Eccentric. Like Eppie Buist. Conceived under a canoe, she was a terror to nannies and governesses alike. She grew up to be a dog breeder and reckless car-driver extraordinaire (she had a penchant for running into road signs), and finished up by going gliding, aged 96.
“In old age Eppie Buist cut her own hair with kitchen scissors, wore cheap Japanese boots (a new pair purchased each year from the Sunlight catalogue) and brandished a walking stick hung round her neck with knicker elastic. [Knickers, for you Americans out there, are underpants.] Her recipe for a long life was to eat lashings of cream, keep fudge in the car and consume a jar of ginger snaps on the way to church.”
According to one 90+ year old friend of mine, once you hit 90 you can be as eccentric as you’d like, and nobody bothers you about it. I’m sincerely looking forward to getting old. Mind you, I’m eccentric enough as it is. But the part where nobody bothers you about it - that I’m looking forward to.
Excepted from Eppie Buist’s obituary in the Telegraph.