The Lazy Way of Doing it

Excerpt from an email to a long lost friend, lightly edited to fit this form, no textual changes.

"...I have recently been reunited with a few ghosts from the past. A guy I worked with in Israel just before I moved to England has been looking for me apparently for years, and finally stumbled upon my picture as his daughter was showing him the wonders of facebook. So he caught up with me after 32 years! I also took a long time getting back together with old school chums, and for a while had loose contact with only one of all my IDF compañeros. He too remains lost in time and space. I might do a search for him by and by. Rekindle or whatever.
Current status: single
How am I different from 25 years ago? Fatter, much fatter, gray (or grey) all over... my head, added opera to my interests and got back into arts generally (in a strictly non-creative capacity). Sexually my boasting skills have improved immensely. Of this I am especially proud.
I hope your domestic situation develops in a positive way. I recall at the time I regarded your new girlfriend as an interloper but had to admit she was probably the best thing to have happened to you.
I am now at the end of a 2 week holiday in Israel. Been looking after my mum almost on a daily basis (guilt tax). She moved a couple of years ago to a retirement community, a really posh one, with my dad. They (well, she) dragged their feet and when they (well, she) finally did move, my dad didn't get a lot more than a year's worth of the good life. So now it's her alone, needy, and as difficult as ever. She doesn't swear like the rude nan from the Catherine Tate Show (if you don't get it in your country youtube it) but a school friend came over and I invited her to stay for lunch I cooked. My mum was nice to her, after all she remembered her well from the old days. But the minute the door closed behind on her departure my mum said: "My God, hasn't she turned ugly!" I was rendered speechless.
I went with her (Rachel, not mum) to the opera last night, and as ever in Israel, there was enough drama besides the show itself to divert. First the security men at one of the entrances couldn't handle the problem of what to do with a blind woman with her guide dog, so they asked her to stand aside, bewildered, while they had a think. Boss just said "do not admit" and walked off. I went in and told the girl at the ticket window I wanted something done about it before I collect my tickets. She said: "Well, you can write a letter..." at which point I kinda lost my rag. A support group was swiftly formed (I hadn't realised the woman was in fact in a group of several culture vultures, because they just stuck by the security men to plead with them for clemency). Before you knew it they saw the error of their way and the woman, close to tears by now, was allowed in with her dog. I was a bit shaken by the spectacle so went for coffee as soon as Rachel turned up. Then, during the opera a cellphone started ringing. I was outraged. But then it dawned upon me it was in fact my own phone! Aarrgh!! A swift scramble and the nefarious instrument was turned off. Rachel couldn't resist muttering audibly and icily "damned uncultured Israelis" just to twist the knife a bit. She's a bit like that is Rache.
In my defence I must explain that the phone, my mum's old, old nokia (which I use when in Israel) was on "silent" but a simple test during the interval proved this mode indeed didn't work.