You would need to be nearly as old as I am - than whom only Methusalah is older - or, sadly, afflicted with arthritis, or a similar affliction, to be obliged, as I am, to get up half an hour earlier than would appear necessary on paper in order to have time to open things up. Occasionally, I fancy some nursery food such as cheese on toast. For this treat I buy ready sliced Dutch cheese which fits nicely on top of a square piece of bread. However, labelled as it is with " peel here", I have to allow a good ten minutes to coax the relevant corner out of its recalcitrance and oblige me with access to a slice of its contents. Next, there is the argument with the jar of instant coffee. (I know, I know, how decadent can one sink). Myself, I carefully just replace the top on the jar, remembering to pick it up by its body next time or be prepared to use it from off the work-surface or the floor. There is someone who helps me with house keeping. This diligent lady replaces the top as it should be, down firmly and sealed to keep the flavour, and the grains, securely inside. On days when this has happened I drink jasmine tea which I keep hidden so that it escapes the sort of closure with which I can no longer cope.
I have progressed in to the 21st century sufficiently to order things 'on-line' and have them arrive by post or deliverer: much painful leg-work thus avoided. However, I have to wait for someone else to be available to open the d..n thing up. I have been given a gadget which unscrews bottle tops. This is great while I am at home but it is too heavy to carry around so I have had to use Nature's openers, my teeth, when I am out. I assure you, this is not a good look on a lady of a certain age, nor, indeed, on a 'Lady' of any age. But the Gods have been good. By chance, I discovered a really small device, made by THE French kitchen company which is transportable and Dentist-proof. I have one in my hand-bag and one in the carrier which is kept ready to take to the voluntary job site. Hearing aids take batteries which are so miniscule they are barely visible to the naked eye. New ones have a tiny label stuck to them. At least ten minutes have to be allowed to peel this off. Fortunately, while the aids are not in place, I can't hear myself cursing as I pinch my ancient thumb and first finger together to get the label off. This time I can't use teeth. The batteries are singularly indigestible. The famous and ubiquitous everyone's favourite store sells, I am told, delicious soup. I have to take this as reputed. I can't open the containers myself. Apparently, you pull back a strip then lever. Forget it. I can neither pull nor lever. I can't even remember how many pairs of scissors I have all over my house and kitchen knives used to prise and poke rather than slice and scrape. By the time I have the protective cover off a sticking plaster, the bleeding has stopped. Please don't put my shopping in the boot of my car. I don't have the magic words to open it when I get home. But you would be surprised how many things are open-friendly. The front door, for instance: the door to fresh air and a certain freedom. All my cosmetics are openable, simply because I don't close them properly. The yes-I-can list is almost as long as the no-I-can't list, as I think about it. If only "peel here" would respond like "open Sesame" life would be almost perfect. Bore da.