After a bit, conversations with my olde dad, who had some form of dementia, were always the same conversation which we trotted through. It was more a form of ritual than a conversation. But then most conversations rehearse the same subjects. When I meet up again with a friend after a couple of months it will be the same stuff, though with some advance in the storyline. In this they are more like soap operas. The same themes and characters reaffirmed to lock you in but with a new segment of evolution. For example: United have had a couple of victories since last time; maybe they’ve turned the corner. Or else, how did it go in the 11+ exam for young Sammy? There are new entries. The three or four conversations all move on by a square in the board game of life: United; kids; work. Who knows? Maybe a new plot line will surface. With my dad we were stuck on the same square.  In the board game it would be where you have to miss a go, or, as far as conversations with my dad were concerned, miss all your go’s. We would be forever stuck on  Bow Street and the Chance card would have said you have neglected to pay your income tax, stay here in Bow Street forever and never throw another dice. That’s tragic, of course, but also comic. We are made to spend our lives at Bow Street. You cannot advance from there, so you have to improvise an elaborate and courtly dance within the perimeter, a weird gavotte. At least you get to explore a new trope. With people who don’t have dementia there are no explorations. It is the same leaden-footed hoofing. People don’t like taking too many risks in their conversation. If you’re lucky you might get on to Vine Street, but there’s not much passing go.

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