My new girl-crush

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I’ve made a new friend, and I’m kind of stoked about it. Some close mates of mine told me that their Great Aunt had been moved into a local resthome and that they were going to travel down to Taranaki to visit her over summer.

“Oh, I can go and visit her if she wants some company,” I said, chipping some of the tarnish off my rusty halo. I figured I would drop in once or twice, take Bubba to twirl for the delight of the oldies and that would be that.

But I was wrong.

Lyla, the lovely lady I visit, is absolutely gorgeous and just a delight to chat to. I LOVE my weekly catch-ups with her. When I first met her I thought she was so sharp and in pretty good shape so I figured her to be around 75 or maybe 80.

She’s 97. It’s just incredible. She taught yoga for years, in a church up north. After she’d been using the church for classes for around 6 years some locals decided that yoga was pretty much the work of the devil and she had to stop. She didn’t. She said, no – I’ve been here six years and I’m going to go for one more. And she did, much to the dismay of the local lynch-mob. While they were trying to bully her out Lyla’s grand-daughter was born partially blind.

“See?” They said – “that’s what you get for being so wicked!”

Can you even imagine?

One time I went to visit Lyla and she was tired, her and her friend had decided to take a wander around the sprawling grounds of the resthome (it’s huge and houses a hospital and community of retirement apartments too) the day before. They took off for such a hike that 4 carers had been sent off to hunt them down. They did it all on their walkers, up hill and down dale – I imagine they tied silk scarves around their hair Thelma and Louise-style but I have no proof of that.

During my visit yesterday Lyla was telling me all about a little party the home had put on for the residents and their families, an afternoon tea in ‘olden-day style.’ Beautiful hats were mandatory, scones and tea were served in lovely vintage crockery and old-time music was played while the revellers partied until the wee small hours of the late afternoon.

How lovely would that be? It got me thinking about the kind of yesteryear parties they’ll plan when I’m in a resthome. I talked about it with the Viking, we decided that the staff might dust off some early model iPads and we could all sit around in our cow onesies playing Angry Birds and listening to One Direction. Which sounded pretty shit by comparison really.

What do you think the icons of our generation will be? Please don’t say Justin Bieber. 

 

Comments

  1. When they speak about someone being ‘a real Lady’ they have Lyla in mind.