Day I forgot my car still drives me mad

"Some of the residents are going on their annual day out," she explained, "and I could do with an extra pair of hands to help them on and off the mini buses."

"Yes, no problem." I replied, happy to help.

"I'll take the day off work. It'll be a nice for to do something different."

On arrival at Larch Grove housing complex in Cumbernauld, I was met by some of the residents who were looking forward to their day out.

Some could manage by themselves, but a few had Zimmer frames and some had walking sticks, which meant they needed assistance to get up the high steps on to the mini-bus.

On arrival at Cumbernauld Town Hall the ladies were ready for tea and scones. This was followed by a visit to another part of the town hall to chat to the various groups attending, including the police and fire service.

Live entertainment was then followed by residents' karaoke and a raffle.

Everyone, including me, was having a great time and I was thoroughly enjoying the banter from around our table.

But, chatting with the ladies, some seemed concerned that they were starting to forget things and that perhaps their memory was failing somewhat.

"That's three times this week that I've forgotten my pin number," said Mary.

"Three times?" I laughed. "That's nothing."

But Mary seemed unconvinced.

"Mary, I'm younger than all of you and not so long ago I rushed out of the office at 5 o'clock and headed to the train station."

The ladies were intrigued.

"Nothing unusual about that … except that, as I stepped off the train, the penny dropped and I realised I had taken my car to work that day, and in fact, my car was still in the car park back in Glasgow!"

The ladies chuckled as I continued. "I couldn't believe I had actually forgotten my car!"

"What did you do then," asked Cathie?

"I phoned my dad and said, 'Is there any chance you could run me back into Glasgow?'"

"'What for?' he asked.

"I've forgotten my car.

"'What!" he yelled down the phone. "'Your car! I've heard of people forgetting their shopping, but never their car'."

So thank you to the lovely residents of Larch Grove for letting me join in their day out.

I don't know where they get their energy from, which reminded me of a saying by Bob Hope.

'I'll tell 'ya how to stay young: Hang around with older people.'

The following Sunday afternoon I was with my friends and filling them in on my day with the ladies when Mae chipped in.

"I remember when my mum Isobel was in a care home. She loved it so much she never seemed to want to leave the home," she said.

"Really?" we all asked.

"She seemed so content and loved it when the beaut­ician would visit and give her a manicure and a hairdo," Mae went on.

"Every Sunday, I would offer to take her for a drive in the car. But she was having none of it."

"And why was that?" said Christine looking puzzled. But Mae wasn't going to be interrupted in full flow.

She continued unabated: "Then, after much persuasion she reluctantly agreed for me to pick her up and drive her to meet friends she hadn't seen for ages."

"Och, you were a good daughter," I said.

"Em … well. I did my best," she replied.

"You see it was a gorgeous sunny day and as we were driving along, my mobile, which was in my handbag at my mum's feet, began to ring so I asked her to see if she could bend over and fish it out of my handbag.

"But somehow, the poor soul got the strap of the bag wrapped around her ankle."

"Sounds like she got into a bit of a fankle," I said. "Poor thing."

So Mae continued: "Stupidly, while I was still driving, I tried to bend over to unwrap the handbag strap … and as I did, my car swerved and hit a bollard."

"Oh no," we gasped collectively. We were frightened to ask, but we did anyway: "Were you both okay?"

"Yes, absolutely fine," said Mae .

However, apparently poor Isobel, who was shaking like a leaf, was just happy to be back in her room at the care home.

We gasped with relief that they were both safe, no thanks to Mae's driving.

A few moments later Mae excused herself to go off to the toilet and we quickly came to the conclusion that perhaps poor Isobel, having experienced years of her daughter's erratic driving, had some very good reasons to be reluctant to leave the sanctity of her care home.