Priscilla has been unwell. So much so that I had to stop using her. She would not cooperate at all I live at the top of quite a steep drive and I need her brakes to work perfectly, which they weren't doing. Various friends have had her out at the top of the drive and looked wisely at her, twiddled a few wheels and said there was nothing to be done - she needed to go back for repair. So yesterday I rang the Rollator Repair Doctor. I spoke to his Receptionist who listened carefully and then remarked that she needed a Home Visit. Could he call this morning?
Could he call this morning? I'll say! I immediately cancelled my hair appointment. I steeled myself for the worst possible news - she would have to go away for an operation.
He turned up on time, twiddled a few wires and handed her over to me. 'Here you are - try her now' (I had told him her name was Priscilla) - Perfect. What had he done? ' Adjusted her brakes'- 'happens to them all as they get older' he said. (Doesn't it happen to us all?) How would he know to do that? "I used to be a car mechanic"!!
Priscilla's chest swelled with pride. She always knew she was special but 'a Car'? Not sure I dare take her out again.