A gift from my son was a visit to the Hard Rock Cafe for lunch and then onto a show at The Crazy Coq in London. I’d never been to the Hard Rock Cafe before and it was one of the places I’d always wanted to go. It was amazing and that was an understatement, but it made me realise something and it hit me hard.
So we went by taxi. That was a story in itself. Our driver must have had a death wish. Nice enough man but every time he stopped at a set of traffic lights both Jack and I nearly shot over the top of hit and went through the windscreen. He got us there so early we hit a cafe for a cup of tea and coffee. Well I ended up with a cup of hot chocolate with orange flavour. Very nice with it was a fight to the death to get a seat but somehow we managed it. We then managed a short walk to the Hard Rock Cafe. What suddenly hit me was this wasn’t MY London any more. Even though we go there by taxi to things like Guild events – this wasn’t. Maybe it was the time of year? A singer who was charging something like £5 a time to hear him sing in the street. In my day they were buskers who sang for nothing. You couldn’t walk on the pavement for people. It was packed.
Anyway we got to the Hard Rock Cafe. You had to walk through their shop. Fair enough and we asked where the Cafe was. Over came a man and said you have to go up Three Flights of Stairs Sir. He took one look at me and saw I was using a Walking stick due to my back problem.
Wait Sir – the Lady won’t manage the stairs. Let me call you both the Lift. We have a lift for people who can’t manage the stairs.
Such kindness – but then it hit me and it hit hard. Suddenly I’m old and a lady who can’t manage the stairs any more and has to have a lift called for her. I felt totally humiliated.
The Hard Rock Cafe was absolutely brilliant. Except for the food. I’ve never seen so much food in my entire life. Both Jack and I had to give up after the main course. The Music was rock and you would expect but what I wasn’t expecting was that not only did I remember every song, I remembered what I was doing when every song was played! Some of it was very embarassing I can tell you!!!
Plus they also take requests if there is a certain song that means something special to you from the past.
Anyway it was then onto the Crazy Coq. We’ve been there before. I’d say it was a bit like a seedy joint but a lot better? Once again though because there we stairs that I couldn’t manage, I had to be shown to a lift. Such a kind and lovely man ensured that I was comfortable though. We were shown to our table and found a lovely pot of smoked popcorn waiting for us and ordered a Cocktail and various people arrived and like everything there were a mix of people. There was the lady with the voice you could cut class with who had obviously had a few too many drinks before she arrived and was determined that everyone was going to listen to her and hand over their camera so she could take their picture. Then the show started which was one man who sang Christmas songs, and told a few jokes and got us all singings which was really enjoyable.
The journey back though was an absolute nightmare. We came out and were going to get a taxi home. Well that was the idea until Jack tried and found that he couldn’t get a signal on his phone and most taxi drivers don’t like coming South of the River Thames because they can’t pick up another Fare. Anyway after much trying, and panicking about how we were going to get home, we did finally make it back to the peace and safety of our own house.
All things considered it had been an absolutely brilliant day but it made me realise something very painful. My back is never going to be the same again. I’m almost 71 now. I’ve been given pain control by my GP. I have to use it and not pretend that I don’t need it. I have to use Disabled Toilets now because their facilities are easier for me to use. I have to accept that I can’t stand in queues. I have to try to find a seat and if I can’t find one I have to ask someone to find me something to sit on .
However, I also have to remember that things could be a lot worse for me. I could have something like cancer and I should always be grateful for that.
So who am I going to look to for my “Inspiration” and stop me from sliding into a pit of Depression that I can’t pull myself out of?
There can only be one person for me. The Amazing Dame Maggie Smith from Downton Abbey. When I am finally leaving this world – which I hope won’t be for many years yet – I intend saying her words – if I am able to speak my final words that is!
“Be quiet – I can’t hear myself die!”
Carol Yeomanson Books 