LATE IN THE DAY.

“Ah! I’ve found it! There it is. The note that says to go and buy some more washing up liquid in case there’s another war. I wonder why I put it in the freezer? Never mind I’ve found it now”.

I’m exhausted. It took me forty-five minutes to get back from the shops. When I kept asking people where Chestnut Avenue was they looked at me as if I was off my chump. Who gives them permission to keep altering the road signs that’s what I’d like to know. Chestnut Avenue, Chestnut Avenue, I kept repeating it like a mantra. Then I met mrs. ‘’’Oh you know! She has the little black dog. She walked back with me and says this road is now called Lyme Avenue of all things! I must write it down before I forget. She asked me why I’d gone shopping in my slippers of all things! As if I’d ever do a silly thing like that! What was that road again? Chestnut Avenue wasn’t it? Ah! I used to live there with my mother and sisters. Funny that. Mother hasn’t been to see me for months. She used to come every week without fail, regular as clockwork she was. You can’t rely on people can you? You’d think though that your own mother would be the last person to let you down. Where did I put my pen? Oh here it is! In the washing up bowl. Those children must have been in again! Little tikes! No discipline! Well they don’t teach them properly now. We had to do our tables: Once two is two, two twos are four, four twos are ‘’’’’’ What’s the name of that road again? I know how to remember it. One-two buckle my shoe, three four, knock at the door, five six pick up sticks, six! Six! That’s it! Three twos are six! Four twos are eight! Who says I’m losing my memory! Of course I’m not!

I must remember to get the money ready for the milkman. He calls for it on Saturdays. It’s Saturday tomorrow. It was Saturday the day before yesterday. They never used to have two Saturdays in a week. I expect that’s the government or Europe. First they messed about with the money and then the weights and now they’re messing about with the time. Can’t leave anything be. Oh look! My slippers are all wet! There’s mud on them. Must have been when I went out to get the washing in.

Think I’ll make some tea. Oh I can’t. There is no tea. Tea tin’s full of those silly little things! Who do they think can be bothered breaking into those things to get the tea leaves out? Why does everything have to be wrapped up so stupidly? I threw them all out! Every last one of them went in the bin. Perhaps Mrs. ‘’’’’You know! What’s her name, she may have some proper tea. She didn’t. She gave me some more of those stupid things and told me they’re all like that now. “I know” I said. “Do you think I’m stupid”? She gave me a funny look, telling me she was going to ring Social Services and that I’m not safe to live here on my own. I don’t like them! They take people’s children away and look through your papers and pry into your affairs.

I must go and get some washing up liquid in case

there’s another war. Oh how I remember the war! Straight down in the shelter as soon as the siren sounded and not up again until the “all clear” sounded. They wanted me to have Shirley evacuated. I was not standing for that. I was right anyway. Oh she’s a fine girl! She came last week or was it the week before? Time goes so quickly. That lot in Parliament have speeded it up. Keep fiddling with the clocks. Can’t leavve anything alone. I must put my slippers to dry. I wonder how they got so wet? Sometimes my head feels as if it is full of cotton wool and little stones. When I try to think the little stones and cotton wool move about. Then my head starts to ache. I’m sure things used to be different before the stones began scraping together but I can’t think how. Mrs. Simmonds! That’s it! Mrs. Simmonds! That’s her name! She gets right narky if they leave out the d. That’s better! Ah I remember now! Who says my memory’s going!

Fancy that! I must have gone to bed with my clothes on! First time I’ve ever done that. I must go shopping after breakfast. I’ve just been out to the gate but I can’t remember which way to turn for the shops. Doesn’t it take a long time to get light these days? Well if I go now it will have got light by the time I get there surely. Did I have breakfast? No I didn’t! That’s why I can’t remember. My mother always says that your brain won’t function properly on an empty stomach. You should always have breakfast if you want to be at your best. Besides it stops you fainting in the middle of the morning. That coffee was horrible! It was the right colour but it didn’t taste like coffee. Now I know why! When I finally found my specs and held the jar up to the light it said: “g.r.a.v.y g.r.a.n.u.l.e.s” on it. Those little buggers have been in again and put gravy granules in my coffee jar. I can’t understand the parents of today.

I had to wait an hour for the shops to open. “You are an early bird, Ada”, said the chap in the baker’s. He looked a bit strange when I asked if he’d had a nice Christmas. He told me that Christmas wasn’t for another two months! Well why have they got those cards up in the news agent’s? I’ll ask mother when she comes. She does annoy me! You’d think she’d pop in and see me especially after all the years I spent going to see her, on buses in the pouring rain. She sent me back a letter I wrote to her the other day. It said: “Not known at this address” on it. If she’s moved why hasn’t she let me know where she’s gone? You’d think you’d be able to rely on your own mother! We used to have some wonderful times together. Poor but happy, that’s what we were. She used to tell me stories before I went to sleep. When I was frightened she used to come in and chase the ghosts away. We had a big black Labrador named Jet which she used to take with us over the fields. I can’t remember it raining as much as it does now. Rain’s got in here but not everywhere, only where I’m sitting. My clothes are wet! I’ve just been to the window but the pavements look dry. There must be a leak in here somewhere. I’ll have to ring Mr. Jarvis about it.

I never used to have this bedroom. They’ve moved all these people in here. I can’t quite remember when it was but I think it was just after I saw that beautiful sunset in my kitchen. A lovely big ring was glowing red, as if the sun really had come to earth. I touched it and burned my hand. I can still see the scar. I never knew you could burn your hand on the sun like that. They said it was the cooker ring but who’d be so stupid as to leave the cooker ring on with nothing on it? I want to go home. They tell me lies in here! For one thing they tell me my mother has been dead for over thirty years and that I am eighty-five. Impossible! I was only sixty last year and I should know. Shirley gave me a lovely cake and a party. She’s coming tomorrow. I shall ask her to get me out of here. Why should they keep me here? I haven’t done anything! The ceiling leaks here as well. All the stones and cotton wool are going round in my head! I asked where Albert was and why he hasn’t come home yet from the war. They said the war’s been over since 1945. I can’t take it all in! The staff here keep taking my things. Just the other day I lost a lovely blue cardigan. Then I saw one of them wearing an identical one to it. They think I don’t know what they’re up to but who’d be so stupid as to mislay a cardigan?

I’ve been standing at the gates waving to Shirley. She says I’m safer in here and that I can’t look after myself now. I’m sad to think I’ve had to leave my home. She told me that her father and I bought it off Mr. Jarvis years ago but I can’t remember now. My head’s more full of cotton wool than ever. The bits where I was a child though are so vivid. I can remember skinning my knees on the bark of a tree which I’d climbed just so I could get a glimpse of Eddie Pritchard who, years later, used to take me to the pictures but ask me what I’d had for breakfast yesterday or today and I’d be hard put to tell you.

It’s late in the day. I’ve just seen the sun go down behind the trees. I think tomorrow’s Saturday. Funny that! There never used to be more than one Saturday in a week. I must go out tomorrow and get some more washing up liquid in case there’s another war. Twenty pence should be enough surely. Aren’t the prices high! I shall write to mother again too. I’m so worried about her. Before I do though, I must have a little sleep.