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Lucid thoughts of an Nonagenarian
by Ian Curtress

Let me say at the beginning, real old age has nothing going for it, certainly not if one retains most of one’s marbles.
Putting two legs in one trouser leg may be hilarious on stage but when it is brought about by the combined actions of uncooperative joints and indifferent balance, the humour is lost.
Shirt button holes intentionally made fractionally smaller than the buttons to allow the passing of a considerable part of the morning in dubious dexterous activity.
Then the joy of trying to reach one feet. They are down there I know because that’s where your socks fit.
Socks infirmly grasped in thumbs and fingers but feet moving further and further away. If you carefully bend your neck you can watch them going.
B. mindedness is a great asset and a last resort which often works, as on this occasion and we are ready for the slipper shoe horn event.
Just how do the manufacturers achieve the top of the heel to collapse after two or three weeks use.
In spite of amazing ability with a long handled shoe horn, the moment slipper detects heel it’s foundations fail.
Perhaps it’s to keep us occupied between our frequent little trips, known as the Eastbourne Effect.
If you have made it until eleven o’clock you are prepared for coffee.
Why do they call it Instant? I’m lucky if I am drinking it in thirty minutes, and that’s with giving up the Chocolate Suggestive.
At least one doesn’t have to get outdoor clothes on, as those days are gone. I’m reminded of my Bus Pass days. This will strike a cord.
If you found yourself the only one at the bus stop, the drivers eagle eyes will detect you and know you will take a while entering his bus. He will look the other way as he carries on. The drivers used to call this practice The Bus Pass.
If you did make it on and survived the pushchair across the front seat you endured twenty minutes of Little Tommy running up and down playing robot wars.
The reason for your journey was inevitably your entertainment of the week. The outpatients visit!
Now I remember the time when human beings used to welcome you checking in, (after not finding you on the list for fifteen minutes) but now you play space invaders with a robot who asks you for a complete CV except for birth marks.
At least from my experience the medics are “old school” understanding, overworked and not appreciated.
But being an Nonagenarian is not all bad. You have been granted longer to see you family grow and achieve. Longer to receive their love and affection.
For which I am eternally grateful.