by David Gower
builder's tea
In the late 1920’s Granny was not Granny but a widow who had walked with
her only child from the Welsh valleys to London in search of work. They had
slept in ditches and hedgerows and on Guy Fawkes night they arrived. The child’s
first memory of London was seeing fireworks light up the sky above the city.
Fast forward 65 years to find her child had fathered a son and
in the way of theses things created a Granny. She was widowed after a second marriage,
living in a small town, no longer owning a car and beginning to worry those
close to her with signs of self neglect.
Mouldy bread, little fresh food in the cupboard, front door unlocked and
lights – and gas – left on into the night. Granny always puzzled how anyone
knew she was Welsh but, of course, she thought only other people had accents.
The scene is Granny’s living room. The grandson is on his
weekly visit which includes an attempt to tidy up and taking Granny to the
shops to buy what seemed to be her basic diet. A loaf of bread, a pack of
cheese and a bottle of Scotch!
Grandson; You know we
are worried about you.
Granny I know you
are dear, but it is a long way for you to come and I am perfectly all right. It
is nice to see you but you have your own life to lead. Let me give you some
advice, never get old. You ache, struggle to get up the stairs and sleep in
this bloody chair. I can’t hear the telly and if I could they would only be
talking nonsense. Don’t get old my love.
Grandson Would you think
about moving into a retirement home? People around you, regular food and staff
on call if you fall? There is one only a couple of miles away.
Granny What would I
do there? I know you mean well….
Grandson Here is my
suggestion. Try a weekend there and if you like it you could stay. If you do
not like it then you come back. Honest Injun, it would be whatever you say but
at least try it out.
Some days later.
The scene is the Evening Dusk retirement home set in its own
grounds along a lengthy drive about two miles from Granny’s house. Matron’s
Office and three people are drinking tea.
Matron I do hope our
little tour was helpful. You are welcome to spend the weekend and let us know your
decision on Monday.
Granny It is very
nice dear. Very interesting to look round.
Grandson You have your
bag, I will be back on Monday and whatever you decide if fine. I just want you
to try it out.
Granny I know dear.
Off you go, I will have another cup of that tea and a biscuit please Matron.
Goodbyes are exchanged and Grandson leaves for home – an hour
distant. At least the home did not have that acrid smell that hits the nostrils
immediately in some residential units.
The answering machine flashed when the Grandson got home. A
message from the residential home. Granny was missing and could he come back
right away?
Another drive but this time direct to Granny’s house. The door
was unlocked and Granny sat in front of the telly.
Grandson There you are.
I promised I would collect you if you were unhappy. The home think you have
wandered off.
Granny It was full
of old people. They looked so dull and boring. I finished my tea and biscuit
after you left. She left me chatting to some woman but as soon as I could I
picked up my bag.
Grandson But, how did
you get home along that driveway and there are no buses?
Granny There were
some workmen in the grounds. They thought I was confused but I told them that
my friend had died and I had collected her bag. They gave me a lift in their
van. Such nice men.
Granny stayed in the house and succumbed some months later to
a heart attack but to the end she proved her independence. She would not have
had it any other way.
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