Wheildon

one lovely greyton morning i was wandering along the main road to visit granny, whose geyser had exploded for the third time in as many months.  never mind the geyser — i was far more worried that granny would murder the agent who had supplied three faulty geysers.  patricia was no pushover when it came to poor service.

as i pondered the agent’s arrival and imminent clash, a very senior citizen was approaching at high speed, her walking stick tapping out a brisk rhythm on the tar.  it was pretty obvious to me that the lady was in a terrible state.  she usually pottered along at a greatly reduced speed, but now her steering had became suspect and her direction unsure.  nervous that she might swerve in front of a vehicle, i enquired if I might help.  she looked at me as if i was mad and announced that her daughter had gone to cape town and left her behind.

she was so agitated that i decided to do a christian deed and take her to cape town. in this way i would avoid becoming an accomplice in the demise of the geyser man.  i could drop off some property contracts with my attorneys to justify the trip.

i was instructed to take her home to collect handbag and hat, and off we went.  little was said on the way and we arrived on the foreshore in record time.  her daughter worked in one of the skyscrapers on the foreshore, and this was pointed out to me with the aid of her walking stick.  a dangerous move, as the curved handle did its best to hook out my left eyeball.

next was the problem of a parking place.  i had to find somewhere close to save my passenger having to walk any distance.  opting to stop outside the front door proved difficult.  the traffic department waved me on and we cruised the block like a great white shark.  to my relief, i eventually found a spot close enough.  my responsibility was almost over so i could get on with my chores.

not yet! ahead were revolving doors.

i started to panic when i saw the speed at which the doors were revolving.  we would never make it at the speed at which we were walking.  i visualised the old girl being launched into the foyer like a space shuttle if we got our timing wrong.  i rehearsed the routine several times to try and avoid an accident.  i gripped her arm firmly, counted to three and rushed the door as fast as i dared.  all went well until her walking stick, tucked under her arm, caught in the door and snapped off with a sound like a gunshot.  i lifted her into the relative safety of the foyer, where she turned on me in fury, brandishing the splintered remains of her walking stick.  to make matters worse, the security guards thought i was mugging the old dear and became a little aggressive.  once order had been restored, i badly wanted to escape and leave my charge in the capable hands of security, who could deliver mother to daughter.

they refused point blank, having watched the old girl froth at the mouth over the demise of her walking stick.  Furthermore, it had never crossed my mind that the old girl hadn't a clue what floor her daughter worked on, or the firm's name.  several phone calls found the information needed and, thankfully, we arrived without further incident.

i gave my name and asked to see the old lady’s daughter.

[are you with me, folks?]

daughter arrived in the firm’s reception, looked at her mother in astonishment and said “what are you doing here, mum?”

mother replied, “I have no idea.”

i did not know that the old lady had Alzheimer's.

i thanked the daughter profusely for the offer of driving the old girl home, but emphatically declined.

i very much regretted not having remained in greyton to watch the barney between my mother-in-law and the geyser man.  Far less stressful.