WARNING

Hello, Plumstead 4539

Caroline, I am really worried about Mummy. I think she’s losing it. I don’t even think she’s looking after herself properly. God only knows what she’s eating. Have you looked in her fridge lately? Well, you’ll get a shock. There’s nothing but a catering size pack of those dreadful fatty sausages. They aren’t even organic. And she’s started buying that gloopy pickle that pubs give you with your Ploughman’s.

I don’t know what you are on about, Louise. She seemed fine when I met her in town last week.

That’s not all - there are seven empty brandy bottles in the recycling.

So what? Perhaps she had a few friends round for a couple of drinks.

And what about her clothes? I swear they are all the charity shop leftovers. She looks like an ancient hippie. And purple really isn’t her best colour. It does absolutely nothing for her. After Gordon and I paid for her to get her colours done, she really should know better.

Well if she likes the things she wears, I can’t see the problem. Maybe the stripy shirt was a bit much with the red hat, but at least she looks cheerful.

But, Caroline, what about those silly satin shoes she wears all the time? They are so unsuitable. And they must have cost her a fortune.

It’s her money, Louise. After all she’s been through, surely she can spend her pension on what she wants. I think they are rather pretty shoes.

It’s not only me, you know. That woman from next door had a word when I was coming out of the gate. Apparently Mummy was in their front garden the other day, helping herself to the larkspur.

The old devil - I didn’t think she had it in her.

Caroline, you really must take this more seriously. I feel we should at least get her to the GP to let him check her over.

What for?

Because she just isn’t herself. She isn’t the Mummy we know. You know what happens to these elderly people. It all starts somewhere, and if families don’t spot the warning signs…

She’s still all there as far as I can see. She’s not that old either.

But what if she gets worse? She’s such an embarrassment. And Gordon says perhaps we ought to be thinking about taking out an enduring Power of Attorney, in case she isn’t managing her affairs sensibly. She must still have most of the money Daddy left.

You and Gordon should get out more, Louise. She’s just fine.

Really, Caroline, you are nearly as bad as she is.

Perhaps I am. Anyway, can’t talk any longer. I’m off to get my hair dyed green. Bye, Louise.

INSPIRED BY THE POEM ‘WARNING’ BY JENNY JOSEPH