Being a wheelchair driver when they let me out, I had to get used to it. Driving is no problem, and I even have to be careful that I do not exceed the speed limit on the paths. In this lovely summer weather I often like to go for a tour in the afternoon. This afternoon I saw something new on the exit to the path: two wooden figures. They both seemed to be pointing in a certain direction. Perhaps someone thinks I might get lost.
Being a golden oldie in this day and age is not simple especially as it seems that things are being changed constantly. Now and again they let me drive a car. My movement problems are mainly to do with the left side of my body, My neurologist found that as we have an automatic car, I do not need my left foot, so there is no problem with driving. I drive to get from A to B and like the plain and simple routes I take because I know them. One morning you find that your path has a large arrow sign showing that the route has been changed and road workers and their many machines have moved in. It is a temporary thing, but when they are finished you discover you have a one way street, where there used to be two directions, and there is probably a roundabout in the middle to confuse it all the more.
Mr. Swiss says I should drive more, I tell him forget it. Every day you have a different route to take.
My dad was flummoxed by a lot of things. He belonged to the cash in hand generation and knew nothing else. If you had debts, you paid in cash and so he continued. His wages as a factory worker were always paid weekly. He got his money in pound notes and small change in an envelope. He never even used a wallet for the money. It was all in the trouser pockets. When he reached his senior years, he was still paying in cash. I was in Switzerland and he was in London, so dealing with his financial stuff was even more complicated. It would have been so easy if he had a bank account. I spoke to him about it and he looked at me if I was mad. “I don’t want a bank account” were his final words. Somehow I got his finances organised with his one time building society account which had been converted into a savings account. It was complicated, but we had to avoid flummoxing dad.
And now I am a senior citizen and have to keep up with new types of mobile phones, new computers with the new built in security systems. Completing a Swiss tax form is a master work, everyone in this country seems to be his own accountant. Even Mr. Swiss has now given the job to a finance guy, because it is getting too complicated. At least Mr. Swiss knows what the finance guy needs from us, I have not got a clue.
Life is made to flummox us today. Why do it simple, when you can do it complicated.