![]() The elderly men at the day centre they go to who keep hitting on them (their words), when they went pub crawling for Mary's 70th birthday. I was entertained with stories of their girls only holidays to Ibiza and other places as couples and since they all became widows, how they supported each other when their partners died, their trip to Glastonbury, yes Glastonbury!!. Rose started laughing as she added "Well she will have to celebrate it till she finds a toy boy to make another anniversary with". "He passed away 9yrs ago, but l still celebrate ourĪnniversary every year". "My dear l'll have to be dead to do that" she replied. They were going to watch a band play in a bar in Canterbury with the grandchildren and some of their university friends (how sweet l thought) I politely asked why not celebrate with her husband. These ladies were on their way to meet the grandson and granddaughter of the oldest one Margaret, who celebrated her 60th wedding anniversary the day before. ![]() For confidentiality l will call them Mary, Margaret and Rose. Well that was the end of my pretend reading of the evening standard and my introduction into a fun filled, no holds barred world of three elderly ladies. I told her and they in turn introduced themselves. ![]() My newspaper sanctuary was invaded yet again as l was taped by one of them, l politely lifted my head and smiled as the middle one asked me my name. To be honest the newspaper served as a shield against these three OAPs who l was now convinced could bite me contrary to their disclaimer. I returned to my newspaper as if my very life depended on it. Can you imagine all three of them started laughing whiles looking me square in the face. Oh brilliant they think am scared of them, l thought to myself as l attempted to say something but just smiled and mumbled something that was meant to be "am okay". The look of horror on my face when they sat opposite me must have been evident as one of them, tapped my knee and said " don't worry love we don't bite". To my surprise l found myself looking at three elderly women giggling loudly about something. I turned to look hoping this is not going to be a noisy journey with a bunch of over excited teenagers. My concentration was broken with loud giggles from behind me. On a busy train journey l sat down on the first empty seats l came across and buried my head in an evening standard. I use the word privileged because the society at large views older people as an inconvience, no fun moaning bunch of do gooders, taking up space on buses on pension days, but l was privy to a rare encounter on this day. Recently l was privileged to witness a rare site on a train journey.
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