Pressing the right button

Monday 9 June 2014

As I am about to set off from the Old Man’s house, the rain begins to set in. Once I have parked on the street, closed the gates of the driveway and returned to the car, the rain becomes heavy. From just after 11:00, I sit in the car alongside the old lady’s former house, and wait for ten minutes until the rain eases off.
On the way back to Suburbia Somnolenta I stop for petrol. When I return to my car after paying, I see that one of the other customers, an eightysomething man, the driver of a blue MPV, is having difficulty operating the petrol-pump. He can’t work out which button to press, and he is pressing something that isn’t a button. I press the right button for him.
Driving through the outer fringes of a suburb near Suburbia Somnolenta, I see heading towards me on the left-hand pavement a mother out for a walk with her redheaded twin girls aged about 24 months. They have just traversed the pedestrian crossing that I am approaching.

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