A glorious late summer’s day for the geriatric golf today. I had my usual ride around with Griggsy accompanied by a lot of ragging andÂ laughter, which, no doubt, did me the power of good. Between times getting me out of the car and in and out of the club house, good old Scott, the club secretary, gave me ‘hug’ lifts and transferred me like a baby from one place to another. The only time Scott was not available three of my dear fellow members attempted to get me through the main door. One pushing on my bottom one, pulling on my frame and the other one, rather apprehensively, onto my arms. They were about as effective as three inexperienced removal men trying to get a chest of drawers up a narrow staircase but, of course, they really meant well and I am grateful to them for trying.
When it came to lunch, again Scott came to the rescue and dressed me up with all my paraphernalia. I struggled to feed myself, not having the articulated arm rest which I use at home. and dear George (Bull), spotting my difficulty from another table, unobtrusively moved over to sit next to me and feed me. Next week I think I will try taking my articulated arm rest.
The one mandatoryÂ lavatory break was affected now, as a narrow of habit, by Griggsy, escorted me to the ladies changing room and slipping his hands up the back of my kilt to remove my pants. It works very well with very little personal involvement from the carer. How much longer I will be able to wear the kilt will depend on how cold the weather becomes! We all know about ‘brass monkey’ weather.