My days of glitter have long gone – as mum would say “mutton dressed up as lamb”, but it is the inside values that count, so they say. The only thing I found at home that had a little bit of glitter, that has worn off in time, was this mask from Venice. I do not even remember who gave it to me, I only know I did not buy it. The glitter was applied with glue and the eyes are empty. Looks more like someting from a horror show, so forget the glitter.
I get my glitter from the world around me. Take a walk along the river and the sun is shining, the glitter is in every ripple on the surface of the water. It is only there for the moment when the sun shines, but on a moonlit night, you still get your moonlight glitter. Perhaps you see the glitter in someone’s eyes, a twinkle, a moment of recognition. My dad became more than a golden oldie, he was more than gold, platinum you could say, but his glitter was still there. When I arrived on my annual visit to London, there was still a glitter in his hug.
I was with him on his 100th birthday. He was never a monarchist. Growing up in a working class environment, he had no interest for the royals, because he realised they had no interest in him. As long as he paid his taxes and kept out of trouble, no-one noticed he was there, until 24th September 2015 when the telegramme arrived.
On that day he had that glitter again. His word were “I don’t want no telegramme from the queen” (cockney english – double negative), but he got one. He was visited by a lady organised from the extra care home where he was living and particulars were noted. The queen does not do it on her own, because she cannot know when each of her subjects reaches the age of 100, but dad receved his birthday card from the queen. For someone that did not want a birthday telegramme from the queen of GB, he was quite chuffed, delighted. The card was resting on his table, but he could not resist taking it in his hands and reading her greetings every five minutes, the glitter was still there. Dad passed away in June last year, but the memory of the glitter in his eyes when he held the card remains.
I am now on the way to my golden oldie glitter like dad. I will not get a card from the queen being an ex pat, but I can always look at dad’s card and remember his glitter. It is not all gold that glitters, but the memories have more value than any gold.