Saturday, 20 August 2011

Encroaching old age.


The world turns and we turn with it but today is an intimation of mortality.
Before I married David the second I lived in a house which had a fairly steep drive. In the first week of living there the man who was painting it's outside watched me one morning as I carried my dustbin up the drive for collection.
The next day he produced a wheely bin.. explaining that it would be on my bill along with the paint when he'd finished.
I was grateful. I had puffed and panted up the slope The new bin still had to be pushed up it but it was easier than carrying one.
When I got married and moved house I asked David why we didn't have a wheely bin.
We didn't need one...he preferred to carry the rubbish out. That was fine, we are not up a hill and anyway carrying or pushing bins was now his job.
So this morning he announced that he was going into Truro.
I wondered what he'd shot off for? Images of flowers, new sandals, a haircut?
He came into the house saying Truro was very quiet, everyone was on the roads!
Then he produced a new wheely bin like a rabbit from a hat, previous conversation not mentioned.
"It's going to be much easier" he said..
Anno Domini approaches.

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