An angel on a difficult day

Some days are harder than others and today was one of those. No particular reason, weather not great so bones aching, but had a good night’s sleep. Felt weary and morose; 11 am appointment at the docs didn’t help. Took me ages to get there, but all fine.

Still feeling dark and morose on the way back, every step harder than the last as I’d forgotten to take any painkillers before setting off. Wanted to collect the paper which lengthened the walk a little.

Suddenly a cry of ‘Cooo-eeee’ from across the street. An elderly lady looking at me and waving, hurries across. I feel I’m in a Dorothy Sayers novel. She smiles broadly and asks me whether I’m feeling better. Ah that most difficult of questions. How much does she know? I can’t place her, but she clearly knows me. I use my standard response ‘ish’ which seems to cover most possibilities.

To my surprise she grins and says she’s ish too. I lean against the wall and she tells me her son has been moaning to her about not living alone. Alzheimers she says briskly, without a shred of self pity. Suddenly my whining seems a little misplaced. She’s absolutely that best example of British womanhood; resilient and capable and somehow full of joy.

I mutter sympathy and she has a brilliant reaction,’ well Alzheimers it is and Alzheimers it will be, now I must get back to my piano tuner.’ I suggest we meet up for coffee and we exchange details.

I hobble off to buy the paper and come home, have some lunch and sleep for most of the afternoon.

But today I met an angel in the street.


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