Harry
Our friend Harry fell and broke his collarbone. He was in hospital for a couple of months. Now, at 93, he can no longer look after himself, so they’ve put him into a nursing home.
I went with a couple of friends to visit him. It seems a nice home. I was impressed with the staff. They all seemed so kind and caring.
When we arrived he was sound asleep, strapped into a wheelchair with his head flopped over. The nurse shook him awake and wheeled him out into the dining room so we could all sit and talk to him. “Talk” is not quite the right word. He didn’t have his hearing aid – they said it was away being repaired. Not that he hears much with it, anyway! I don’t think he heard much of what we said (or shouted.) And I don’t know what he said. His Parkinsons Disease makes him hard to understand at anytime, but he didn’t have his bottom teeth in!
I don’t know if Harry enjoyed our visit. I know I would hate being rudely wakened from a deep sleep and then have to sit while 3 crazy women shouted at me. At least he knows we cared enough to visit him, but next time I think I’ll go when they are having one of their concerts or sing-along mornings. It would be much easier to just keep him company without trying to talk. And I’ll certainly ring ahead to let them know we are coming so he can have his teeth in! Meanwhile, I think I’ll write him a letter.
Mrs White did it.
Our Friendship Club met last week - without Harry. We’ve always played Skipbo, because that’s the only game Harry could play. There were only 5 of us this time, and I thought it would be a good opportunity to do something different.
So I introduced them to Cluedo. I used to enjoy playing it with the kids many years ago. It would be quick and easy to learn, I thought.
Wrong.
Maybe I didn’t explain it properly. It certainly didn’t help, when after the first round, I realised I hadn’t put 3 cards in the murder envelope, and we had to start all over again. You can’t solve a murder that hasn’t been committed, can you?
The game dragged on and on. No one seemed to know what they were doing. Finally, about an hour past our usual finishing time, I knew Mrs White had done it with the revolver – was it in the library? They all said they didn’t have the library. So I made a triumphant accusation. “Mrs White, with the revolver, in the library!”
I looked at the cards in the envelope. She’d done it in the lounge!
“Well, someone must have the library,” I said.
“Oh, I’ve got the library,” said someone. “Would it have made a difference if I’d said I had it?”
Next time, we’re playing Skipbo!
A complete set
The fruit shop down the road sells the most delicious sweet pineapples, which are grown locally. The other day I peeled and sliced one and took half of it to my elderly neighbour who loves them as much as I do.
“I don’t want the dish back,” I told her. “Its just an odd one that someone brought for our jumble sale.”
My neighbour looked at the dish in astonishment. “That’s the missing dish from my dinner set!” she exclaimed. “I’ve been trying for years to get it replaced! Where did it come from?”
I told her the name of the woman who had given it to me. “She used to be my cleaning lady!” said my neighbour.
We don’t know if it was a coincidence – it could have been from another set, or if my neighbour had at sometime given her cleaning lady something to take home on a dish and it hadn’t been returned.
But it doesn’t matter. She’s thrilled to have her dinner set complete again.
My roll in life
“I really don’t know how they would manage without me,” I said to my friend as we washed our hands. “I had to change the toilet roll again. Every time I come in here I arrive just as the toilet paper runs out. No matter where I go, I arrive at the end of a toilet roll. I must have been put here on earth just to change toilet rolls!”
There’s usually quite a queue waiting at the church toilet after the morning service, but this time we were alone – or so I thought. But there must have been someone in the other cubicle.
The following Sunday, when I was in the toilet, I heard two women talking in the wash area on the other side of the door. “It was so funny last week,” one of them said. “Some woman was going on about how she always has to change the toilet roll….”
I couldn’t stay in there all day, so I emerged sheepishly, careful not to say anything in case they recognised my voice!
