The Olde-Timers

Most of my clients were born in the 1930s and 1920s. A few debuted in the teens and one or two in the naughts. We lost the one born in the naughty nineties. Yes, the 18-90s. We did not lose her to the grave- we lost her to a brand spanking new Carehome. A private carehome.

When I am 107, I want to live in a brandnew private Carehome too! It is much more likely I will be biding my time in a cold patch of earth. Ah, skeptism!

My morning client was born the same year his house was built; the same year the olde oak at the back was planted, the same year the Chinese republic was declared after the Manchu dynasty was overthrown. 1911.

My client was telling me tonight's dinner will be sausages and Yorkshire pudding.
I love that idea. I love it enough to try it myself tomorrow night. And here, shared by consent is his generic Yorkshire pudding recipe.

1 1/2 C Flour
1 1/4 Tablespoon baking powder
2 eggs whipped
bit of milk
pinch of salt

I have a feeling his definition of bit and pinch could be the secret right there.

There was a berry pie cooling on the counter alongside 2 dozen cookies.
"Thought the kids might come."
Yesterday there was a chocolate cake. The kids did not come so he put it away.
The kids are his grandsons and their children. He was a little sad last weekend that noone at all showed up- the fact most of them live 100 miles away means nothing much to him.

Today is a holiday. The road in front of his house was busy with a parade of campers and boats and cars, one after another. He sits on the couch and counts them.

"Yup, I guess one more year and I will retire."
"oh?"
"Yup, one more year and I will pack my shaver and my toothbrush in my bag and walk out the door."

The one acre yard takes him a few days to cut now. He is fretting about the price of furnace oil. He does not know how he is going to get his groceries since town is about 7 miles away and he doesn't know how far the scooter will go.

There are more than a few neighbour kids who would LOVE the job of cutting his lawn, but he does not want to pay more than 5 bucks. He has 7 cords of wood piled outside that can get him through the winter, and both local grocery stores offer delivery. He won't use the service because he got a bag of grapefruits from one of them, with 3 fruits that had to be thrown away.
He was annoyed to think he paid 50 cents each for garbage.
"That's what comes of someone else picking out your food. If I can't see it, I don't want to buy it."

He told me the only thing he ever bought on credit was his house. Even then, he paid one third down, and the balance off over 2 years. There is a definite Scot in him.

When I come he asks me what took me so long and when I leave he calls me love and thanks me and makes sure he knows when I am coming back.

What immense charm in the ways of stability.

My very next client saw his name on my sheets and asked if it was _______ (his first name), the painter and wall-paper hanger.

"Oh he was such a wonderful gentleman. His wife wasn't well for years you know. He did all the cooking and cleaning and nursed her. He really is a wonderful man."

HEY.... I knew that!
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