I drove Maggie quite frequently over the last few years and it was always reminiscent of “Driving Miss Daisy”. She was as sharp as a tack and never scared to pass comment on everything and anything. She never complained about living on her own. In fact the opposite was true and occasionally when she was up early before anyone came in, she said that she enjoyed the solitude. On the odd occasion that Jackie accompanied me when I went to pick up Maggie she always commented that the first thing out the door was the “Hand Bag”. I was surprised that she could lift it. It weighed a ton. Maggie’s only comment on such a occasions was that Jackie shouldn’t be there as it cramped her style.
She always had that twinkle in her eye. Latterly, Maggie had problems getting into the car so, much to her enjoyment, it was hands under the oxters, “upsidaisy” and in she went. She weighed less than her handbag.
Lastly, it’s a great shame that Maggie passed away before the distillery was built and Maggie had her own private tap installed. That would have been an opening ceremony to be remembered. Who knows, there might still be a plaque put up to celebrate the passing of a close neighbour who always enjoyed a taste of the uisge beatha?
Slainte, Maggie
Slainte, Maggie
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