Women: The Old, The Young and The 'Will-be-soon's

One of my irritating traits - at least I suspect that it's irritating, while hoping that it might be endearing - is to fix on small or irrelevant details and draw them into conversation whenever I can.  One such detail is the bizarre fact that, although we can boast four bell-ringers in our congregation, our church has no bells.  Out of our four ringers, myself and one other are active, and ring every week at the only church in our lovely First Garden City that does have a ring of bells, one is retired and the fourth was dormant.

I say 'was dormant' because this week, after a protracted campaign, the necessary transformation has begun to change this to 'active'.  Having not touched a rope for about twenty years, this is not instantaneous but, once learned, the underlying skills are never completely forgotten and a couple of weeks of intense practice will work wonders of reinstatement.

In an e-mail exchange to arrange the details of this return, reference was made to 'children getting in the way' - one of the major hazards to life that is far from unknown to parents of young children near and far alike.  I said I could still recall those frustrations from my own past.  In our conversation on Monday evening, our transformee reported her five-year-old asking of me, "How old is he?"  She had shown her daughter my e-mail and had, as an indication, pointed out that I'd said that my daughter was now 43. "Gosh, mummy," came five-going-on-ten wisdom, "That's older than you!"

At this point in our conversation, I revealed my own age and was gratified to be told that I looked younger: "Really!  I thought you had retired early from work."  As I wrote here only a few months ago, and explained there and then, I feel much younger, largely as a result of the company I keep.

After the midweek church service, I was talking with a woman of about my own years about small 'triumphs' in life, and cited overcoming an habitual reluctance to make social phone calls.  I explained that I had made a diary note to call two people this week, and had now phoned one of them ... which I regarded as something of a 'triumph'.  This is an old lady who has been a friend for many years - a former bell-ringer, as it happens - whose husband died, after several years of incapacity, last Spring.  I made an arrangement to go and visit her for a chat next week.  The other woman, also recently widowed, is a distant cousin and I also phoned her this week to see how she is coping with life alone.

This second widow is only a little older than me, and her husband died quite suddenly at Easter-time.  I spoke to her for the first time ever in a phone call just before Christmas and learned first-hand of the terrible loneliness that she still feels.  Perhaps it's not surprising that I wasn't looking forward to fulfilling my pledge to 'keep in touch'.  It's difficult to know what to say in these circumstances ... especially if, like me, you're the sort of person who likes to have a conversation mapped out in advance.  In our brief exchange this week - she was about to go shopping - she explained that this is something we have in common!

As I write this, the elder widow has just phoned to say she's not feeling well, and has had to put off  my visit until another time.  Another aspect of getting old, I suppose: there is much to be grateful for in having a warm room with a desk in the sunlight streaming through the window.  Now, am I going to carry on digging into the great families borne by women of yesteryear ... or shall I go to that football match this afternoon?