As a live-in carer, you meet all types, especially the visitors.
Here is one of my favourites.
The ‘ Ooh, is it lunchtime?’ visitor.
Arrives at 12.50
You open the door.
She sniffs appreciatively
‘Ooh is it lunchtime?’
The sole occupant of the house is 91 and has eaten lunch at 1 pm for all of her adult life so…YES!
I have never had the guts to just shut the door at this point…tempting though it is.
‘Who is it?’ says the frail voice already eagerly at the table, napkin tucked into the Italian silk blouse ( has to be hand washed…I digress)
‘Oh don’t want to disturb you. Only popping in. I have a brought a yoghurt. I will sit at the end of the table.’
I serve up TWO ample portions.
Chicken in white wine and tarragon sauce, sauté potatoes, carrots and green beans.
The 91 year old squirms as she wrestled with her conscious.
Should she offer her ‘friend’ newly retired and only rocks up when a new carer arrives…
some of her lunch or not?
I have no such qualms. I know this type.
Serial sponger in Barbour and green wellies.
The 91 year old compromises.
‘Sorry we don’t have enough for you but next time if you ring me earlier…’
At which point I interject.
‘Yep. You should have phoned and I could have done extra.’
I give her my most disingenuous smile.
When there is a regular carer she doesn’t appear.
‘You want a spoon for that yoghurt?’ I say, stuffing my mouth full of chicken.
Genuine smile from me this time.