This is me, Gillian Harrison, 68 years to my name. My favorite smell? The theatre, of sucking sherbet lemons down the theatre. I have a black cat called Morrison, he's got three legs poor lamb, and I like the end t'day with Mrs Morrison on the one knee and a girt big cup'o'tea on the other. I also enjoy mossing around a bit o'shopping with me old pals. Keeps you moving. Mind, there's not many left now - old pals. And the old red and powder won't fill me cracks no more, or not so much cracks as a consistency like, it's an old orange - shine gone out of it at the supermarket, that's my poor wide face. Mind, I still look after meself, can look after meself. Told me youngest I were off out Wednesday when I spent the day in all alone and no one were coming, He's got this horrible little daughter, always after fetching me things and telling me of her schooling. She's another one, I tell you, the other day an all. I were down me GP and I wen off behind the screen, cus of me urinary, and I was just wearing a dress so I went and took it off, naturally, but the poor clever doctor bloke went white as his coat and nearly fainted, men have no manliness these days.
She thinks she knows it all, that daughter - load of twaddle, causes no end of trouble with that twaddle mouth of hers. But I got real cleverness, ear to the sound I have. I'm always afraid of missing summat though. On the radio or owt. I wouldn't do to let the old pals hearing things first and leaving me standing - a great ape-us fool I'd look!
TEXT by Daisy May Dawes + IMAGES by Alison Glanville Jones