I can waddle, but cannot walk three miles a day, as advised by young, fit fifty-year-old athletes. Keep active and socialise as much as possible is another pearl of wisdom, given to those who don’t by those who do.
There is one unavoidable circumstance that is of greater impact on solitary old ‘uns than all the good advice that floats around our heads. It is something we all do. It’s called Going Home.
I still keep as active as possible. Calling out the numbers at the Bingo session at the Darby and Joan club, occupies one afternoon. Playing a form of short mat bowls is also a means of socialising. Darts, cards, and dominos are also available at our local centre. I meet a good number of people that way; but only for the time we are engaged in some activity.
But then it is time to Go Home. It matters not how full and exciting a day one has enjoyed, there comes the moment when one unlocks the front door and enters an empty and silent house. Nobody to greet you and offer a cup of tea or to ask how went the day.
Name and address withheld
