Little Old Ladies

So having spent the last few days in the mountain in southern Italy, you would think I should be able to take care of myself. I mean, I trekked up to the summit of a nearby peak, found my way to places of historical interest, cooked and cleaned…even managed some DIY too, but my neighbour still thought it necessary to come around every morning with a bag full of provisions and a freshly made cup of strong Italian coffee!

I was tempted to insist this wasn’t really necessary as I am a grown man after all, however it seemed to give her great delight or she just thought I’m a bit of a no hoper…so I let it pass and she dutifully brought me my coffee every morning.

There is something quite special about nice little old ladies, as opposed to horrible mean ones which is much rather forget. They are there to remind us all that we don’t know everything and simply being nice and kind will build the strongest of bridges too.

I stay in a very isolated place, well apart from this neighbour…and another a few hundred yards away. At night it is blacker than blacked in the day you can hear the faint sound of workers from a free miles away as their voices are carried and reverberate around the valley below and into the mountains.

Little old ladies who live in this area are relatively good humoured, hard working but will always lend a hand to those who seek it..and will always offer opinion even when it is not sought.

I learned many years ago not to push back against this wisdom and simply roll with the punches. However there would never be any need to push back against such a generous offer either…in truth it was a nice touch having my morning coffee brought to me but I also wager she enjoyed the company too.

Somebody to talk to can be just the tonic that many people need. How many times have we heard about old people who are left alone and lonely only to wish for someone to talk to?

Perhaps I was merely that person to talk to that she needed and I was happy to be so too. Some decent conversations, some innocent banter and potentially a few history lessons thrown in too.

As I left I thought that I would miss the mountains but hi would miss the mountain life even more so…and the little old lady who brought me coffee every morning too.

Now I’ll have to make my own coffee and can only talk to myself in the morning. Perhaps soon I’ll be the ageing one who will need some company and somebody to talk too…perhaps I’ll be making coffee for my new neighbour too…or perhaps not…the lazy scrote can make their own.

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