Some daughters do have 'em...

On the way to hospital today my mother and I stopped at a printing shop so I could have some photos enlarged. It was a lovely bright autumn day that was surprisingly warm and so the shop door was wedged open. She sat in the waiting area beside the open door as I went about my business; this took about twenty minutes. After I paid for my purchases and invited my mother to leave she began what can only be described as a Marcel Marceau impersonation – feeling for glass that was not there and sticking her foot out with less confidence than Neil Armstrong. I offered a gentle push to make up her mind and an unladylike yelp ensued as we landed on the level pavement outside. She recovered from the shock and explained that her eyes were not what they used to be (working perhaps?) and that she had difficulty seeing steps and had walked into glass before, I said that this was why Dad and I were nervous of her driving anywhere, but of course came the reply “They're not that bad...”

Marcel Marceau was at least pretending.


Following on from the printing shop I dropped Mum at the hospital, non psychiatric, for her appointment. She told me afterwards that after her consultation with the Rheumatologist, she was re-entering the office after dressing and her consultant was talking, so not wishing to be rude and eavesdrop on the phone conversation, my mother politely turned her back to inspect the certificates on the wall. After a few moments the consultant asked her “Are you listening to me?”...

It’s never dull.