Friendships are unpredictable, often made when you least expect, at least that’s what me and Leanne have in common…
My friends tell me, “You’re a softie! If you start that, you’ll be doing it all the time’. What that means is, as a local gardener, helping a frail lovely, wonderful pensioner by paying their electric bill, isn’t ‘a thing’. I simply can’t help it. And some of my customers aren’t elderly, they just need the help as the garden gets away from them.
Phone rings.
“My sink is blocked.” They say.
“Pardon?”
“My sink is blocked, I can’t sort it out…”
I’m already putting the phone down and in the car with a plunger. The bath I’m running can wait.
Next visit, “Hello, how are you?”
I say, “Would you like a cup of tea before I start?”
I can’t help it, and this is all because of my grandfather who I will tell you about further along.
Next visit, I say, “Would you like me to run a hoover round by your feet, you can’t sit there like that can you?”
Gets hoover out, gets kettle on and then starts on the garden.
Next visit, I text and say, “Will be over in ten minutes to cut your lawn.”
“I’ll get the kettle on dear, how lovely it will be to see you…”, they say.
You see, I have an incredibly close bond with my Grandad who turned 99 years old this last June. I have this affinity with the elderly, to sit and listen, to laugh, to understand their needs, understand what matters to them and to know that a listening ear and a friendly smile can mean more than cutting a lawn, it’s company. It’s caring and it means they’re not forgotten about. My Grandad is fortunate enough to still live on his own, cooks for himself, makes his bed, watches sports, chats to people on the phone when he fancies a gossip, goes to church and sings with the music full blast so the neighbours can hear him. He has taught me to embrace the small stuff, be glass half-full rather than half-empty, and enjoy a chat with a good cup of tea.
I’m incredibly lucky, that I have good relationships with my customers:
“When would you like a cup of tea?” they say.
“Half time?”, I say?
And it is then, that we sit together, with a plate of biscuits (often on the prettiest most delicate fragile plate you’ve ever seen) putting the world to rights and listening to them tell me about who they were once, before this, before they couldn’t manage, before they couldn’t stand for long, before they lost their loved ones, before they became overwhelmed and how happy they are for the help.
I have unblocked sinks, run a hoover round, taken their glass to the recycling, bought a packet of bacon (for a much wanted bacon sandwich) as well as, buying a pint of milk as they have ran out and won’t have a cup of tea for me at half time. I have taken magazines to them in respite when they needed rest and recouperation, called ambulances when they have fallen and have sat and listened with wide eyes and a full heart, listening to a life of past adventures, of past loves, past lives and photos of what the garden looked like when it was in it’s prime (no pressure).
I have gardened, mown the lawn, weeded the borders, painted decking and put in the effort with as much love as if they were my own family, as if it were my own Grandad. Just so long as tea and biscuits are involved…
Leanne :)
