Showing posts with label Old age. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Old age. Show all posts
Monday, April 06, 2009
Anarchy! Protest!Time for a nap!
Silversprite up in the Hebrides has a lovely picture of the G20 protests which you can see here. As an OAP I can relate to it absolutely....
Thursday, March 19, 2009
OAP Larceny
In these days of PCness, and non- fur wearing, I'm sure the following cannot even be contemplated without shudders running down your back, dear reader.
This morning, on the John and Shaz show on Smooth Radio, the question was asked what horror stories did we, the listeners,have to do with weddings.
There were the usual brides not turning up,even a groom not turning up, but these are almost perennial favourites.
I was reminded of the occasion when my mother, Old Queen Lear, manged to embarrass me even as a grown up, having done it mightily when I was a child. I'm sure your own parents embarrassed you too when you were younger.
We were at a wedding that required full fig, and as a result I was wearing full morning rig. Mrs. Lear ( can't quite remember what she was wearing, but would certainly have been totally a la mode) was dressed to the nines, and Old Queen Lear had on her fur coat.
Most of the older ladies present also had their fur coats getting an airing.There was a deal of "My skins are all female of course, sooo much softer," and a general stroking of pelts. I seem to recall the cat we had at the time was particularly fond of lying on mink.
Anyway, as we had a long drive back, we left relatively early, and that was fine.
Until next day I got a phone call from Northern Constabulary.
" Is that Mr. Lear? Do you have a Queen Lear with you?"
Of course I did. " Could you just confirm she will be there for the next half hour?"
My immediate reaction was to put her on the first flight out, but within the allotted time, our local village copper appeared.
Niceties were exchanged, and then he asked to see the coat.
Queen Lear was delighted to show him her super soft mink coat.
Now Queen Lear suffered from failing eyesight, and being a vain old bird never wore her glasses in company. There had been a spectacular failure.
" How do you know this is your coat?" asked the Bobby.
" It's got my initials inside," said my mother, opening the coat and showing the silken embroidered letters.
Except they weren't QL. They were completely different.
Fortunately, those were the days when policemen had both discretion and commonsense. He took the offending coat away and asked us to call the next day to collect the correct one.
As you can imagine, my mother's face was more than red.
This morning, on the John and Shaz show on Smooth Radio, the question was asked what horror stories did we, the listeners,have to do with weddings.
There were the usual brides not turning up,even a groom not turning up, but these are almost perennial favourites.
I was reminded of the occasion when my mother, Old Queen Lear, manged to embarrass me even as a grown up, having done it mightily when I was a child. I'm sure your own parents embarrassed you too when you were younger.
We were at a wedding that required full fig, and as a result I was wearing full morning rig. Mrs. Lear ( can't quite remember what she was wearing, but would certainly have been totally a la mode) was dressed to the nines, and Old Queen Lear had on her fur coat.
Most of the older ladies present also had their fur coats getting an airing.There was a deal of "My skins are all female of course, sooo much softer," and a general stroking of pelts. I seem to recall the cat we had at the time was particularly fond of lying on mink.
Anyway, as we had a long drive back, we left relatively early, and that was fine.
Until next day I got a phone call from Northern Constabulary.
" Is that Mr. Lear? Do you have a Queen Lear with you?"
Of course I did. " Could you just confirm she will be there for the next half hour?"
My immediate reaction was to put her on the first flight out, but within the allotted time, our local village copper appeared.
Niceties were exchanged, and then he asked to see the coat.
Queen Lear was delighted to show him her super soft mink coat.
Now Queen Lear suffered from failing eyesight, and being a vain old bird never wore her glasses in company. There had been a spectacular failure.
" How do you know this is your coat?" asked the Bobby.
" It's got my initials inside," said my mother, opening the coat and showing the silken embroidered letters.
Except they weren't QL. They were completely different.
Fortunately, those were the days when policemen had both discretion and commonsense. He took the offending coat away and asked us to call the next day to collect the correct one.
As you can imagine, my mother's face was more than red.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
NOT stoopid
Chris Dillow has a nice piece on old people being stoopider ( I wrote on this recently).
I'm not at all convinced this is true. Older people tend to " reason" more about things, whilst younger ones tend to " go for it" which I'm sure has an effect. It's well known that one's first instinct tends to be right more often than not.
I'm more convinced by the thought that most of the time we older ones just can't be bothered - and it's quite handy to appear less able to lull others into a sense of false security.....
I'm not at all convinced this is true. Older people tend to " reason" more about things, whilst younger ones tend to " go for it" which I'm sure has an effect. It's well known that one's first instinct tends to be right more often than not.
I'm more convinced by the thought that most of the time we older ones just can't be bothered - and it's quite handy to appear less able to lull others into a sense of false security.....
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Teaching Granny to suck eggs.
As I get older I am continually torn by two opposing thought processes. One says I am older, therefore deafer, stupider,slower, more of a liability, and I admit I play on that sometimes.
The other side says I am in full possession of my faculties and capable of trouncing any of these young whippersnappers - obviously not physically, but definitely mentally or in guile.
So I'm particularly pleased when a frail old granny knocks seven bells out of some youth - whose invariable response is " Not fair!" and they run away because our youth in general are cowards ( OK its a sweeping statement but it's meant to be.)
And it's why I always have a chuckle at the Herald Diary as they stick very definitely to the " old folk are stoopid line" - and nothing could be further from the truth.
Today's gem was that a young girl was visiting her granny in Glasgow, and pulled out her laptop - presumably to see if her Facebook entry confirmed she existed.
Granny grabbed the laptop and shook it violently, and said " Draw something nice dear. I remember your mother was very good at it when she was a child"
Granny thought it was an Etch-a-Sketch.
The other side says I am in full possession of my faculties and capable of trouncing any of these young whippersnappers - obviously not physically, but definitely mentally or in guile.
So I'm particularly pleased when a frail old granny knocks seven bells out of some youth - whose invariable response is " Not fair!" and they run away because our youth in general are cowards ( OK its a sweeping statement but it's meant to be.)
And it's why I always have a chuckle at the Herald Diary as they stick very definitely to the " old folk are stoopid line" - and nothing could be further from the truth.
Today's gem was that a young girl was visiting her granny in Glasgow, and pulled out her laptop - presumably to see if her Facebook entry confirmed she existed.
Granny grabbed the laptop and shook it violently, and said " Draw something nice dear. I remember your mother was very good at it when she was a child"
Granny thought it was an Etch-a-Sketch.
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