The Last Furlong

Comments on the race of life.

Oh dear, ‘dear”

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I don’t know what happened in my past, but I cannot stand the term “my dear”. I didn’t like it when I was little. I didn’t like it when I was young. I didn’t like it when I was middle-aged.

But now I’m old, I positively hate it!

“My dear” is patronising. “Dear” is patronising.

To whom am I dear? Not to the receptionist, the  taxi driver, the nurse, the shop assistant, the bank teller, or any other stranger. I forbid anyone in my family to call me dear.

And my friends never have.

THEY know I’m  not a dear  – I’m just a grumpy old lady, grouchy, irritable and sharp-tongued.

And honest.

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Author: thelastfurlong

I'm someone also pounding the Path, just like you.. I'm retired, going into Old Age and loving my life. I'm hoping to remain happy and well for as long as possible. Old Age is not SO bad - yet!

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