Tuesday 4 December 2018

No Fool Like an Old Fool


by M Bulleyment

 “Dreadful. Absolutely mind-numbingly dreadful! What was Plumcake thinking of? Even by his standards, that was dire. Rock around the clock? See you later, alligator? I’m not a child. It’s my
legs that don’t work, not my brain.”

 “Calm down, Cora, for goodness sake. Now, you’ve got your chair stuck.” 

Magda patiently manoeuvred the wheelchair through the door and turned Cora around to face her.
“I’m sure Mr Plumrose thought that The Fun Fifties would be just that. The Memory Corner residents loved it.”

“Precisely. It doesn’t matter what you give them, they’ll have forgotten it a minute later, but some of us will have recurring nightmares from that dreadful din. I can’t wait until my son’s back in the country and I can leave this cultural desert. You’re the only person who keeps me sane in this place, Magda.”

“You take everything so personally, Cora. Just relax. They can’t please everyone here.”

“My one fear in life has always been to end up in a place like this, where people’s idea of fun is to entertain you with ancient pop music – that I loathed at the time – and pretend they’re helping you relive happy, youthful memories. I mean… Oh, no.”

“Now, what?”

“We’ve had The Fighting Forties; The Fun Fifties (smog and rationing?) so please tell me we’re not having The Swinging Sixties. It’ll be The Beatles, won’t it and Memory Corner’ll love every yellow-submarined note of it? Spare me.”

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