Could this be my last post?
Just (almost) the perfect day.
Thank God for the Internet. Quick - spread this message now. I might be in the care of my local authority tomorrow. You see yesterday THE GREAT DAY arrived, and I reached my 60th birthday. It was almost the perfect day. We "had a lie-in" until mid-morning. Opened the cards and presents. Pancakes for breakfast. No work! A little shopping, a bag of chips, and then "The King's Speech" at Cineworld. Best of all I received my first ever senior citizen discount, but I do wish the pretty young girl at the kiosk had asked me for proof; I'd prefer not to think my face is my fortune. Then, two blips on the radar - Chesterfield dropped another two points at home and, worst of all, Wolverhampton Wanderers read the wrong script against my beloved Manchester United. But equilibrium was restored with an enjoyable meal around the Teppanyaki at Chesterfield's only Japanese restaurant. And so to bed - but first another futile attempt to get at THE BIG SECRET. They've been plotting, planning and preparing for weeks. So what do I know for sure? Viv's the master planner. Emi's coming here at the crack of dawn. I have to drive them to Lu and Lynnette's house and then, "all will be revealed?" But what? What will be revealed? They won't tell me. It's like a deep omerta - "if I told you I'd have to kill you". But why? Surely now it's Sunday they could tell me before taking me on my magical mystery tour. It won't be to collect my bus pass; the new rules say I don't qualify for that particular rite of passage until November.
Come on Viv, spill the beans. How should I dress? Will I need my new camera? Is it a place I've been to before? Who else will be there? Is it indoors or outdoors? Will I qualify for (my second ever) concession? All is tight-lipped and inscrutable. But I think, with this impenetrable veil of secrecy, I might just have guessed at the truth; my wife, the kids, all wreathed in smiles and reassurances taking me on a trip they guarantee I will just love? Shaping a day that will be memorable for all? That's it! I've got it. They're checking me into a twilight home. A nice comfortable and safe environment for genteel retired folk. That's what it must be. But am I ready for this? What can I say in mitigation?
I could quote Tennyson when his Ulysses is becoming aware of the diminishing of some of his powers in his "3rd Age". "Although we are not now that strength which in old days moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are."
I could echo Dylan Thomas's words and "not go gently into that good night." But despite my conniving, cajoling and protestations, The fact is I don't yet know what today might bring, but just in case they have not handed me over to the care of others, it will be back to work on Monday. You see yesterday I managed to reach the OA, but someone missed the P off the end.
Thank God for the Internet. Quick - spread this message now. I might be in the care of my local authority tomorrow. You see yesterday THE GREAT DAY arrived, and I reached my 60th birthday. It was almost the perfect day. We "had a lie-in" until mid-morning. Opened the cards and presents. Pancakes for breakfast. No work! A little shopping, a bag of chips, and then "The King's Speech" at Cineworld. Best of all I received my first ever senior citizen discount, but I do wish the pretty young girl at the kiosk had asked me for proof; I'd prefer not to think my face is my fortune. Then, two blips on the radar - Chesterfield dropped another two points at home and, worst of all, Wolverhampton Wanderers read the wrong script against my beloved Manchester United. But equilibrium was restored with an enjoyable meal around the Teppanyaki at Chesterfield's only Japanese restaurant. And so to bed - but first another futile attempt to get at THE BIG SECRET. They've been plotting, planning and preparing for weeks. So what do I know for sure? Viv's the master planner. Emi's coming here at the crack of dawn. I have to drive them to Lu and Lynnette's house and then, "all will be revealed?" But what? What will be revealed? They won't tell me. It's like a deep omerta - "if I told you I'd have to kill you". But why? Surely now it's Sunday they could tell me before taking me on my magical mystery tour. It won't be to collect my bus pass; the new rules say I don't qualify for that particular rite of passage until November.
Come on Viv, spill the beans. How should I dress? Will I need my new camera? Is it a place I've been to before? Who else will be there? Is it indoors or outdoors? Will I qualify for (my second ever) concession? All is tight-lipped and inscrutable. But I think, with this impenetrable veil of secrecy, I might just have guessed at the truth; my wife, the kids, all wreathed in smiles and reassurances taking me on a trip they guarantee I will just love? Shaping a day that will be memorable for all? That's it! I've got it. They're checking me into a twilight home. A nice comfortable and safe environment for genteel retired folk. That's what it must be. But am I ready for this? What can I say in mitigation?
I could quote Tennyson when his Ulysses is becoming aware of the diminishing of some of his powers in his "3rd Age". "Although we are not now that strength which in old days moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are."
I could echo Dylan Thomas's words and "not go gently into that good night." But despite my conniving, cajoling and protestations, The fact is I don't yet know what today might bring, but just in case they have not handed me over to the care of others, it will be back to work on Monday. You see yesterday I managed to reach the OA, but someone missed the P off the end.
posted by Phil Green at 10:56 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home