Growing old

One thing about getting old in this country, people go out of their way to help quite often.  If I am standing at the back of a long line at the supermarket, I may find one of the male staff suddenly appearing at my side, taking my cart and gently pushing it and me right through the checkout and towards a cash desk in another area of the store which for some reason does not have anyone waiting.  Then again, I went into the bank last week to withdraw some cash and many of their lights weren’t working.  I took my withdrawal slip to an area where there seemed to be more light (my vision in poor light is bad and writing by hand has been very difficult for me for the past three or four years due to tremor) and Joyce, one of the tellers, immediately came round to me with a pen and withdrawal slip in her hand, asked me what my requirements were, wrote out the slip herself and a minute later the other teller was giving me my cash in the assorted denominations she knows I like.  It was all done with smiles into the bargain.
I have never regretted leaving UK and settling in this country.