A wrinkly responsibility
Oh, dear. The wrinklies are now settled back in the north of England and already causing havoc. I spoke to my Mum yesterday and was aghast at the tale she told me – but knowing my Mum, I also knew it was true and probably made to sound less than the event had really been.
Are you ready? Okay, on Monday afternoon, Mum and Jim were enjoying a few (?) whiskies, G nTs and chats in the garden of their dear friends, who shall be called Fred and Barbara, to protect their dignity. Now Fred, two years oheader=A wrinkly responsibility, Oh, dear. The wrinklies are now settled back in the north of England and already causing havoc. I spoke to my Mum yesterday and was aghast at the tale she told me – but knowivery well known in her home town, is as sharp as a pin but as fragile as a feather – a condition she shares with my poor, still young mum….
Barbara, the hostess decided to get out of her garden chair to get some food, lost her balance, fell onto my Mum, bringing her chair with her – and the combined weight of chair and lady, took my Mum and her chair, tumbling to the ground…..and there the ladies stayed in a heap of chair, giggles, lack of resource to stand up : mainly physically induced but probably not helped by the drinks.
The men, meanwhile, couldn’t remember if this was a normal practise for ladies and whether to leave them or not. The ladies begged help but neither man could remember why or how. The only memory Fred has was how to dial 999 – which he duly did and police and paramedics arrived. (The latter came as they know the house and the physical state of the residents).
When they had composed themselves from laughing, the paramedics took Barbara to bed and the police then tried to arrest my Mum who was heading into her car, with a view of driving she and Jim home. Thankfully, Mum realised these young men were not joking – and arranged a lift home instead………..
I’m torn between laughing, crying, thanking god that the wrinklies are not still in Cyprus and therefore I cannot do anything to help them – or jumping on a plane and bringing them back. Trouble is, I’d get to UK, Jim wouldn’t know who I was and why I was there and Mum would gloss over the whole thing and tell me not to fuss!
Ah well, there is always another day …….