Rules are meant to be broken

A very short story to show that “i before e except after c” really doesn’t work…

My neighbour Sheila is eighty. She wears mostly beige. People who meet her think she is either feisty or weird. “I don’t want to reinforce stereotypes,” she told me. “Age is only a ceiling if you let it limit you. I say, keep going while you can and seize the day.”

Sheila’s parents, apparently, were famous seismographers. When she was eight they tucked her into an eiderdown and took her on a sleigh pulled by reindeer. What she did in later life is shrouded in mystery. “When I was eighteen, I travelled to Japan to train as a geisha,” she joked, “but they took one look at my height and my weight and they said no.”

She did once let slip she lived on a freighter for several months, carrying out surveillance on a wealthy sheikh. I do know, however, she loved to compile crosswords. Favourite clue? “Unbeliever attending robbery,” she replied, “atheist/at heist.” “Are you a believer?” I asked. She smiled, “I’m hardly a model of piety. But I trust in the deity and I don’t believe in reincarnation.”

Sheila died last week. She had an heir, a niece called Eileen who lives somewhere in Eire (although it seems I will receive the Meissen pottery and the Bechstein grand.) Sheila and Eileen weren’t close, although Eileen told me a ceilidh would be held in her honour. When we spoke on the phone, we tried to piece together Sheila’s life and achievements but our combined efforts didn’t yield much new information.

“I do know Sheila had one guiding principle,” said Eileen.

“What was that?”

“Rules are meant to be broken.”