The Park Crescent Diary.

Entry Nº3

I don't like Mondays. They're a bloody waste of time. This one wasn't any different either. It's the same every week. There's only a small chemist in the village and if you don't get there early, they're sold out. I can think of a lot better ways to spend a Monday than queueing for a packet of incontinence pads. They say we all revert to infancy in our old age, but to be honest, I never planned on wearing nappies.

Old Arthur and Mrs Smith from around the corner both set off with their zimmer-frames at around half-past six. I watch them go while I'm eating my toast and then go and get dressed. Lucky for them the mornings are getting lighter so they can see where they're going. I don't worry too much about them getting there before me though. It takes Old Arthur two hours just to get to the end of the street and then he has to stop for a breather. I can normally overtake Mrs Smith on the way. As long as my bunions aren't playing up. If the chemist shut for lunch they'd never get there in time.

Last week Mrs Smith tried to block the path, so I elbowed her in the ribs as I passed. Silly old cow. It served her right when she fell arse-over-tit. Old Arthur nearly had a heart attack when he got a flash of her drawers. So did I to be honest. It was the first time I'd seen a woman of eighty five wearing a tanga. It was either that or her bloomers had got stuck up her crack.

To be honest, the Monday morning queue at the chemist can turn into a bit of a social gathering. Half the village is there. The only reason the other half of the village aren't there is because they go into town to get theirs from Boots - incognito. Silly buggers. As if we can't see then queueing at the bus stop and getting off with their bags bulging when they come back.

I normally take a folding chair and a Thermos flask with me. Mind you, I didn't bother to take the flask today. Supplies ran out on Saturday night and it wasn't worth the risk. Still, if I'm lucky, I'll get a couple of extra packets today. The chemist must've been expecting a rush. A Tena Lady container lorry was leaving the car-park when I got there.

Maisie was late and if she doesn't get any, well tough. I'm not lending her any of mine. She arrived half an hour after me and was twenty behind me in the queue. She kept shouting to try and get my attention, but I turned my hearing aid off and pretended I couldn't hear her.

I bought the Daily Mirror to read while I was waiting. What a waste of money. There wasn't one picture of Simon Cowell in it. Still the one above the bed looks lovely. I gave him a big, sloppy kiss this morning when I got up. Good job I looked in the bathroom mirror before I went out. My nose had gone black where the print had rubbed off.

I was sat in the queue, behind Stan from down the council houses. He was a twat when he was thirty two and old age hasn't changed him. Was he going on? Then again he always does. The rate of inflation, the politicians are wrecking the economy and the price of petrols gone up again. What the hell its got to do with him, I don't know. He really got on my nerves and I told him to sodding-well shut up. It doesn't matter if petrol goes up twenty pence a litre. He hasn't got a car. He rides a bloody push-bike.

I think I got his goat a bit because he told me not to be so rude. Then, can you believe this? He asked me if I was frustrated and did I want a good seeing too. Silly old fart. When he's man enough, I told him. Which will probably be never, because he's already pushing eighty-six.

I was lucky today, I managed to get a packet of extra absorbent. So I'm going to sit down, put my feet up, have a cup of tea and watch a DVD of Father Ted.