Burnt things

I am beginning as I will no doubt go on, randomly, but it is kinda fitting as noone tells you about the complete randomness of dementia.

By this I mean the lack of pattern to what's forgotten and what's remembered & how their very character changes. There will no doubt be more - and more serious - blogs about this but today's is about burnt things.

I am lucky that my dad is not currently a fire hazard like one of my colleagues was (he was also a wanderer & peered into people's back windows)  but he seems to only be able to recognize raw or burnt, not any level of cooked inbetween. To say things have to be well done is an understatement - the summer weather & my inability to bbq without burning things is a bit of a win it seems! Toast - the only thing he makes for himself - has to be black or it isn't "done". 

His favourite thing for dinner is mashed potato - I may start serving it with charcoal.