sad that Bert is losing his marbles.
ReplyDelete