UK: Oh, to be left alone in one’s own bed . . .

. LONDON, England / New Statesman / Arts & Culture / Radio / September 3, 2009 By Antonia Quirke Elderly widows discover the joys of not always having to look good In Merry Widows (31 August, 11am, Radio 4), a programme consisting entirely of vox pops of women embracing the single life after the death of their husbands, an elderly lady said: "I'm me again. The girl who went to school in a white gymslip and navy knickers, and a pocket with a hankie in it." Other stand-out phrases were: "It's a feeling of release", "I'm enjoying my life now" and "I suppose Tony might have objected to some of the things I've done since . . . like breaking my legs in Zanzibar". Most of the interviews had been conducted quietly, super-relaxed (whoever compiled them has a talent for putting people at ease), but there were occasional forays into rural jumble sales to record various exchanges, too. "Ooooh, hello! Have a cup of tea," said a widow to a friend. "Er, thing is, I can't stop," lamented the friend, slightly harried. "Alan is at his Bach choir rehearsal this afternoon . . . ['Ah,' says the widow, intensely sympathetic] . . . and his concert is tonight." "Ahh," murmured the merry widow, a little vacantly, as though recalling a previous lifetime of cycling holidays and enforced avoidance of Continental food. "If all the people who lived together were in love," says Baptiste in Les enfants du paradis, "the earth would shine like the sun." Not that these women were entirely averse to the idea of male company. "What would be right in my life now would be a nice homosexual," conceded one. "Someone to wine and dine me and cherish me, but not wanting it to go any further. Not always having to look good, you know . . ." Oh, to be left alone in one's own bed, with one's highball and massive, hieroglyphic sweater! My dears, it's the alpha and omega of all happiness. [rc] © New Statesman 1913 – 2009