by Bethan and Kate
Wrinkly House, an old peoples home for really old people, stood precariously on Dentures Street on the outskirts of Bristol. Once a grand house with vast gardens, it had been the jewel in the landscape for hundreds of years. These days you could walk down the grey, dirty street and not even notice this piece of history. It was, in truth, a miserable street. The people marching down it on their way to work were miserable, the dilapidated shops looked miserable and even the pigeons seemed miserable in this tired old street.
But Wrinkly House was different. Despite its crumbling exterior the old residents and underpaid carers were the happiest, giggliest and most cheerful bunch you would ever meet. The building practically shone with cheer. Everyone who sadly passed away at Wrinkly House had died laughing. This had always been the case and despite staff and resident changes the giggly spirit remained. This could be magic or plain coincidence but I know better. It was during my first week here that I had an encounter with the source of the giggles.
I was sat in the day room, a light room with relatively modern furnishings. Everything seemed to match so beautifully apart from one ancient grubby armchair. It had been worn down by so much sitting that the seat nearly sunk to the floor. I asked my new pal David why it was still here. He laughed.
“You’d be right mad to get rid of Gerald,” David chuckled.
I pondered to myself what could be so special about this armchair. It certainly didn’t seem very supportive of ancient spines and creaking knees.
Looking questioningly at David I distinctly remember a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
At that moment a tiny old lady I knew as Lady M came shuffling into the room heading straight towards the armchair. Positioning herself carefully with her heels against the edge she plunged backwards and down into its squashy cushions, practically vanishing other than two thin legs with wrinkling stockings and shiny brown shoes sticking out.
The next moment there was an alarming shriek of laughter from the chair and then a breathless fit of giggles followed.
Horrified, I wondered whether I should fetch her inhaler.
After about fifteen minutes of intermittent snorts, shrieks and giggles the two legs positioned their shining shoes firmly on the carpet and with some effort Lady M emerged glowing a radiant shade of radish.
She shuffled out of the room but with a distinct spring in her shuffle now.
All day I asked what happened in the chair but I was greeted with knowing glances and giggles and I knew I would just have to sit in the wretched thing.
That night I crept downstairs and for the first time felt the warm embrace and heard the deep rumbling voice of this ancient chair. The flirtiest, naughtiest and most outrageous words rumbled through me and sent me into such a fit of the giggles!
