MARGARET Alford first realised something was wrong with her four years ago, when she began to struggle matching up her outfits.

Not long after this, she started to forget people's names.

"I just couldn't place people," said the grandmother from Kempsey.

"I had to talk to people and avoid using their names."

After some persuasion from her family, the 65-year-old visited her GP, and, following tests, she received the devastating news that she had Alzheimer's disease.

It was a terrible blow for Margaret and her devoted husband, Ted. Life had started to improve for the couple after Margaret had come through a series of life-threatening illnesses.

Factory worker Ted would soon be retiring, and the pair were hoping to enjoy life to the full after he finished work.

In one stroke, their plans were ruined. Margaret had to prepare herself for another battle against an incurable illness.

However, this is not a story full of doom and gloom: far from it.

Parts of the couple's tale are heart-breaking, but other elements are heart-warming and awe-inspiring. It's a story that everyone worried about getting the disease can learn from.

I was worried about meeting Margaret after she agreed to talk to me. I didn't know quite what to expect, and was concerned about upsetting her with tactless questions.

I had no need to worry. Margaret said she was very nervous about discussing her illness, but proceeded to talk eloquently and frankly about it for an hour and a half.

Needing no prompting, she talked about how she started to turn the cooker on and forget about it, or set it at the wrong temperature.

"One time I had to ring my daughter to ask what temperature I had to have the oven to cook pork chops," she said.

"I've always been a good cook, and it made me feel such a fool that I had to do that."

The courageous pensioner found her mental state deteriorating rapidly after she was diagnosed.

She had always enjoyed her own company, but she started to dislike being on her own. Her speech became jumbled up, and her voice would fade away in mid-sentence.

On certain days, Margaret would feel as though all her energy had been sapped from her.

"My writing has deteriorated and my spelling is awful," she admitted. "If you know the first two letters of a word, you can find it quite quickly, but if you don't, you can look through the dictionary until the cows come home."

However, this hasn't stopped her from writing prolifically. She has had several articles about Alzheimer's published in magazines, and she has written many poems.

These poignant and personal accounts include lines such as:

"Look at me, my mind's a mess,

In a few years' time I'll need help to dress."

Margaret is well aware of what the future is likely to hold for her. Other people in her position would have gone to pieces, but she is staying positive.

Throughout our conversation, she joked about her condition and the problems she has had.

"If you have a good attitude to it, it helps," she said.

"We always laugh about it - I make fun of my condition, and joke about the things I do."

Instead of going into denial, she has tackled Alzheimer's head-on. She has tried to find out as much as she can about the condition, and even helps people in the later stages of the illness at a day centre in Malvern.

She keeps herself busy, and the couple still go on holidays and frequent days out.

But one of the things that has upset Margaret most about having the illness is the effect it has had on people she knows.

"People didn't want to know about it when I first found out I had it," she said.

"They told me not to worry about it. I found some people wanted to get away from me.

"We were in a queue for the bus once, and someone we know said to Ted, 'How's Margaret?' while I was stood there.

"I felt like saying, 'Why don't you ask her?'"

In some ways, the situation has been harder for Ted to come to terms with than for her.

He struggled initially because there was not much support for the couple, and Ted had to watch helplessly as Margaret deteriorated.

"The worrying part is the uncertainty," he said.

"If I knew that in five years she would be wandering the streets and forgetting to put her clothes on, I could prepare for it, but every case is different.

"In some cases, people deteriorate very quickly in 12 months, while others can take 12 years. You can't really plan ahead."

Despite Margaret's sense of humour and positive nature, she can't help but worry about the future.

"You never know if a cure might come along," she said, hopefully. "But I just hope I pop my clogs before I get to the end.

"I wonder what I'm going to be like. I just want to keep my dignity, and keep control of my life as long as I can."