Lesson learnt!

Young long legged in Palazzo pants

‘Life’s too good to be true. Everything is just as I like it,’ Ida declared. Her cheeks flushing, she raised her bent elbows with open hands, emphasising each elaboration: ‘My routine. The pool. The house. The garden.’

Alistair could not contain himself, ‘Well, don’t brag about it. You know what happened to the old Greeks?’

Both continued in a singsong, ‘If they became too boisterous and bragged about their exploits, the gods would strike them.’

Ida pouted, ‘Do you need to remind me?’

‘No. Only repeating your words whenever I get any accolades.’

‘Touché.’ 

In a tone, momentarily dampened, Ida put a ‘Nouvelle Vague’ disc into the Bose, placed the onions onto an oval-shaped cutting board, and started to chop with rising vigour.

Alistair opened the fridge door. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

‘G&T would do nicely, thanks.’ Scraping the diced pieces into a salad glass bowl, she added, ‘Oh, and another slice of lime.’

Between cutting garlic, broccoli, capsicum, nuts, and dates, she raised her right arm.

She’s on a roll. I know what that means. Alistair maintained his calm, sitting cross-legged on the bar stool, tinkling ice cubes and looking at Ida over his round-framed metal glasses. Here we go.

‘You know, Anna and Ralph are off to Greece next week? Well, I’ve invited them over for afternoon tea on Thursday. Anna is not very well, but they hope she’ll recuperate in her old country.’

‘Hmm.’

‘She always raves about my famous beer cake, so I thought, why not bake one? A kind of farewell gesture.’

‘Good idea. That way, I get to taste some of my favourites, too.’

‘Oh, you poor deprived darling.’  She caressed his right cheek with her garlic-soaked thumb. Ignoring his nostril discomfort and raising her arm in familiar fashion, she continued, ‘That’s the beauty of retirement, the big R. You can entertain whenever you want, even mid-week.’

‘Wouldn’t want it any other way, darling. Though, I could do with less garlic exposure.’

She disregarded the latter nonchalantly, ‘As I said, life’s pretty good.’

Alistair opened a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, Ida brought out the plates, and the couple settled comfortably in front of the TV, in time for the seven-o’clock news. 

The next night, after a busy day, socialising, catching up on emails, bills and stitching the lining of a black and white summer jacket, Ida realised with alarm what day it was. Hm, better bake that cake tonight. If I do it tomorrow, it’ll be too crumbly. She devoted herself to the task with her usual gusto and finished with Cheshire cat satisfaction. Alistair’s snoring had assumed its rhythmic routine when she got into bed. 

Thursday morning. Another bonus of the big R - you have time to ponder What to wear? I know! The flowing, long, multi-coloured Palazzo pants. When I wear them, I feel really good. They are ever so stylish. Smart. Elegant. I feel like a young, long-legged girl—LLG, I like it. And don’t I have a few of these palazzos? Black, green, red. Age hasn’t got anything to do with it. I’ll wear’em with panache. Haha, Ida in PP. Perfecto.

Ida rushed to the shops to get some cream and lemons for the Madeleines. Of course, you never buy just two items, especially after Aldi’s Wednesday specials. No need to panic, I’ve got heaps of time, Ida mused while perusing the aisles for bargains. Pleased with her purchases, she elegantly glided into her trusty Hyundai and drove home.

Eager to complete the final tasks of baking and beating the cream, Ida grabbed her handbag, shopping bag and keys to lock her vehicle. Not to waste time, she turned to press the button for the roller door; alas, her legs, feet, knees, trousers—whatever—got caught, and she crashed mightily onto the concrete floor. Ouch! Ouch! That really hurts.

Ida lay for a while on her right side, the excruciating pain penetrating her bones. This time, I’ve done it. Those damn palazzo pants are definitely not meant for an old woman thinking she is a young LLG. What to do? I can’t even move to ring Alistair. Damn. Did anybody see me? Apparently not.

After a couple of minutes, Ida managed to get herself off the hard floor. Still clinging to her various bags with her left hand, she managed to lower the garage door and enter the house. What am I going to do now? Ring Alistair!

‘Alistair, are you free?’

‘My darling, what happened?’

‘Had a fall.’

‘I’m on my way. Be there in a sec.’

Alistair burst through the kitchen door and gasped, ‘What happened?’

‘Tripped in those damn palazzo pants. As soon as you help me out of them, they go into the bag for the Salvos. And not just this one, all of them, black, green, red and pink - if I had any! Shouldn’t have deluded myself being youthful.’

‘Oh, my darling. Has that got anything to do with the gods?’

‘You might well ask.’

‘What else can I do?’

‘That’s all, really. If it weren’t for Anna and Ralph leaving next week and her fragile state, I’d cancel today.’

‘Is there anything I can do?’

‘I’ll think about it. Look, I can sort of lift my arm.’

‘Have a glass of cold water,’ he gently caressed her silver-grey curls. ‘Let me know if you need me.’ He returned to his workshop.

Somehow, Ida beat the cream and the batter not only for the Madeleines but also for the biscuits. She pushed herself to set the table, thinking, I wouldn’t do it for anyone else, but Anna really needs love and cheering. Though, I’d do it for my Ali-darling.’

The guests arrived, and bar one all had a pleasant afternoon, indulging in delicious baked goods and reviving memories of years gone by. Ida hid her swelling pain well.

Anna and Ralph had barely left when Ida asked Alistair to take her to the doctor. The doctor suspected a fractured elbow and suggested a trip to the hospital emergency room. By now, it was six o’clock.

Hours later, an X-ray confirmed the fracture, but the hand was too swollen to detect a break conclusively. Ida realised that the foreseeable future would be devoted to visits to the fracture clinic and the physiotherapist. When Alistair drove home, she dejectedly uttered, ‘Everything is definitely NOT the way I like it.' Sighing deeply, she muttered: 'So much for life being too good to be true.’