I did enjoy immensely reading the Yorkshire playwright Alan Bennett's 'Untold Stories'. It's a sort of auto-biographical rummage through his diaries. It is fabulously hilarious. especially as it has the frisson of indiscretion; in the foreword he says he is penning this work as he has been diagnosed terminally ill, and he may as well tell his personal story, indiscretions and all. He is still with us, and has survived the revelations of his indiscretions . . .
The most poignant part of his diaries, for me, is when he describes his parents. His mother went a bit mental when his parents retired, and was placed in the local mental hospital (loony bin) from time to time. Bennett's Dad visited her every day she was incarcerated, for say twenty years, until his death. She lasted for decades more, as a slightly loony inmate in various old peoples' homes. He writes coherently about her loss of personality, whilst what looks exactly like Mom is still there. His Mom lasted until about age 92, if I remember correctly . . . . terrifically uplifting stuff, Mr Bennett, and I note that it's still in print . . .
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