Old Woman rules the day.

As the storm rages against the house (making me slightly nervous that the electricity will ‘go’ at any point) I can reflect on the last two days.

I was due to see my Gran on Thursday (28th) but when I turned up she’s been in hospital overnight as her angina was playing-up*. She was far too tired to do much so we just had a simple lunch and then I high-tailed it to Newcastle.

TheO saved my mental health and sent me shopping (confirming my belief that I am the luckiest girl in the world). Newcastle had moments of great joy (Yo! Sushi) and moments of great tiredness. The first 2 ½ hours of shopping were sadly fruitless - there was just nothing I really wanted; nothing that was either special enough to splash out on, or great enough to wear all the time. I tried on some great boots - but they had nothing below a 6, same with some shoes in a different shop… are the ladies of Newcastle blessed with tiny feet, or are there only giant clod-hoppers sold to the lovely (if slightly over made-up, straightened, highlighted and teased) Geordie lasses?

Finally I found a huge Fat Face and went craaaaazy - the staff were wonderful and brought me loads of things in different sizes and colours, a bulging bag of wonderfulness was the result. Then there was a shop-wide discussion of quite how stunning Ewan McGreagor is… this lasted quite some time and women of all ages were left looking slightly misty eyed.

A pretty stunning day was topped off with a Starbucks as I waited on my efficient and cheap train. (I swear, I’m not making this up.)

Today was devoted to my Gran - she needed it. We had the most perfectly formed “old woman” day that could be imagined:
- We went to the building society (not Northern Rock thank god) to withdraw money with “the book” as cash cards aren’t to be trusted.
-We went to a garden centre for a ‘nice look round’ and some lunch in their café.
- We popped into a factory shop to look for some nice “Marksies slacks“ - during this time I had to say nice things about items Gran liked whilst simultaneously making it clear that: I would not wear a heavily embroidered white shirt with gold lurex panels, just because she thought it was ‘young’.
- We paid by counting out (what felt like) hundreds of pieces of change - can there be a more stereotyped image?
This was topped off by a nice cup of tea and a sit down, with her own homemade drop scones.

I’m now prepared for my final night here. The car is half packed, the food has dwindled to some scraps, the cat is beginning to like me … must be time to go.

*Do not think I am in any way heartless. She is going to live forever and has always been a hypochondriac; she's only happy when she has something to complain about. She openly tells anyone who will listed: I'm not an old woman yet! This is said with great indignity. She will be 83 in 2 months time. Her mother lived to 102.