Watching Neil struggle to draw the hands and numbers on a clock face, I finally accepted what I had feared for months. My wonderful, articulate, clever, gregarious and capable husband wasn’t simply becoming forgetful and scatty. He hadn’t grown bored or uninterested in our family life. He had dementia – aged just 51.
Although that formal diagnosis in 2014 was upsetting, it was also a relief. There was a reason behind what we’d all been struggling with for a while. When Neil battled with those clock-face dementia tests, where he had to write clock numbers on a circle and then draw on the