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Thursday, 8 January 2015

Repulsion

I had a tin of Sainsbury's "Beef and Vegetable" soup for lunch today: it was nice -warming and filling. But it got me thinking. Is this the start of the slippery slope into senility?

First you find you can't be bothered to cook a proper meal: and that tin of soup is so handy. Why put in on the hob: you might spill it or burn yourself so why not zap it in the micro-wave. Next you think  "as I'm having a cuppa, I might as well boil up enough water for a packet of soup." In no time it's Pot Noddle for lunch, tea and dinner, the only differentiation is in the limited flavours available.

Those ads on the telly featuring Ronnie Corbet and the nice lady who greets the delivery man at the door with her ready cooked meals: that's tempting. Saves a lot of effort and they look very tasty. She doesn't look as if she starves.

Packets of sweet digestives, soft cheese; so as not to over stress the teeth; grapes, again with teeth in mind, that would be exceptionally convenient and easy. No cooking whatsoever. Very little washing up and if I buy paper plates and plastic knives etc. I can even dispense with that. Afters may be a bit of a problem: but a tin of custard or tinned fruit will see me through.

But I still have to go out shopping: I mean I not as fit or as strong as I used to be. It's so cold and damp out - at my age a cold could be fatal. I can't rely on the neighbours but I can order on line, as long as I remember my passwords.

Getting up out of bed is becoming a bit of a chore. Stiff legs and back in the mornings and it takes me an age to get going. Then once I've completed my toilet I have to go down stairs to the kitchen or watch the TV. Going to bed is equally traumatic. Wouldn't it be better if I moved my bed downstairs, into the kitchen, next to the fridge. I wouldn't have to get out of bed at all and if I organised matters right I could have all my food at arms length. I'd still occasionally have to leave the bed to answer the call of nature and occasionally  wash myself. As I'd be eating soft food or soups it wouldn't matter if I didn't have any teeth so I could dispense with brushing them.

People would phone me so I'd have that by my bed, sitting on a shelf in the fridge since that would be my "centre of operations". With the TV where the back door used to be, I'd be completely happy. Except, occasionally people might call at the front door. So I'd brick that up; removing another source of possible disturbance.

I'd have to cancel the phone and possibly the gas and electricity: I couldn't have them trying to disturb me to read the meter.

Yes, I think that's it. It's amazing what buying one tin of soup can lead to.

5 comments:

Steve said...

Have no fear. There is only a danger in buying tinned soup if you settle for it long term. My betting is you'd be bored within the week and crying out for a homemade beef wellington. You ain't over the hill just yet, sir.

Jack the Hat said...

I went down hill years ago mate. It was meals on wheels what did it for me.

MrandMrs said...

We are concerned about your plight. Writers need nutrition! Starving in garrets is for youngsters

Bojo said...

I am sure there is plenty of lead left in your pencil

Barry Coidan said...

Thank you all for your kind words of concern and support. It brings tears to my old rheumy eyes.

Today I'll be mostly trying Sainsbury's Lentil and Tomato soup.

Sorry to hear that JtH.