THere’s an old woman who lives next door, her hair is different shades of blonde and she walks with a stick. She doesn’t go out to work so she must be old, I think they’re called pensioners, her name is Mrs Wilson. Sometimes I post a letter for her or bring some bread from the shop, she usually gives me two shillings. I don’t know her Christian name but she always calls me Margaret, its actually my sister’s name but she gets us mixed up, my name is Pam. Margaret used to do some shopping for her, she’s busy with her college work so now I do the shopping.
Mrs Wilson is pretty small, I’m as tall as she is and I’m only eleven. Mum says I’m growing out of my clothes far too quickly. The old lady’s skirts almost reach to her ankles, she told me one day her bones are shrinking. I’m not sure if that’s true, I think when you reach your full height you stay the same height till you die. Mum said she must be in her seventies, we’ve lived here sixteen years and Mrs W. has always been a Pensioner. Yesterday’s news said there are more and more pensioners and its costing the country a lot of money to keep them. Perhaps we should put them all in the Workhouse, in history the teacher told us, along time ago, nearly a hundred years, when people were too ill or too old to work they had to go into the workhouse. It was horrible just a bed in a room full of beds and no private space at all. I would hate it! In my room I have my computer, my mobile and my books and I do pretty much anything I want to do. Its MY SPACE!!!
I have been a teacher and a lecturer for a number of years. I am married with two sons. I'm interested drama, films, TV, books, society in general, poverty and riches and political systems.
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