I was diagnosed with Mixed Dementia, Alzheimer's and Vascular, on 31 July 2014. I may not have much of a short-term memory but that's one date that remains firmly in my ailing brain. At the time I was living happily alone in York and working full time as a non-clinical supervisor in the NHS, teaching Matrons and Sisters how to roster their staff. However, since dementia forced me into retirement I’ve lived alone, still happily, in a small village in the East Riding of Yorkshire. Being alone here during the pandemic could have been a disaster, but instead has become a triumph over loneliness and has shown me the importance of the people in our neighbourhood. Pre COVID-19, I didn't have time to get to know my village, whereas now, COVID has allowed me the space and time in my life to become and feel connected with those around me.

I moved to my village a year after being diagnosed. The hustle and bustle of York, once adored and embraced by me, was now becoming too loud, too confusing. It was important I found somewhere quieter to call home. My daughter had moved to the village with her partner some time back, so I was used to visiting and this influenced my choice to move here. But what struck me was the friendliness of this neighbourhood. I was a stranger yet people smiled and said hello. I felt comfortable here. So, when my thoughts came to moving, the village seemed the obvious choice. I needed to feel safe, to feel part of a community. I needed to feel I could cope here on my own if my daughter and son-in-law moved away. The village felt right.

Prior to our world changing and the word ‘lockdown’ entering our vocabulary, I spent most of the week travelling around the country, raising awareness, sowing seeds of knowledge into people's minds about my experience of dementia. I saw it as a gift from dementia, allowing me to retire early, so my gift in return was carving out a new career almost of public speaking and campaigning against the injustices that exist against those of us living with dementia.