My mum wasn’t often right about things. As a teenager, because I am not very tall and wore 6 inch heels, she used to say, ‘You’ll regret that when you get older’. I think now, she spoke with experience! In common with a lot of older women, my feet are bad!
The ‘big shoes’ worn by the elderly, looking like aircraft carriers… They fasten with Velcro strip, that make a ripping noise when you open them but make it easier for the fumbling fingers to fasten.
It is such a contrast high heels v big shoes. Her young life v her old life. The highlight of her day, looking out of the window, seeing commuters rushing for their trains, seeing children on their way to school schools, young mum’s going shopping. Morning rush over, its time for a cup of tea and turning the television on. She loves the daytime programmes, the presenters voices the only voices she hears on most days. The presenters and the programmes have become her family.
Lunchtime comes, she makes another drink, a cup-a-soup to go with her cheese sandwich, it has to be cheese, that is all that is in her fridge, until her daughter comes at the weekend to fill the fridge up again.
After her lunch, being warm and comfortable inside, she drifts into sleep. The T.V., still playing.
Noise of children coming home wakes her, she stirs herself to go to the window, that little girl down the street always waves, ‘she’s coming’, the child is dancing alongside her mother, they both wave, the old lady smiles and waves. The excitement over, its tea and biscuit time. There are not many biscuits left, she finds two broken halves.
After tea break, she eases off the bulky shoes, finds her slippers and nightwear, time for her shower. The ‘warm rain’ eases her stiff bones. Drying herself briskly is the only exercise in her day, pulling her nightgown over her head, then her dressing is tied round the old and bulky body. Her feet semi dried, do not slip easily into her slippers, making her huff and puff.
She heads into the kitchen to make her evening meal, her daughter has put ready meals in her freezer, today she selects chicken casserole with dumplings, while that goes round in the microwave, she makes some tea. She eats her meal as she watches the teatime News, its that nice Fiona Bruce reading it today, its not good news, it never is.
Her evening stretches before her, closing the curtains, she shuts out the night. Its ‘telly land time’. Nine o clock sees her making hot chocolate to make her sleepy. Bedtime, another day over.