Adrian Mole @ 69 The retirement years


January 5th

Pandora came to visit me at my sheltered accommodation today. Even without my glasses I can tell she’s let herself go. I swear I saw Mr Roberts in Room 19 wearing them on his weekly outing to Bingo. I hope he wins a full house, then I might get a chance of getting them back. I’m making do with a magnifying glass that one of my grandchildren gave me. It was a lovely thought, but I could tell it was a free gift out of a Christmas cracker when I found a rubbish joke attached to it. Pandora’s treacle-coloured hair is now bright pink because the apprentice hairdresser at her local salon is dyslexic and there was a mix-up with the hair dyes. I tried to comfort her and told her she looked like a beautiful piece of candyfloss ready to be devoured, which I thought was quite poetic for that early in the morning, but she was visibly annoyed by the comparison. Mr Scott in Room 5 didn’t help things when he asked Pandora to help him find his dentures. Pandora huffed something about us being ‘old Buggers’ and raced off like Lewis Hamilton, just about missing Mr Scott’s carer who was carrying his jar of pickled eggs. What happened to help the aged?

January 6th

It’s armchair aerobics in the communal hall today. I feel like I’m appearing in the film ‘cocoon’. Women over the age of 40 should NOT be encouraged to bounce up and down. I noticed them passing out the Tena lady pads before we even began. I don’t think any of the women at Over The Rainbow sheltered Accommodation owns a bra. Mr Scott didn’t seem to mind though, and I noticed how he frantically fought for a chair opposite the ample bosomed Mrs Pearce from Room 11, or big breasted Brenda as I heard some of the other women call her. There’s only four men that live here, so there’s plenty of women to go round. I’m the youngest person here, sometimes I feel like a member of staff.

I found my glasses after making unsubtle hints at Mr Roberts. I think our friendship may be over. I found them in the biscuit tin after I offered the Warden a cup of tea and a custard cream. I can’t understand how they got there, but if anybody actually visited me for more than ten minutes I would’ve offered them a tea and biscuits and found them earlier.

January 7th

Barry Kent popped in for a chat today, I think he’s lonely. He must be, because Over The Rainbow is more like a morgue than The Emerald City, especially after dinner when everybody has fallen into a food coma. The only yellow brick road is the pee soaked mat on the way to the toilets. I think Barry is hoping he will find a new heart because his own one is a bit dodgy and he needs a Pacemaker. Personally, I think he’s in more need of a new brain- I think Pandora and I were the only ones to learn anything from Neil Armstrong Comprehensive school. The kids told me the School has been knocked down to make way for a new college where you can graduate in Lady Gaga studies and Hair management.

I have a feeling that Big Breasted Brenda has the hots for Barry. He still has some of his own teeth and can walk with out a frame, so I can see the attraction. She’s always sitting near the front door, like a garden gnome, whenever Barry is leaving. Mr Scott has the hots for Big Breasted Brenda and isn’t happy about the competition from an outsider and seems to be blaming me. I’m the only person who can be in a love triangle, but not be the object of anybody’s affections. I’ve only been here a few weeks and I’ve managed to upset half the male population. My circle of friends has now dwindled to a semi-circle.

January 8th

It’s been like an episode of The Sopranos today, with the Ambulance turning up, stretchers and a body bag. Mrs Sunderland’s mobility scooter lost control in the foyer, even though it only goes at 5 miles per hour, and knocked over two residents. You’ve never heard so much commotion. I was sat peacefully watching Homes Under The Hammer when all hell broke loose. The noise made me miss how much a house went for in Stoke-On-Trent after it’s refurbishment. Sadly, we had another incident when one of the residents on the third floor sadly passed away. I phoned Pandora to tell her that a room has now become available but she put the phone down. Thank God Glen, Glenda is picking taking me out for a two for one lunch deal tomorrow.

January 9th

Glen is now Glenda. He felt a career in the Army was a good way to suppress his femininity but now he needs to be the real him/her. He’s only halfway through his transition, but he still fits in well at Over The Rainbow because most of the women here have a beard or moustache. Mr Roberts loves it when Glenda comes to visit because she reminds him of his late wife Beryl. Mr Roberts really needs to check if he’s wearing the correct glasses. There is a real problem with theft in this place. Last week I saw a lady wearing the V- necked jumper that my mother knitted me for Christmas. I knew it was mine because one arm was significantly longer than the other and it smelt of fags. When I confronted the lady, who I’m still trying to track down, she told me she had bought it from M&S. If M&S are selling items like that, then they won’t have any major shoplifting problems. I don’t even like the jumper, but the smell reminds me of my mother and she may not be with us much longer.

Glenda corrects me every time I call her Glen, but I’m an old man and these things take getting used to, like the 3inch heels she insists on wearing. Glenda has informed me that I am going to have a carer visit me from next week because she’s going back to college and won’t be able to visit me as often. When I ask her what she’s studying she mumbles something about lady Gaga’s hair.

When I arrived back home i sensed something exciting happening in the main hall because all the residents were lined all with big smiles on their faces. When I got in line I realised it was just the monthly visit from the Chiropodists. When you get passed the age of 50, you need hedge trimmers to get through your toe nails. I considered leaving the queue, but I had nothing better to do so I just stayed in line.


The F Word…

Being a woman and not having a penis left me at a serious disadvantage when it came to explaining puberty and sex education to my eldest son. I thought I’d experienced enough embarrassment to last me a lifetime during labour. The last thing I remember about labour was looking down at my feet and seeing a random stranger sewing my vagina back up. I didn’t think anything could top that amount of embarrassment, not even a smear test. Imagine my complete mortification when I had to take my son to see the Doctor because he had a sore willy and couldn’t wee properly.

Like any mom, I’d already self diagnosed it as a water infection and expected the Doctor to write out a prescription for Antibiotics, how wrong was I? After an examination, the diagnosis was to be a lot more sinister.

As soon as I heard the F word or ‘foreskin’ I knew we were in trouble. My son and I both looked at each other with a fear in our eyes I never want to experience again. Neither of us wanted to be in that Doctor’s surgery, especially with each other. After we were informed that boys need to start pulling their foreskin back to ensure a thorough clean, I cursed his dad for not taking him. By the time we got to the word ‘circumcision’ I was ready to pass out. This was even worse than when my three year old stuck all my sanitary towels over his jumper and I didn’t realize till we got to nursery. After our sex education lesson, I nodded in the right places and we left with red faces and no Antibiotics. In my defence, I haven’t got a penis and trying to explain to a ten year old how I know about a man’s foreskin is a conversation I don’t want to get into. Life with girls must be so much easier, because at least I know what they are going through. After the dreaded walk of shame past the Rottweiler receptionist, who I had fought with to get an emergency appointment, I tried to explain to my son about the foreskin in the only way a woman knows how…… ‘Son, next time, ask your dad’..