’Cos you are never too old

The world needs an Old Lady Shop, one that sells nightdresses, foolproof cellphones, books without swearing, royalty memorabilia and soap boxes. Or I needed an Old Lady Shop last week, a week in which I bought not one, not two but 11 nightdresses. (I never did find a soap box though.)

My mother-in-law, who is 90 and delightful and impossible, had yet another fall. She fractured her pelvis, so now she’s in hospital.

She phoned me late on Monday afternoon, requesting that when I came in the next day I brought her two new nightdresses, not newly laundered, but brand-new from the shops.

What sort of nightdresses, I asked, fool that I am.

“One in peach and one in mint,” she said, “with three-quarterlength sleeves. Long ones. Pretty, with frills.”

I almost said: “Could you be more specific?”

Instead, I asked where I might purchase such wonders, not adding what I was thinking: where indeed? At close of business on the evening before I visit, when I have a hectic morning looming ahead of me.

She named a shop on the other side of town, which possibly sold such attire back in 1965 when she last bought them, but certainly doesn’t now.

So I raced to the mall at closing time, hoovering up nighties that might make the cut: pink with short sleeves; pink and green floral with long sleeves; long-sleeved purple floral; two checked nightshirts that I coveted for myself; then, in desperation, two T-shirtstyle nighties, one with Snoopy on it, one covered in hearts because it’s nearly Valentine’s Day.

She selected three – the pink, the purple floral and the pinkmint floral – and I returned the rest (except for the nightshirts because I still coveted them).

On Thursday, she phoned again.

Would I get two more nightdresses, please – like the pretty pink one because it’s shortsleeved and the hospital is hot. Except in different colours? What on earth was going on? Back to the mall I rushed, getting four more, and I took my coveted nightshirts in again, too. She selected those, plus one of the new ones, and gave me back three to return.

“Any news from the doctor?” I asked.

“Mohammed?” She sighed blissfully. “He’s so good-looking. If I was 55 years younger...”

Perhaps the Old Lady Shop could also sell lingerie.