sneaky peaks

a grandson's guide to geriatric spying

When I arrived on Sunday, my nanny wasn't there.

She was at a special service at the little, seldom used church up the road. Her church. The church with the stained glass window dedicated to my granddad and his brother.

It was a special day. She’d stayed out for a long time. Three hours! Thats a big day for me in my fifties. If I were her age? I’d have been pooped.

Without time for tea, I tried stopping in for a quick hi hello, on my way through.

She was home by then.

I pulled up to the house and crept up to the door. There she was clad in her red bathrobe, slumped over with her arm on the arm rest and her chin on her hand. Her teeth were on the table. The tee vee was blaring.

And my nanny?

She was sound asleep.

I peered in for a little while.

The whole experience reminded me of looking in on my children when they were infants.

shhhhh I thought, she’s had a big day… wouldn’t want to wake her…

Right?

I turned and left with a grin. I rationalized for a bit: She’s had enough excitement for the …