Passing Time

Little old ladies stooped over trays, at the garden centre caff, where they spend their days purchasing tranklements, considered slightly naff. Everythings game from gnomes to pomander that remind them of their mothers, that are placed upon shelves,with yet more elves along with all the others. The lucky ones, with husbands, still shuffling behind, attracting envious glances from the ones with lives less kind. They sit and eat their cucumber sandwiches and sip their Earl Grey teas, twin set and pearls and purple rinsed curls, and painful, arthritic knees. Then out to their Motability cars with their plastic gnomes and honey in jars, back to suburbia or their lonely flat, with its chintz drapes and sofa and marmalade cat.