Lunch With Martha

Another day out in which I realise that my brush with coronavirus has thoroughly depleted my energy. Thankfully, my oldest grandchild is very understanding. We lunched at Bob & Bert's (Martha's second choice as Middletown was packed) and it was good.  Then on to the shops. We browsed Cameron's, H&M and TK Maxx and bought nothing. The charity shops offered more interesting and affordable choices. I bought a thermal vest and a Barbara Kingsolver and Martha bought denim dungarees, a bright yellow raincoat and a slinky dress which I didn't really approve of but hey-ho at her age it's all about experimentation, isn't it. She can take it back if it's not right for her.

I wore my new Blundstone boots and felt rather good in them. On the way back Martha (who was walking backwards) said,

Hey Granny! I'm walking backwards and I'm still walking faster than you!

I said, 

Of course, you are. I'm nearly 70. You're lucky I'm walking at all.

That led to a conversation about how long I intended to live. I sensed that optimism was called for. I said I was aiming for 95 or thereabouts and that seemed to please her.

Isn't it odd that a conversation about mortality should warm the cockles of my heart so? For I know that at her age a quarter of a century hence must seem like a fantastical leap into the future. I'll do my best to live until then but if I don't I'm sure she'll be fine.

Tonight she is playing the ukelele at her school's open night.