It has been a tremendous week. We were invited to the 90th birthday lunch of a wonderful woman, Mary Redvers, whom we met through the Brooke, a charity for working equines. I first met her at a charity lunch in Windsor, where the brilliant Professor Kate Williams gave us a talk and took questions.
Mary and her children and grandchildren hosted the birthday lunch at the family stud in Gloucestershire: a beautiful place with foals trotting around the garden. They also had several lovely black lurchers, all totally untroubled by all the new feet and faces. Many of us, I am sure, also brought the scent of our own beloved hounds as well.
These lurchers were chilled and oblivious to it all. There was no stack of gifts for them to guard because Mary had said no presents, but rather, she urged us to donate to the Brooke, which we gladly did. The running total is now over £1000. I am Patron of The Brooke, and I and the whole team are thrilled by her kind gesture and her guests’ generosity.
Mary's late husband, John, was a fine painter, and there were several examples of his work around the house. Horses have long been a part of the family's passion, going back several generations.
They have many successes to their credit at home and abroad, and there was much flat racing memorabilia about the place, too. For this family to be so supportive of less fortunate equines around the world is a sign of their character and qualities.
Sally sat between one of Mary's sons, Josh, who, with his wife, Di, runs the Hampshire home, which is a wellbeing centre and also hosts several festivals and a literary event. I urged them to approach Isabel Hardman to talk about her Natural Health service book, and, after an exchange of emails, I think it will happen. Also, when they learned of my dementia, they invited me to take a break there. I may well take them up on this kind offer.
On Sally's other side was the very successful flat-racing trainer Ralph Beckett, who had six horses racing that day. He glanced discreetly at his phone occasionally, and had a good day, he later told me. Across from Sal was the Japanese dress designer Yuki Torii, who worked for Diana Princess of Wales.
Alastair Stewart reflects on a special 90th birthday lunch, getting the all-clear on a lung cancer scan and looks ahead to the upcoming spending review in this week's Living With Dementia
GB NEWSHe also did some pieces for Margaret Thatcher. He went to her London home for a final fitting on one occasion and was surprised there was no full-length mirror.
It made him chortle and risked the length of the dress being wrong. He worked around it and told me, courtesy of a wall mirror, in the end the dress was fine.... I guess the lady was for turning, on this one occasion!
I sat between Mary and a friend of hers, Emma, whose husband also had dementia. It proved a very useful chance to compare notes. Mary's late husband had converted from Anglicanism to Catholicism; we talked about the late Pope Francis and the new Pope Leo, and what a great job the BBC's religion editor Aleem Maabool had done in his coverage.
Also, there was Sir Evelyn John Webb-Carter, former Patron of The Brooke and an ex-commanding officer of the Household Division. He knows a thing or two about horses and, like us, he and his wife also adore donkeys. He came over to ask how I was, having previously taken me out for lunch after my diagnosis.
You may recall that I recently talked about successfully giving up smoking, with the help and support of the NHS-funded smoke-free Hampshire scheme.
I had a follow-up call to invite me for a lung-cancer scan. Well, I am thrilled and not a little amazed to say that after half a century or more of smoking, I have been given the all-clear - it was an uplifting letter to receive.
Also pleasing were emails from Dame Judi Dench and Sir Ranulph Fiennes, who asked me to sign their open letter to the Government seeking a ban on trophy hunting and permits for Britons to travel abroad to do it. I don't normally do it, or petitions, but this time I was swayed.
Our daughter is on holiday in Sri Lanka and has been sending wonderful pictures of elephants and other great creatures, proving you can travel to see and photograph them without the need to kill and mutilate.
Speaking of travel, I haven't flown since last year when I went to Berlin to see the Rolling Stones. I got a slightly snotty email from British Airways saying I'd lose several thousand Avios air miles unless I used them soon, but I could transfer them to one of my children.
Easier said than done - given my dementia - so the offer is grounded as it is too difficult, which I suspect is their intention.
On a brighter note, it has also been a week in which several friends I have not heard from for a while sent messages asking after me, which is an easy way to raise the spirits of those of us with dementia.
This week also saw a welcome change in the weather with periods of heavy rain. It put a green smile on the garden and the field and filled the pond with the ducks and ducklings, which I loved, as those kind enough to follow me on social media will know.
In politics, it was the Scottish by-election in Hamilton. Scotland was intriguing and a victory Labour desperately needed. Reform continues to behave like rats in a sack and came third: two facts which may be related.
Next week brings the spending review. I anticipate a shambles, and the winter fuel allowance will be tinkered with in a way that makes it even more difficult for the millions of pensioners with dementia. This really is a government without fiscal or health and care grip.
Prime Minister's Questions were good again. The speaker roared at the raucous House, demanding enough quiet to hear the answers, 'even if you don't think you're getting an answer’.
Kemi Badenoch also did well. I especially enjoyed it when she asked Keir Starmer what he thinks he has to look at in his folder. It reminded me of the time when I snuggled into a TV studio with armfuls of folders and Alastair Burnet told me I didn't need them because if I concentrated, I'd be fine as I knew it!
Finally, the mad house that is the White House yielded the Trump-Musk bust-up, demonstrating as Bob Dylan sang: “Money doesn't talk, it swears.”
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