Future Shock

Coming back from the shops just now, my path was blocked by eight ancient women. They staggered towards me, each one supported - or propelled - by her own glittering zimmer frame, complete with a little set of wheels (possibly those 'little fidget wheels' Kenneth Slessor was talking about [see here]). Although the effort was considerable, they all gave me a cheery greeting and three or four made a brave stab at a smile. I returned their friendliness and then continued my journey, trying to forget the image of lipstick-flecked dentures and rouge daubed wrinkles - and my growing fear about the years to come and what they have in store for me.