My Favourite Bus Shelter

Hi there

There is a lot of legal artwork going on around public areas in Wellington.  On walls.  Wellington City Council electricity boxes.  Fences. Bus shelters...

Above is my favourite Wellington bus shelter.  I so love bright colours.  This shelter is on the Miramar No 2 bus route, at the corner of Elizabeth and Brougham Streets.  I so wish I could paint, or draw, or even doodle.  I don't have one art bone in my body but, of course, I have been practising drawing cubes in case I get asked to produce one by those doctors who might one day be assessing me for Shady Pines (see earlier blog). 

Shady Pines, here I come?

Hi there

Recently, I wrote about how if we older people aren't too  careful with our actions we could be carted off to Shady Pines (reference "Golden Girls).  I rambled on about putting bowling balls in the fridge, and how it might only take one spur-of-the-moment absent-minded mistake like this and the guys in the white coats might truly register us for Shady Pines.

Yesterday, I mislaid my wallet again.  A brand-new five-day old wallet that wasn't, as yet, a familiar artefact to me.

I searched for it all around the house .....

With trepidation, I searched in the fridge, knowing that if I found my wallet in there I truly would be in line for Shady Pines.  Phewww, thank goodness, my wallet wasn't there. I  searched in even more outlandish places.  Goodness, I'd only handled the wallet forty-five minutes before, so why was I searching in the top of my wardrobe.  Alzheimer's became an even closer worry with every place I looked.  Had I had an amnesiac period?

My little cottage is about the size of most people's lounges.  I went round and around hunting in those rooms over and over, getting more and more agitated by the minute.

I thought about the last time I had opened my wallet.  What had I done after that?

Got it!  I had scooped up a big bundle of stuff from the kitchen counter and, arms laden, had carried it all outside to the recycling bin!

My wallet was there!   In the bin, amongst the egg trays, envelopes, council electioneering pamphlets and, sadly, empty Pepsi Max bottles (I swear I am trying to wean myself off Pepsi, promise).

I am so glad that no representative from Shady Pines was nearby to catch my latest "senior moment"...

Shady Pines Rest Home?

Hi there

A friend and I often joke about the time when we will end up at Shady Pines.

We are well aware that the slightest slip, any small sign of forgetfulness - like a bowling ball put into the fridge by mistake, a kettle left on the boil too long, a small house-fire, - and it will be Shady Pines, here we come.  A 20 year old putting a bowling ball in the fridge would have her friends grinning indulgently over the mistake but, hey, we older folk would be raced into a care facility faster than one can say "Alzheimers".

There are questions asked by the medical profession to see if an older person is ripe for induction:  "Name the Prime Minister?"  "What's the date?"  "Count backwards from a hundred in sevens".  "Draw a cube".  "Draw a clock face that reads ten-fifteen".

I'm pretty sure I would remember the name of the PM (phew!), I'd be somewhat hazy over the date,  I can't count in sevens forwards let alone backwards, and as for drawing a cube? - well, I have no eye for perspective.

When a relative was asked to draw the clock face, he drew a digital watch with the numbers "10:15" on it.  Five stars for being creative?

From now on, I'll have to watch my P's and Q's.  And my boiling kettles.  And my bowling balls.  This very morning I'm going to start in on drawing cubes ...