When Gordon was diagnosed with dementia, his sons, Dominic and Jeremy, wanted a way to stay connected with him and spend meaningful time together, while giving their mother – his primary carer – some time off.
Drawing on Gordon’s lifelong love of food, the brothers came up with what they called The Alphabet Restaurant Challenge – a regular eating adventure through London’s diverse restaurant scene. This simple but imaginative idea gave Gordon something to engage with and look forward to, and brought the three of them closer than ever before.
We spoke to Dominic about his experience with his father, The Alphabet Restaurant Challenge and the lessons he learned about ageing, connection, and navigating the challenges of later life.
What were the first signs that something was wrong with your father’s health, and how did his condition develop over time?
“A few years ago, my father was struck down with sepsis while on holiday in France. This led to a stroke and he was in hospital for three months, very close to death at one point. As soon as he came back home it was obvious that his memory had deteriorated. In 2020, at the age of 76, he was diagnosed with dementia. His cognitive decline was very gradual after that until his death from lung and heart complications in June 2024.”
How did your family handle his care, and what were some of the challenges?
“Dad didn’t require too much care. He was very forgetful, yes, and he could often be very inappropriate. But he was such a charming man that whenever when he struck up unusual conversations with complete strangers, which he was wont to do, they forgave his eccentricity. Mum cared for him at home but, quite rightly I think, wasn’t too hands on. His dementia wasn’t that serious that she couldn’t leave him for an hour or so while she nipped out. Otherwise, he would follow her around like a lost puppy sometimes.
She would take him to the golf club where he would wait in the clubhouse while she played. She would go shopping locally and leave him in a café for a couple of hours where the owners knew him. On a few rare occasions he wandered off but my mother ensured her phone number was writ large on a piece of paper in his wallet. And, again, his charm meant that strangers were always quick to phone her if he got lost.
The main problem was that most of his friends dropped him when it became clear he didn’t have much to add to the conversation. I think that happens with a lot of dementia sufferers. Mum tried to make use of local authority support for dementia sufferers but, to be honest, this is pretty thin on the ground.”
What role did you and your brother play in supporting your mum and dad through his dementia?
“My brother and I realised my mum needed a break from looking after him. Keen to get him out of the house, we tried to come up with ways we could spend fruitful time together. Dad struggled to concentrate for long periods so the cinema or the theatre didn’t work. Live sport or music proved too cold or too uncomfortable. But one thing he always loved was food and drink.
So we came up with our idea for what we called the Alphabet Restaurant Challenge. We would attempt to eat out at 26 London restaurants – perhaps one a month – in strict alphabetical order according to national cuisine. So, we started with Argentina, then Belgium, Cambodia, Dominican Republic and so on. The idea was to visit different parts of London and at the same time give my old man the chance to enjoy what, by this stage of his life, were three of his greatest pleasures: eating, drinking and spending time with his two grown-up sons.
We love the creativity and thought behind the Alphabet Restaurant Challenge. What were some of the memorable moments and challenges?
“Great moments included a very boozy dinner at a French restaurant in Putney. There were difficult moments, too. For example, for the letter H, we dined at an organic Hungarian restaurant in New Cross, in southeast London, called Rosemary. Dad’s memory, worse than ever, meant he asked the waiter over half a dozen times what his name was. For the letter I we ate at an Iranian restaurant, in East Sheen, in southwest London, and faced an embarrassing situation when he made highly inappropriate comments to the waitress. Like many dementia sufferers, he had started to lose his social filters.
My father died after the letter I. But my brother and I decided to continue the Alphabet Restaurant Challenge with my mother. So far we have only ticked off the letter J. My mother lives locally and we see her a great deal anyway so I’m not sure continuing the restaurant challenge is anything more than an excuse simply to go out for dinner regularly. But at least my mother is very comfortable travelling across London on public transport, whereas towards the end my dad could barely walk more than a few hundred yards.”
What impact has this experience with your father and dementia had on your outlook on life?
“In his final years the Alphabet Restaurant Challenge definitely brought my father closer to me and my brother than he ever was when we were younger. Seeing his mind and body deteriorate fairly rapidly has made me want to embrace life more fully as it reminds me of the little time we all have on this planet. My brother and I often discuss whether we might suffer ourselves from dementia later in life. Carpe diem and all that because we never know if our minds may dismantle themselves too.”
What advice would you give to anyone going through a similar situation?
“Ever since my father was diagnosed with dementia, my brother and I always used humour to defuse any awkward situation. Like any dementia sufferer, Dad often got very confused. He once asked my daughter if she was going out with my brother. He would ask strangers questions that really ought never to be asked. The only way to deal with these situations is through humour.
My father never minded us gently ridiculing him for his poor memory and inappropriate remarks. I think society tends to be too po-faced about dementia. Like many human afflictions, it’s embarrassing, yes, and makes others feel uncomfortable. But if you can’t laugh at it, you would just cry. I wanted Dad’s final years to be happy ones, filled with laughter and humour; not sad ones filled with awkwardness and self-pity. As we all know dementia has no cure. However, there has been success in drugs research to slow cognitive decline. That is reason for optimism. If I were to be diagnosed with dementia I would travel the world as much as possible before it became impossible for me to do so.”
Is there anything you would you do differently if you could do it all over again?
“As with all things in life, more money could have improved my father’s situation. He had no savings which meant my mother couldn’t employ carers to give herself a break.”
More about Dominic:
Dominic Bliss is a London-based journalist who writes on a wide range of topics for national newspapers and magazines, including National Geographic, The Telegraph, Financial Times, GQ, and Men’s Health. He also specialises in ghost writing autobiographies. Over his 25-year career, Dominic has interviewed world leaders, athletes, explorers, and entertainers. His work has taken him on countless adventures, from downhill mountain bike racing in the Alps and climbing in the Dolomites to hiking the volcanoes of the Massif Central, cooking with Michelin-starred chefs, and surfing in Biarritz.
