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Be careful what you wish for!”

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Shirley was in the slough of despond! She had weathered a series of crisis; the death of her brother, the emigration of a dear friend, a broken hip, and now the immanent loss of her old home! It was a series that her granny would have described as “like a queue of devils. One damned thing after another”!

The prospect of soon moving into a care home evoked a mixture of emotions, some of which were quite pleasant. The hope of acquiring a new audience to benefit from her vast store of experience (and perhaps wisdom) appealed to her. The alleviation of the recently creeping loneliness would be a blessing. But the looming task of clearing the house of its lovingly accumulated clutter, THAT she dreaded!

Shirley’s friend Irene was at her wit’s end! She had tried everything she could think of to break the pattern of doldrums, and feared that the habit of gloom might become permanent. As they were returning to Shirley’s home from a fultile day of “retail therapy”, she silently offered up a desperate prayer – “Lord, you will have to do something!”

A shock awaited them. As they opened the front door – gasp! horror! – “You’ve been burgled!” cried Irene. (Actually, being Scottish, she pronounced it BURRAGGULLED).

“Let’s make a cup of tea.” And there, in the kitchen, the floodgates opened. Even the kettle had been nicked! Streams of tears ran down both their faces. Tears of laughter! It was all so surreal. No need to worry about sorting the clutter now, the burraggullars had done it for them.

As Irene’s mother used to say – “Be careful what you wish for!”

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