walking in a 80 someone’s shoes
my 11.30 am appointment with the doctor had me sitting in the waiting room ready for my weekly check up. most people dont see going to the doctor as an occassion but i rather enjoy the little experience, a reason to use the bus, get all dressed up, make small talk with teh cilnic staff, pass an hour or so away from my room at te end of the hall, bhulabhai desai road 400034.out of the house where you can be an uncle or someone’s kaka and maybe for a few minutes forget that your children’s children can write on the line but you cant anymore.
so i sit here fifteen minutes early , waiting for a doctor who is twenty minutes late.all teh magazinesseem to have girls in their underwear with men in suits. girls too young to be working, men too old to still belive they are fooling anyone.
dr mistry rushes through, appologising over his back at everyone and noone in particular. he has one of those ear phones connected to the mobile phone….handsfree my son calls it. free to be burdened with another dozen jobs you dont have the time to do well or the patience to do properly.maybe i m just old-fashioned, maybe my grey hair makes my identity but i ve seen our country get freedom, my children grow up and my friends go to their graves. i can live with these small memories with being reminded of my age every day.
i shall never understand the internet, i ll never learn how to speed dial, i ll never be hip as my grand daughter wants me to be. but i ll drink my tea without sugar , i ll take my walk every evening and i ll save some sweets for my grandson because i may be an old man but i can live with that. can you?
