♫♪♫ It's Wednesday again ♫♪♫ [to the tune of Supertamp's "It's Raining Again"]

Ooh, I am bored.

How bored?  I started cleaning the house.  I am tidying up my room and getting back on with sorting out the back room.  Here's the thing.  I have nothing to do.

This is one of the problems of living near Eastbourne.  Nothing happens here.  Well unless you like watching old people failing to drive.  Or park.  But today I noticed something about Eastbourne's old people that had never occurred to me before that trumped the pensioners genuinely awful lack of road skills.

Now I have over the years become a bit of an anti-smoker.  The reason, well chemotherapy three years ago in Brighton.  All the lovely poisoning took place at the Royal Sussex as an in-patient, in the Howard ward, on the ground floor at the front of the building, in the summer.  (Yes, very interesting Jym, get on with it)  Note, not the illness, the treatment.  Because when I went through it, it was hot and the windows were open onto the small car park out the front where people used to smoke in front of a cancer ward whilst paying for the parking tickets.  Of course the smokers doing this were actively ignoring all the "no smoking" signs and the added stink of carcinogens wafting in through the window, well you can imagine some of the choice and rather ripe terms I came up for these unloveable selfless people.  Thanks for sharing.  The result, I hate smoking.

(Yes Jym, we get the message.  What's this to do with old people?)

Since the no smoking law came in people smoke outdoors.  (Yes, we know.  Unless we don't.  Look get on with it!)  I personally think there should be areas where you cannot smoke outside.  For example a certain distance from doorways, especially pubs and other licensed premises.  Certain parts of town centres being another example.  You get the gist.  Nothing annoys me more, especially now, and it'll get worse as the chemo treatment goes on, when people happily walk along the road and share their tobacco smoke with me.  So nice of them, by the way, but I'd prefer they shared the contents of their bank accounts instead.

(Old people Jym, old people!  Get to the old people, waffle boy.)

So what's this got to do with old people?  (At last, honestly!)  What I noticed was how many people in at least their 70s smoke in Eastbourne.  Once upon a time you never saw geriatrics smoking.  Maybe they quit or more likely they all died.  The occasional oldie, but not many.  Today, I swear, I saw at least a dozen.  No more blue rinse hairdos, now it is Marlboro Red and a pension book.  What a fantastic role model!  Trouble is, you can't run up to them and ask these people to stop.  The conversation would go something like this.

Me:  "Please stop smoking, old person.

OAP:  "I'm sorry dear, my hearing aid is turned off"  [OAP turns on hearing aid]

Me:  "Stop that smoking."

OAP:  "How dare you!  I died in the war for you."

Me:  "But you're still alive."

OAP:  "And smoking, you young whipper-snapper, now be off before I beat you with my Zimmer frame."  [OAP starts waving Zimmer frame in the air much like a weapon]

[Jym exits stage left pursued by bear, sorry, pensioner]

Suddenly staying at home cleaning and sorting things out seems like a better thing to do.

Jym

Oh, and please, share this if you like.  I hope you enjoy reading it.  Apologies to my smoking friends.