Older People

All posts tagged Older People

Old Hell v New Hell

Published September 13, 2022 by helentastic67

Old Hell versus New Hell.

On Saturday night I posted to my Social’s this, “Its Saturday night and I’m Out – Like Out-OUT! It blew up well, it was well-liked immediately.

These days, Saturday night is my Single Girl Date Nite when I go off-grid and watch films or try to. 

This Saturday I was OUT; I went to see a band I’d like since my days of working in clubs back in the 90’s. I’d not ever seen this band live. The gig had been rescheduled three times due to the Plague. Damn Plague and finally it was here. I should point out back in my club days, I was lucky to be home two nights a week, now I’m lucky to go out two nights a year. God, I feel old. 

Preparation to get out in the dark (I can’t see in the dark, if you recall) starts earlier than normal and the ritual of getting ready to go out is harder due to that only doing the ritual twice a year. The Ritual being the excitement of getting ready, choosing an outfit. The make-up, etc, etc. and the pre-event tunes.

Anyway, once near the venue my friend dropped me at a corner to wait while she parked down a side-street, so I didn’t need to navigate dark streets and uneven terrain. While waiting some twenty-somethings walked past stating “what’s with all the old people out tonight?” Grrr, can’t be talking about me.

Sorry, I digress, once at the venue, my tickets not appearing to be on the door, I left my name and they were happy to let us in. The venue manger introduced himself and I will give him a Pseudonym as I do everyone, I hope he appreciates it. Both for privacy and a play on words. Let’s call him Sriracha. You know the hot sauce? I’m not into chilli and I can say, I need to get out more, even though I hit sensory overload really early. 


Anyway, Sriracha lead my friend and I through the band room to a corner of the back where there was a raised area, he bought us two stools to perch on and told us if we needed anything, any of the staff could call him for me. My friend did the drinks run and had a little boogie beside me. She also got me my T-Shirt before my size sold out.

Annoyingly, being height-challenged I could get up onto the stool but it was still the right way to go. At concerts and Gigs I’m a wriggler as well as a light Head-Banger (Not the Heavy Metal kind) I’m not a dancer, even before my disability. Not after I found I could not do the Melbourne shuffle. Makes sense as I do have a Drop Foot.

Here is a link for the first song from my early club days in about ’92. Get ready for some Samples. This is in no way an advert for fast food, but still very catchy.

This song, I believe is German but translates as “I am a foreigner” You can look up what it’s about if you are interested. I travelled around the UK on my only overseas trip back in ’94 to this, good times.

This was their last song before they finished with a cover of the Prodigy paying homage to Keith Flint who passed away in 2019. Prodigy was also a huge influence in all the clubs I went to or worked for in the 90’s. 

It’s frustrating for me to need to explain to people who have only known me since my diagnosis and my disability that there was a different version of Helen, who experienced a different culture, lifestyle or had different social networks. That Helen is still inside me and is sassy, outspoken and won’t be pushed around. they just don’t want to be exposed to the great things that I experienced to appreciate this version of Helen they see today; they just want to stay with the normal and what they already know. Not learn anything new. 

Friendly reminder, while working in clubs I barely drank, never did party drugs, possibly the only reason I made it to 34 before learning of my AVM. My disability as I like to remind people is NOT SELF INFLICTED.

Was home by 1am, still had chores to do after my friend helped take off my shoes and my AFO (Ankle Foot Orthotic), needed a stiff cuppa T, a Bex and a good lie down. Oh, I’m a 50’s housewife.

I feel a bit like if I didn’t get the Plague Saturday night I’m bulletproof. Still not had it, still not complaining.

Now, late Monday night I’m still catching up so apologies for my delay. Lastly, Queen Elizabeth II, may she R.I.P. 

Follow Up – Older People’s Conversation

Published August 22, 2022 by helentastic67

Follow up – Older Peoples Conversations

I mentioned to a friend these were the conversations I’d been having plenty of. Rather than asking me what these “old and nonsense” conversations were about exactly, he told me I would have them one day.

So, I’ll allow you to pick from this next excerpt which three things qualify this as nonsense old people conversations.

Which I loved by the way because it gave me the perfect opportunity to tease him. Purely a statement.

“I made some brown rice the other day! It’s been about twenty years since I last made brown rice. It took ages! I’m never doing that again!”

Oh My God! Can you just feel that nonsense? It’s my jam. I have recently been making it more than I have in the last twenty years, I think because, while slow to the party, I discovered the rice cooker.

You know I insisted he get one but he’s still got it in the box and I now understand the old people thing about why they keep them in the box even after using it’s so they don’t forget all the bits and pieces that go with each gadget.

Is this what your “Old Person” does too?

Nonsense, Older Peoples Conversations

Published August 15, 2022 by helentastic67

Nonsense Older Peoples Conversation

Lately I’ve completely nailed how to get the most from my conversations with old people and if you want to know? Just keep reading…

In recent years I’ve timed my outreach calls to my father by booking it every two weeks. I call one fortnight and he is to call me the next. If he doesn’t, I will prompt him with a text… “Your turn!”

Recently, my beautician has mentioned she misses the nonsense old people conversations, so now I call him on speaker when I’m with her being tortured. It starts off dad being rather anxious. My beautician uses a few Italian words here and there which he often needs reminding what she is referring to. It’s a part of his memory he doesn’t use much. My beautician is often hungry as I’ll arrive too early and she has yet to eat.

She asks my dad if he’s had lunch? His response… “I had a sort of salad sandwich!” I hold up a finger to indicate for her to wait. She tells me to let him go. I interrupt him because I smell a rat, please define this word “sort of” and “salad?” I will cut to the chase, there was neither “sort of, nor salad”.

What he had was a very tasty sandwich which was fried chorizo on bread. A great treat I hope he’s not having every day.

Later in the conversation, beautician getting hungry enough to threaten to hit one of us; and not wanting it to be me, we stop talking food. We will mention this myth “sort-of-salad” in a teasing way and we all have a good laugh. In the end he usually tells us when he’s had enough. Beautician laughs and informs him he’s her favourite of my parents.

It’s turned out to be the highlight of my treatments. My torture is in the form of electrolysis to my face. Originally, it was to fix the damage from years on steroids for brain swelling, now it’s for my crazy hormones. I’m not going to be in the nursing home with a beard.

Lettuce – How much for an Iceberg?

Published August 8, 2022 by helentastic67

Lettuce – How much for an Iceberg?

Oh, Australia. Remember we had the fires, then yes, the plague thing, yeah, Melbourne has been through six lockdowns. I think Singapore is the only place that has lived through the same.

We struggled to get our hands on toilet paper and the term Karen was born. Did I mention, that was when I started a liver cleanse? Yeah, that’s right, ME, I made a one-off purchase of the dreaded home brand of Toilet Paper I can guarantee I’ll never revisit. The packaging claimed it was embossed. Um, it was Single Ply, I would have traded that little extra for another ply. Then, we’ve had floods, right.

Everyone caught up.

Now, we have the horrid prices and reboot of boring conversations about which lettuce is best and how much you need to pay to get one.

Seriously, it’s probably easier to get hard drugs. I was faced about a month ago with paying $13 for an iceberg lettuce. That’s my go-to. I had sent a new carer to grab me a lettuce while I got something else. She saw the price and called it out to me. I said “I’m sorry, what!” She repeated and another shopper came over to discuss this ridiculous notion. I recalled a newsworthy story I had seen and I told this other shopper. “Apparently KFC have started substituting cabbage for lettuce” He looked surprised. I told him… “I have to tell you I don’t eat their burgers for the lettuce!” I eat salad for my lettuce and I do like lettuce to be a staple in my crisper.

So, now I’m posting and bragging on social media I managed to get a lettuce the size off my head for $8.00. My last lettuce was down to a tiny heart and I wanted to list it on marketplace for $50 like when some smarty pants posted a Toilet Paper roll with its last two squares.

Lastly, I’ve been having plenty of nonsense old people conversations. But again, more of that later. Yes, it’s worthy of its own post and I haven’t written it yet. Next.

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