A Borreltje

Ten years ago M and I visited his grandmother in Holland for one week as our gift to her for her 90th birthday. Every evening, after a day of sightseeing or visiting family, we would return in time to enjoy a 'borreltje' with Ouma: cashews, cheese, crackers and a glass of wine. This was one of Ouma's highlights. She would have it all ready and waiting for us. Each morning she would say that we didn't need to come back just for her, but each evening we did, and each evening she loved it.

Over a glass of wine, M and Ouma would talk and I would listen. I know enough Afrikaans to follow a conversation in Dutch. Speaking the language, however, is a different story. One of Ouma's stories was about the 'borreltjes' that she enjoyed having with her neighbours in the retirement apartment where she lived.

At five o'clock every evening, the group of five or so friends would gather at one of their apartments. Each one took a turn to bring a bottle of something to be enjoyed. This social event was the highlight of their day. A couple of glasses later the visit would be over until they reconvened the following evening. Ten years younger at the time, M and I thought that this was a novel way to grow old and a tradition we might consider when the time came.

The Christmas before last, our 80 year-old neighbour, Ginger, invited us to come and enjoy a glass of wine at her place. We were still relatively new to the building and thought it was a great way to get to know our neighbour better. Ginger had also invited Rosie who is easily Ginger's age and lives one floor down. We had a great visit.

It had snowed heavily that December and, with fresh snow on the road, we had a whale of a time watching the cars trying to get up the hill on Lonsdale. We stood comfortably warm in Ginger's apartment, sipping wine and coaxing the cars up the icy and slippery hill, "go, go, you can make it!" We cheered when one made it and groaned with empathy each time a driver gave up, reversed cautiously and turned onto a snow-laden side road.

After an evening of hilarity, wine and snacks, we called it a night and padded across the hallway to our front door. Inside our new home, I said to M, "Do you realise we have just had our first borreltje?" Scary, isn't it?