It was a typical Saturday morning. I drove George to his golf course. I then drove home, picked up granny and drove to Olive’s house, where I washed Olive and granny under the shower. I wash Florence sometimes, but she is usually on duty at the hospital. And sometimes friends of Olive and granny, but only women.
I usually start by soaping everything from the neck down and then washing every part with a face flannel or a sponge. Some parts need only the hands, some parts must be washed multiple times. The head and the hair can be quite complicated.
I rinse, I dry, I crème, I make chocky‑coffee, the girls sit around in white-towelling gowns and watch the morning show on TV.
We meet George for lunch at the golf clubhouse. George was late (an extra nine holes) and the girls drank highballs.
I drove home. In the distance I could see a large pink elephant bouncing along the road towards me. I stopped the car, George took a handgun out of the glove compartment and got out of the car. He walked towards the elephant and shot it. The elephant deflated and landed in the ditch by the side of the road. George got back into the car. “There’s too many of these things in this part of the world.” And I drove home.