The Very Old Farmer has made such a rumpus about being removed from his home that the matron of the Maison d-Acceuil now drives him over to the village every morning. He's unloaded from the minibus and positioned, in his wheelchair, at the front door of his little farmhouse. From here he can see all the village comings and goings. The district nurse visits at noon and the 'meals on wheels' lady at one. As he's an old soldier the Ministry of Defence pays a lady to come and keep an eye on him. He finds this lady's supervision to be both irritating and unwanted. She's dispatched with the words '' If I needed the Gestapo to keep an eye on me I'd ask them myself ". He's collected by the matron at three. A pair of aluminium ramps enable him to maneuver himself into and out of the garden.
He waves to us as we pass. We spend an hour chatting about the price of wheat, the food in Sweden and variety of other unexpected things. He's particularly taken with a new pair of Velcro fastened slippers that he's been given. '' Would you like to try them ? They might suit you when I'm gone ". Angus politely declines the generous offer. Sophie is spoken to with the quiet intimacy of a man who is used to having dogs by his side. She sits transfixed knowing these sweet nothings are about her. Every so often she wanders off and explores his kitchen. The Very Old Farmer has been in the house since 1924 and if he had his way he'd be there still. He describes his health problems with a candour that is thankfully beyond both Sophie's and her masters linguistic understanding. We promise to come and see him tomorrow.
Sophie seems none the worse for her foray into The Very Old Farmers kitchen. Bob exudes contentment.
Absolutely no doubting it's high summer. The Moroccan ladies with their woven baskets are back at the morning market.
This article is rather lyrically written :
10 comments:
How lovely to see the Very Old Farmer in his proper place, in his comfortable slippers.
My dad had those slippers. I guess VOF is diabetic. Swollen feet, can't get into shoes, can't feel that shoes pinch and may cause sores that may cause amputation.
He is lucky to have so much care. My parents had excellent care, but it was hugely expensive and they had to rely on my brothers (as I'm on the opposite side of the ocean) to take them everywhere. Not so easy for guys with full-time jobs and families. France seems to do very well on aging in place. If that's what I'm shelling out to RSI for, then OK.
The VOF is indeed a darling is he not? The PONS seem to like him an awful lot and what more can be said than dogs are very insightful and are generally as a rule very patient and understanding. The PONS probably enjoy visiting the VOF as much as he enjoys and will await their ongoing visits. 2 Lovely PONS and 2 lovely owners.
I'm so pleased that the Matron can transport the VOF to his home every day and that you and the PONS can stop for a chat with him. He sould be an excellent resource for the Villiage History project - if Sophie will share what he tells her with you!
If the treatment the Very Old Farmer is getting is normal, then indeed the French do treasure their old folk more than many other countries. It must be a comfort for him to be able to go home, if only for a few hours each day, and chat to familiar faces. No doubt Sophie's forays into the kitchen are to make sure that there isn't the odd sausage or two lurking in the shadows !
Lovely to hear about the Very Old Farmer. Those are quite the slippers!!
This is cheering news about the Very Old Farmer. You might want to give a second thought to those slippers.
When the VOF offered you his slippers, It was an act of kindness and thanks, something that he could do for you. What a dear man. Love how he talks to Bob and Sophie.
It's a lovely system of caring for the elderly you have. Here it is warehousing, over medication , bedsores and death from pneumonia.
It's wonderful that the Old Farmer is allowed to spend his days keeping track of the Village goings-on.
Meant to say that the article link was most interesting. Thank you.
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