Are you really? The statues are the seven ages of man in one of our local garden centres, but I am only showing the last three stages. Let us for get the others, they no longer apply. What is age, just a number, but one day the numbers have a different meaning. The first 50 years are not bad. You can still move, and even remember the names of people that you see now and again on the street.
Today it is different.
“Hello Mrs. Angloswiss.”
“Hello vnskdjfsdfolsjfkls murmer murmer” (hoping that he or her does not realise that you no longer remember their name. It was not so long ago, after all I worked with them for at least 10 years if not more, I would see them every day in the office. We would exchange information about our families, how we were feeling, what we were doing. How comes I forgot it all: at least there was recognition on my side.
And then the shopping lists which you now have to write on your phone. No good using handwriting, because you cannot read it by the time you get to the shop. Mr. Swiss also writes on the phone. Thank goodness for modern day techology. We golden oldies would be lost without it. What I write he sees and what he alters or adds I get as well. You then see two golden oldies with their mobile phones in their hands. They are not calling anyone, but eliminating the stuff on the list that you already have in the trolley. Of course when you arrive home you have everything, or do you? Neither of you remembered to write “bread”. Of course not, you always remember bread. 🙂 Luckily you have a bread in the freezer ready for such emergencies in case you might forget.
Back to the photo. I would say that we are both the third on the right. Not that we need a support at home. We can hold onto a wall, a door, a cupboard, a table, or sink into a chair. Mr. Swiss now has back problems combined with painful walking movements. We arrive at the supermarket and he leaves me to rest a while on a bench whilst I support myself with the trolley and begin to work through the list. After some time he joins me. If you see the middle picture, it is me with my walking stick. It has become my companion, never go anywhere without it.
On the other hand Mr. Swiss loves jazz, not too modern, but definitely not traditional. I would class it as mainstream. I am also partial to it, although I belong more to the Beatles and Stones generation: even a little bit of hard rock which does no damage, just perhaps to the ears. We like to move with the times, but the times do not always move with us.
Age gets us all eventually. I hear about these young at heart that still go on trips to other countries at the age of 80, or take part in all sorts of active sports. Did I see a 106 year old complete a race somewhere in facebook? Great, I am glad if I can walk to the neighbour’s house without having to rest on the way. Must be doing something wrong.
And now I am approaching the last figure on the left with the pig. Why fool yourself, it will happen. I remember my dad dancing at every opportunity if there was a family get together. My last memories were of an elderly man pushing a zimmer frame in his extra care appartment.
Where are the days gone when I had four kids at home, cooking meals for all, organising life and falling into bed in the evening with exhaustion. I am now exhausted when I leave the bed in the morning. Today after lunch I had my midday sleep. I awoke, but decided hugging the bed was great, and so I stayed and fell asleep again.
At least the guy in the last photo has a laugh on his face, and so do I now and again.
Even I was young once – Trafalgar Square, London, feeding the pigeons.