April 18, 2018
The other day, I was telling our boys about dear old Daisy. Daisy was my grand-aunt – my maternal grandfather’s only sibling. As I told them her story, you could hear a pin drop in the car. There was nothing remarkable in Daisy’s life. Like most women of her generation, she lived and died simply. But the world she inhabited – a world so different to ours – is one that perished with her. Known to her devoted neighbours as ‘Mrs Mac’, Daisy lived in a small house with her husband and another elderly lady named Una. How Una came to live with Daisy is still a mystery to me. What I do know is that Daisy and Una were inseparable. It was not that Daisy and Una always got on with each other. All day long, they bickered about anything and everything. Indeed, they were so used to bickering that, even when they were being nice to each other, they feigned to bicker. An example. Una walks into the kitchen, collapses in her armchair and says: ‘What ails ye?’ Daisy: ‘You are! Can’t you see I’m trying to clean the floor?’ Una: ‘Will we go and get the groceries?’ Daisy: ‘If you’d give a hand we’d get out quicker!’ And then, irrespective of the weather, they would set off in their overcoats and scarves, their shopping trolleys trailing behind. Daisy’s day always began at dawn – even in the summer…Read more
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