As a new mum on maternity leave, my "outings" are not unlike that of an elderly woman. Except I'm pushing a pram instead of pulling one of those nanna trolleys and I've my slip-on shoes are quicker to put on that those orthopaedic shoes that look like fat white trainers.
It's mid morning on a weekday and I've headed out of the house with my son in his pram to the local café, passing a grey-bunned woman wearing her fat lace-ups and her maroon nanna trolley clattering behind her.
After my coffee I wandered up to the post office, where I saw grey-bun again. Her PO box was next to mine. I saw her again in the bakery where I buy bread then at the milk in the nearby supermarket. She clattered out of the chemist as I walked in then crossed the road as we both (presumably) headed back to our homes.
I suppose there is some comfort to be found in the thought that my routine may not change all that much over the next five decades.
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