Friday 26 April 2019
For once, my journey to Posh Town is quick and smooth. Nonetheless, I am the last to arrive. Mr & Mrs AR can’t join us, as Mr AR has a hospital appointment.
Dr LA(f) confirms what I have suspected, that her mother has reached the age of 90. She is still living in her own home, but is suffering from some degree of dementia. (With both her parents having lived to be 90, Dr LA(f) may reasonably hope to be here for a few decades yet.)
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Sunday 21 April 2019 (Easter Day)
After the morning service, Mrs Scalene tells me that her son, who is 28, has a drink problem. His wife expects Mrs Scalene to sort the problem out — to Mrs Scalene and myself, this is clearly an unrealistic expectation. His wife was aware of his fondness for alcohol when she married him.
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Sunday 24 March 2019
In the corridor alongside the church hall, Claire runs up to Mrs Scalene and gives her a hug. (Surely this can’t be a greeting? Mrs Scalene must have brought Claire to church.) None of Mrs Scalene’s other grandchildren is at church today.
At the end of a row of trestle-tables is one lower and smaller than the others. Seated at the head of the little table is a boy about three years of age; a boy who is a contemporary of the first boy is seated at the far long side; at the near long side, with her back to me, is a girl probably approaching her second birthday, with her brunette hair arranged in very short side-bunches. All three children are quietly and patiently waiting for their lunch. “These chaps are very civilised,” I comment to a young mother who is standing nearby. She assures me that the children are not always so well-behaved. (No doubt they can, on occasions, fling their food all over the place.)
While we are eating our lunch, I make the point to Mr AV that there was no “status quo” option in the 2016 referendum on Brexit. Then four of us — including Mr AV and myself — discuss what the government should do now, so as to extricate itself from the Brexit impasse. We didn’t all vote the same way in the 2016 referendum, but today we take quite similar views on what is the best course of action.
Wednesday 6 March 2019
At a branch of Tesco an orthodox Jew, slim and of medium height, with a long, greying beard, precedes me in via the main entrance. He and I each pick up a basket; he turns right, and I walk straight ahead, along the row of checkouts. An older man is the only customer at one of the checkouts. He is self-importantly telling the checkout-operator: “I knew Jack personally, in 1958. He’d turn in his grave…” I am now too far away to hear what the man reckons would make Jack Cohen turn in his grave — presumably what Tesco is like nowadays. So why is the man still shopping there?
Can there be any truth in his claims? Is he old enough to have known Jack Cohen sixty-one years ago? — I doubt he is aged much more than eighty.
Tuesday 29 January 2019
A couple of days ago, while I was decluttering, I unearthed a brochure for the 1997 Plum. This is the type of car that Mrs Oldgreen used to drive; it is no longer a common sight on our roads.
As I walk through GigaGroce’s car-park this morning, I see a well-kept silver example of that verstion of the Plum. The car’s registration-number ends in PKW.
Tuesday 22 January 2019
At about 18:23 I look out of the kitchen window, and see that light snow is falling. There is already a moderate dusting of snow on parked cars. This is the first snow that I’ve seen this winter.
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Saturday 5 January 2019
This evening, the Christmas tree in the front garden of the house across the way is still illuminated. The tree is covered with flashing lights, but the effect is tasteful.
For some time, the builder’s house seems to have been unoccupied. This evening, I notice that there are lights on in the living-room and the hallway. Later, as I look at the house again, I see the lights being switched off. There is still no car on the driveway.
Monday 31 December 2018
As I approach the access-road to GigaGroce, on foot, I see a mobility scooter on the same pavement as myself, but coming in the opposite direction at a fast jogging pace. The pavement is too narrow even for two pedestrians, so I step up onto the broad grassy area inboard of the pavement. The driver of the mobility scooter is a man of 70-plus, wearing a flat cap. “Thank you!” he says as he goes past me.
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Friday 28 December 2018
After doing some shopping at TeraGroce, I return my little trolley to the trolley-park. As I retrieve my £1 coin, then step away from the trolley, a woman aged 70-75 is approaching, clad in a coat with orange fur trim. She is under the mistaken impression that I am just arriving at the trolley-park rather than just about to depart from it, and tries to be helpful by standing aside. I notice her strong local accent, but even more the acrid smell of cigarette-smoke. Nowadays you don’t often see a woman with a cigarette hanging out of the side of her mouth. Predictably, her voice is quite croaky.
Saturday 1 December 2018
When I return from GigaGroce at about 15:05, Mr CH is performing his annual ritual of putting winter tyres onto the family’s car.
BLEKE 4 