Introduction
Social events for care partners and people living with dementia are often intended to provide respite, connection, and a sense of normality. Attending a local care partners’ curry night offered an opportunity to observe how such events unfold in practice and what they reveal about the realities of living with dementia and providing care.
While the evening included moments of joy and connection, it also highlighted the complex ways that the sensory environment, caregiving dynamics, and social expectations shape participation.
On a Friday evening in early spring, I attended a curry night run by a charity that provides support to unpaid carers in the local area. Tickets had been arranged in advance by one of the leaders of a dementia support group for care partners, who often organises social outings for members.
When I arrived at 6pm the restaurant was still setting up, and people gradually began to drift in from our group. The group included several care partners, including some who had cared for a partner in the past, as well as people living with dementia and a group leader. Many people had shared lifts to the event which added to the sense of the group looking out for each other. At first we sat in the reception area waiting for the event to begin. It was a little chilly and, as the minutes stretched into nearly an hour, people were beginning to get hungry. Despite the delay, the mood was mostly positive. Many people had bought drinks from the bar and there was a sense that this was a special – and perhaps some, rare – evening out. Some of the seating in the reception area was very low, making it difficult for people with mobility issues to sit down or stand up comfortably. One of the lady’s had to sit on the seat of her stroller as she could not get into the low chairs.
Several of the women complimented each other’s outfits. One proudly explained that she had bought a new outfit earlier that day. Many people had clearly made an effort for the occasion, with smart jackets, jewellery, and even an elegant fur coat making an appearance.
Looking out for one another
One man living with dementia, Mark (pseudonym), attended on his own because his partner, who usually supports him, had been to hospital for a medical procedure earlier that day.
While we were waiting, he needed to take insulin before eating. After briefly misplacing his insulin pen in the toilet, another member of the group helped him find it. He administered his insulin himself in the reception area while we were still waiting for dinner.
This created some anxiety among the group, as people were worried his blood sugar might drop before the food arrived. One of the care partners asked the bar staff if they could provide a couple of biscuits for him, which they kindly did. The situation settled quickly once he had something to eat.
It was one of many small moments during the evening where people quietly looked out for one another.
A bigger event than expected
What I had imagined would be a small informal dinner turned out to be a much larger event. The restaurant was hosting a full care partners’ evening with close to a hundred attendees.
There was also entertainment scheduled, a tribute performance, which meant the evening had more of a party atmosphere than expected.
Unfortunately, the volume of the music created difficulties for some members of our group. It was so loud that conversation became difficult, even with the person sitting next to you.
One care partner in particular found the music extremely distressing. It was not just the volume but the vibration of the sound that was upsetting. Although earplugs were offered, they did not help and she eventually had to sit outside in the reception area for much of the evening, during this time others from the group went out to keep her company or check on her.
The group leader who had organised our group’s attendance was clearly concerned that the evening was not as comfortable for everyone as he had hoped, particularly as he had hoped the outing would give everyone a relaxing evening where they could enjoy themselves.
Dinner and moments of joy
While we were waiting to go into the main restaurant, one of the men living with dementia repeatedly picked up the drinks menu on the table and read through it, even though the meal was a set menu. Each time someone gently reminded him that it wasn’t the food menu, but he seemed perfectly content simply looking through it.
Once dinner arrived, the atmosphere improved somewhat. The meal was served as a set menu, which worked well for some of the attendees living with dementia because it removed the need to make choices.
There was also a large raffle with many prizes. One of the men living with dementia bought raffle tickets using a few pounds he had in his pocket and later won an electric blanket, much to his delight and surprise.
The table became noticeably more cheerful at that point as several people won prizes and there was a shared sense of fun brought about by anticipation and the potential for good fortune.
Music, dancing and mixed experiences
When the music resumed after dinner, the volume again became challenging for some people at our table, although many others in the room appeared to be enjoying the performance.
At one point a well-known song played and I encouraged one of the men living with dementia in our group to join in with the dance movements. He laughed and enthusiastically joined in, which prompted smiles from others at the table. Some people even recorded the moment, likely to share later with his partner. It was a small but joyful moment.
Conversations and shared memories
Throughout the evening there were many quieter conversations taking place. People spoke about a recently deceased member of the group, remembering him warmly. Others discussed updates about family members and the challenges of caring. Later in the evening, when the adult son of one attendee arrived to take him home, some people at the table tried to help orient him to who had arrived. Although it was meant in a light-hearted way, it highlighted how moments of confusion can sometimes become awkward in social settings.
Conversations during the evening also highlighted the increasing challenges families often face as dementia progresses. Several people spoke about the difficulty of arranging additional support and the uncertainty around where to begin when trying to navigate care services. This served as a reminder of how complex accessing support can be for families.
The importance of simple connection
I spent some of the evening talking with one of the people living with dementia in the group. Sometimes interactions with him during group activities are quite brief, but sitting together for several hours allowed a deeper conversation to develop.
We talked about his hobbies, music, and interests. With a little prompting and repetition, he became more animated.
When I asked what he had enjoyed most about the evening, he replied simply: “Talking.” It was a reminder that, even at a large, organised event, the most meaningful moments can sometimes come from simple one-to-one connection.
Reflecting on the evening
Looking back on the evening, it showed both how valuable these kinds of events can be and how easily small things can make them harder for some people to enjoy.
One of the most notable aspects was how much people looked out for each other. When one attendee went to the toilet, several people kept an eye on the door to ensure he returned safely. At one point he came back into the room unsure where he had been sitting. Rather than drawing attention to the mistake, we simply moved his drink and dessert to the new seat he had chosen: Small adjustments like this helped preserve dignity and avoid embarrassment. When someone needed help, others stepped in straight away, whether that was finding biscuits when someone needed to eat after taking insulin, keeping an eye out when someone went to the toilet, or quietly helping someone who had forgotten where they were sitting. These were small actions, but they showed how caring and supportive the group was.
The evening also demonstrated how important the sensory environment can be. The music and entertainment created a lively atmosphere for many people, but for some in our group it was simply too loud. One person had to sit outside for most of the evening because the sound was overwhelming. It was a reminder that what feels fun and energetic for some people can be stressful or uncomfortable for others, especially for people living with dementia or those who are already tired from caring.
At the same time, there were moments of real connection. Sitting and talking one-to-one with someone living with dementia led to a much longer and warmer conversation than I had experienced before. When asked what he had enjoyed most about the evening, he said simply that he enjoyed the conversation. That moment really stayed with me.
The evening also showed how many families are still unsure where to turn for help as dementia progresses. One family member spoke about how difficult things were becoming at home but admitted they did not know where to start in finding more support.
Overall, the evening felt a little like our group was part of a much bigger party that had not quite been designed with them in mind. But within that, there were still many moments of kindness, laughter and connection and those were the moments seemed to matter the most.
Experiences like this highlight why it is important to listen carefully to the everyday experiences of people living with dementia and their care partners. Small details, such as noise levels, waiting times, and opportunities for conversation, can make a significant difference to whether social events feel welcoming or overwhelming. Through ENACT, we aim to centre these lived experiences so that services and community activities better reflect what people actually need.