The hen weekend I was telling you about started in a funny way. I arrived in Gosport two hours before everyone else, thinking I would find a tea shop and read while I waited. I sat on the harbour wall for a while enjoying the sun, and then asked a lady passing on an electric buggy thing if she could direct me to a local tea outlet. Apparently all tea shops in Gosport close by 5 pm, but fortunately for me, hospitality is to be found else where. Margaret took me home for tea!
In the following two hours I discovered an awful lot about colostomy bags, knitting, life married to a naval officer, the loneliness of old age and the techniques of befriending squirrels. Margaret is eighty five, has had fifty years of marriage divided equally between two husbands and four children. Her spare room is piled high with cardies she has knitted but which no one wants. Her last hair cut made her hair too short to be styled. She hopes her daughter won’t visit before it grows back. She had a cream cake in the fridge, and when I went to use her toilet she got a clean towel out of the cupboard and gave me a special guest soap to use. She didn’t want me to go when it turned seven and I had to meet my friends. I wish I lived closer so I could go and see her again.