Thursday 1 January 2015
Not long before 06:35, the ruinous bathroom window is dark.
Sometime after 11:00, I walk to TeraGroce. At the downhill end of the parade of shops near Hillside Haven (where the Deceased Lady was in respite care), some building work is under way. (No work is going on today, of course.) A garage has been demolished; it had old-fashioned side-hinged doors with multiple little windows in the upper parts. Vestiges of the garage remain, adjoining the side-wall of the main building.
In the aisles of TeraGroce, I encounter at least once a man and woman with a little boy. (I encounter them either at the rear of the bread aisle, or at the rear of the aisle to the right-hand side of the bread aisle.) The man is 30 or so, the woman in her late 20s. They are working-class people. The boy is two or three years old, he is slim, he has blond hair, and he is in a push-chair. His plastic-framed glasses are so thick that I can’t see his eyes for the blur. (Neither parent wears glasses.) He seems alert, and his face looks normal, but I never hear him make a sound. Nor do I hear his parents speak to him, or otherwise interact with him. AFAICS he doesn’t have any toys.
(I don’t notice him wearing any hearing-aid(s), but this afternoon when I am watching the film Hugo on TV, I see an ad for a charity that provides toys to deaf-blind children, and this makes me wonder whether the boy may be deaf as well as partially-sighted.)
Later, I am queuing at one of the checkouts, and the couple and their son are in a queue nearer to the kiosk. I hear the female checkout-operator in that queue say: “..bless him…” or something very similar.
As I leave TeraGroce, the couple are already on the pavement alongside the car-park — clearly they have got there by the route that avoids the steps. I ascend the steps, and then I head in the same direction as the couple. The woman has brunette hair of shoulder-blade length; her face reminds me of a photo of the Deceased Lady which dates from when she was in her teens. The man, inboard of the woman, is pushing the push-chair which has a carrier-bag hanging from its left-hand side.
The couple cross Metroland Avenue, towards the GP surgery. The last I see of them, they are heading towards the crossroads, on the opposite side of Metroland Avenue from me. I imagine that the couple will turn right at the crossroads, towards Roseglade which is a district of social housing.
During the rest of the day, I spend time wondering about the boy in the push-chair. What does the future hold for him? What are his life-chances? (Very poor.) What could I do to help him? (Nothing.)
At the house on the corner of Victoria Street and Acacia Rise, two cars are parked — one of them, nose-in on the driveway, is Mrs Wobbly’s car. Does she live there? That would make sense.
At the Old Man’s house, I saw off and chop up the tall branch of the tree. It must have been toppled by the wind.
And this afternoon is wet and windy.