my nan

 

 

“The evolutionary phase of Nanadom” … that’s how my friend Claire described my life this morning. And the annoying thing is, she’s totally right. I’ll try and explain. (That’s my lovely Nan Florence above by the way.)

 

Let’s just use this morning as an example. I had to drop my new car off to the garage to get the air con repaired, not a great start bearing in mind I’ve only had the damn thing two weeks, but hey, I have no intention of paying for the repairs! Anyway, Dad followed me so he could bring me back home or, as I like to call it, the café. I dropped the car off, all good. Got to the café and went to take my prescription sunglasses off, only to realise that … I had left my normal glasses in the car.

 

So there I am, sat in the café, wearing my sunglasses, looking like a total diva (as per), trying to pour my coffee from my cafetiere but spilling it everywhere because IT’S SO DAMN DARK! The waitress came over to help me clear up and I felt the overwhelming urge to explain that I don’t think I’m Mariah Carey, I’m just completely blind without the sunglasses. In fact, I went into way more detail than necessary (or that she’d have no doubt liked) and relayed the story of my entire morning … including getting caught in the traffic jam that’s up by the new Asda garage.

 

It’s pathetic. I’m literally that old woman that talks to the cashier at Tesco because she has no-one else to talk to. You know the one everyone feels so sorry for because she’s probably so damned lonely and only has her cat to talk to. (For the record, I don’t even have a cat.)

 

And THEN … as I sat there nursing my second coffee, I looked at the screen on my Macbook and saw that the screen kept going light and dark and got really worried because I thought it was dying. Until I realised that it only happened when I moved my head slightly and it’s because I’m wearing bloody sunglasses that are darker on the outside of the lens.

 

I then happened to look down at my fingernails and noticed that I’ve got another vertical ridge on my little fingernail. So I did the one thing you should NEVER do … I Googled it. Turns out, yup, down to old age.

 

Great.

 

So this is it isn’t it? This is the evolution of a woman. This is just what happens. I’ve got to the point in life where I only buy a small pack of mince because I can make that last a few days, or I buy just the one carrot because if I buy more they’ll go off. Or if I don’t eat the free shortbread biscuit that comes with my coffee, I wrap it up in a napkin and take it home for later.

 

I have bed socks.

I have two chin hairs.

I am in bed by 8pm most nights.

I can’t listen to Radio 1 anymore. I find myself saying, “It’s just noise.”

I also say, “I would NEVER talk to my Mum like that,” a lot.

I like garden centres.

I think youngsters drive too fast.

 

I could go on, but I’m wisely choosing not to.

 

The Nan I was closest to died when she was 84 and I was in my mid-20’s and she was pretty awesome, so I don’t mind the thought of turning into her. Although, if I’m honest, I’d rather it didn’t happen when I’m 44. Florrie loved gin and orange and got through a bottle a week – actually, she also liked whiskey or, as she called it when inebrirated, ‘whinskey’. She was disabled for the last 25 years of her life and had lost the use of one arm and one leg due to a stroke but always lived independently. She was a great cook, blind as a bat but kept forgetting to use her glasses that were on a chain around her neck and so when she read the newspaper it was literally 1mm away from her face.

 

I loved the bones of that woman. And she really loved us.

 

It’s inevitable, this getting old business, and unfortunately women don’t really have a great track record in my family of a) making it to old age or b) being particularly healthy. But what they do have is a history of being strong, matriarchal figures and it’s something I hope I live long enough to become. I have a strong (not forceful, not forceful) personality and I like to think that I’ll be remembered – hopefully in a good way!

 

But for now, I’ll embrace my bed socks and new-found love of gin and know that it’s just the evolution of nanadom and something that shouldn’t be fought.

 

Have you noticed signs you’re turning into your Nan?

 

 

 

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