Okay, so some people have to know my age. Car and holiday insurance, to name two. But now it seems I have a whole host of Big Brothers, who know everything about me (and furthermore, what they think is good for me).
When I reached a certain age, I was offered funeral plans, extra life insurance, and frumpy crimplene clothes. Great. The latest is an invitation to attend the opening of a 'Retirement Village'. Yes. A lovely new Retirement Village, into which I can totter when I can no longer manage these stairs (I've already been offered the stair lift). Worse still, they want me to RSVP if I CAN'T come! Dream on, Retirement Village. I'm not spending the price of a stamp on telling you I can't come to something I'm not interested in.
We old people know that a stamp now costs 12 shillings in old money. So there.
Thursday, 12 July 2012
Happy birthday! Now choose your coffin.
Posted by Frances Garrood at 10:07
Labels: Big Brother, junk mail
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I'd go Frances, just for the free nosh and a glass of wine. There's sure to be enough material for a story in there.ReplyDelete
Thanks, Maggie. But I fear it will be cocoa out of a plastic beaker...Delete
Obviously not like the Retirement Villages in New Zealand then. Their 'dos' are quite splendid with excellent free nosh and good wine. It's paid for, of course, by the profits they make from their existing residents. Which could be our money!Delete
HA! I feel your sentiments. My daughters wanted to know what I was going to do in retirement. To their surprise and dismay, I moved to Mexico, am in love with a much younger man, and will soon be building a writer's retreat. Take THAT old age! You can take all those retirement home, Scooter chair, and funeral planning ads and stick them up your AARP! I'm happy! This is the best time of my life.ReplyDelete
Good for you!Delete
Just re-address it all back to them and don't pay the postage!ReplyDelete
Sadly, I've binned the invitation :(Delete
Now that I've just turned 60 the NHS have written to kindly inform me that I might die from cancer of the colon and should take a test. That's cheered me up no end.ReplyDelete
The stair lift sounds tempting though. I could use it to carry the washing upstairs.
Taker the test, Keith. As Dr. Tegner says, not aesthetic, but screening is worthwhile (I'd give you some handy tips, but this blog is a family show).Delete
You probably know that I live not 10 miles from the lovely Wiltshire market town where you live, Frances (I was there this afternoon as a matter of fact, buying old floorboards from Beechfield Reclamation), and I say who would want to live in a retirement village with all the facilities we have here? When I hit 65 Agnes and I re-made our will (all still going to the kids, if they behave) and had to include our funeral wishes. All I know is that we would have 2 rose bushes put over our plot. They would get great nourishment no doubt. On the headstone some lines from Robert Burns. Anyway, having sorted that we don't think about it any more.ReplyDelete
By the way - cancer of the colon testing is a good idea. I did it - it wasn't aesthetically pleasant, but I'm glad I bothered.
I've told my kids to bury me. I want LOTS of flowers, and Bach. In St. Johns ( which you will know). Oh, and full choir, and bells.ReplyDelete
I think that's about it.
Hah - the joy of ageing and all the interest it brings from those who purport to want to make our lives easier...ReplyDelete
Haven't received any retirement village stuff (yet) but am inundated with those lovely glossy catalogues that offer me a wonderful choice of crimplene dresses, delightfully (awful) twinsets and thermal knee length knickers.
They are far to late - I have worn them for years...
Yes. Why do they think the older you are, the bigger the knickers? Having said that, my granny's were HUGE. Enjoy yours, Anna!Delete
I want to know where to get those crimplene dresses. I've recently bought fabric, a pattern, and thread for what I consider an ideal retired-woman's outfit. The top is loose and thigh-length and the trousers are baggy enough to be comfy while hiding any number of embarrassments.ReplyDelete
I agree, colonoscopies are awful, but really save lives. Colon cancer is even more awful, so get the test done, Keith!
I think the test Keith's referring to is, er, a 'sample'. And I agree, Kay. He should go for it.Delete
I love the sound of your outfit!
When I hit 30, a cosmetics company where I sometimes order shower gel and body lotion etc. from started to send me "special offers" in the shape of anti-wrinkle cream, bust-lifting cream and the like. At 30!! Now, at 44, they offer me "instant face lift" miracle stuff sold in tiny glass vials, costing a fortune for just a few drops of it. Needless to say, such adverts go straight to the waste paper basket.ReplyDelete
As for retirement plans... hmmm, there are provisions running in the background, which I hope will enable me to stay in my flat (by then it should really be MY flat - at the moment, it is still largely owned by the bank) and not have to salvage my neighbours' dustbins for food. But who knows what will happen until then! I may still find that nice and handsome Millionaire who wishes nothing more than to marry me :-)))
Never mind handsome. Millionaire on its own sounds just fine to me. After all, you can always close your eyes, Meike!Delete
I'd be happy if I could remember 30!Delete
Take no notice of Frances's lowering of standards Meike. You want handsome then you stick out for handsome. All or nothing! Hmmm. Could be nothing. Come to think of it perhaps Frances has a point.
Not lower standars, GB, just different standards. And of course I have a point.Delete