I am sitting here in my nightie and dressing gown, putting off the evil moment when I must go and get washed and dressed.

Once  that happens I have to join in the real world and do domestic things and computer things and make a shopping list of all the things that we forgot when we did shopping yesterday.

When really I am quite happy sitting here, visiting the real world through the computer screen and filling the keyboard with toast crumbs.

From here I can nurse my creaky back, and exercise my fingers.

When I was 14 at school they taught us all how to touch type.  The offered career choices were, hairdresser, typist or factory, unless of course you aspired to staying on and doing exams and going to Uni.

Staying on wasn’t an option, and I tried all of the other suggestions and failed dismally but the good thing about the 1950/60’s was that there were plenty of jobs about and even with a touch typing speed of minus there were jobs to be had, and I had a little go at everything and decided that the only real option left was to marry a millionaire.

A short-lived plan, Millionaires were few and far between where I came from and then I met and married my Other Half and have worked ever since.

Some politician or other has suggested that burden-some Pensioners could work in the fields, harvesting fruit and veg!  I am not sure which stone he crawled out from under but what with my bad back I would like to be excused.  However,  my touch typing speed is much better now perhaps I could type invoices until the Dementia kicks in.

Just a thought!

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