A dreaded lurgie has affected the last few days. From time to time flu-like symptoms turn up and spoil my life while they go on. Sometimes the symptoms turn in to a cold. Mostly they just keep me aching and shutting me down. At my age, I'm not sure how many days I can afford to take off in this, or any, situation. Every day has to be precious and I am not sufficiently disciplined to do something constructive so as not to 'waste' them. But I have had some fun thinking about more of the compromises that smooth the path of the no-longer-young. Pragmatically, there are gadgets. I was given a sort of grab handle thing. You place it over the top of a bottle or whatever needs to be twisted open, turn until it grips tightly then manouevre the handle to open up. It's too big for my handbag so passing youngsters still have to be asked to help when I am not at home. Washing delicates by hand has stopped. I find that there is a programme on the machine which is gentle enough, although I apologise to my departed Mother every time I consign the finest of my things to the machine. (Since you ask, I have a spin dryer so there is no need for wring and twist).Lately, I have noticed that I need to drop my cat's dishes from a bit of a height rather than stoop to place them on her tray. Yes, she has a tray and a mat over it to stop the dishes - yes, dishes, plural - from slipping. This is not something she is sanguine about since it is scarecly enlightening to see one's food take a little leap before more or less settling back in situ.
Cooking was one of my best things to do. Since the Guru moved on in to his grown-up life I have hardly cooked. I look at my range of cookery books and remember an entirely different woman who gave dinner parties and ate well, herself. This is unadulterated laziness and I am aware it can't be good for my health. More, I am one of those people who scorns the pre-cooked super-market food but ends up eating it. There is also 'take-away' or, better still, delivery. I am crafty and order as soon as delivery slots open so that I don't have to wait too long and the food is more or less hot enough from the first vans out of the restaurants.(Trucks, I suppose, if you are in Mountview California). I struggle with the technical, as you will have had rubbed in ad nauseam. Recently, being unable to source, locally, a certain kind of indexed note book I have been using for decades, I ordered one on- line. (Please say you are proud of me). The irony was staring me in the face. I ordered the book to re-do my address and telephone book which is hardly readable under the popular letters and, sadly, full of the no-longer-with-us. While I can order the book and this and that on-line, I will not countenance consigning my contacts to it! This is not a considered choice: it simply doesn't count as an option. The struggle to live in the 21st Century when I am so clearly footbound - handbound, hidebound? - in the 20th is rendering me schizophrenic. I need a new vacuum cleaner. There are offers. Trade in your old one for money off the new. The logistics defy me. Do I take the old one under my arm and swap there and then? (Don't be silly. I can't even carry it up the stairs) Would someone come to the house and effect the changeover? Shall I drag in to John Lewis and deal with it woman to salesperson or how does it work if I try to do it on-line? Bring out the brush and pan. Bore da