elderly – The Atypical Political

As we here in the UK kick off our second indefinite term of social deprivation, I send my thoughts to the innocents cruelly imprisoned in their empty homes.

I met a dear old lady, out like everyone else to mark the last day of “non-essential” businesses being open. She sat next to us in the pub, with her glass of water, perusing the menu and looking around with big glossy eyes. She caught my eye and smiled. “That’s it then, our last night out,” she said.

“Yeah, it’s madness. Just as perfect pub season is coming up. Mulled wine, fireplaces, cozy warm chit chat, and it’s gone just like that,” I said forlornly with a snap of the fingers.

“I love eating out,” she added innocently. “It’s getting too cold to do gardening. Then again, I’m getting too old to do gardening. I’m eighty-three.”