Holding Hands.

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My mind wanders. Is that the right word? I don’t know, perhaps I’ll ask Mary when she gets home from work.

It’s sunny outside but cold. I’m guessing it’s winter. I say that because I saw a Robin on the fence today. I also noticed that the fence has been fixed. I wonder who did that. Not me that’s for sure. Might have been Reg from next door. He’s always tinkering with something. He was in the Artillery during the war. Clever bloke is Reg.

A nice young lady came and said hello this morning. She wanted to hold my hand but I thought that was a bit much considering we’d only just met. I was polite but pulled my hand away. I could see she was upset. Had tears in her eyes. Perhaps she’d had some bad news or something. I think she’s married because she was wearing a ring on her finger. It was like the one Mary has. I bought it for her years ago. It was her Birthday or Anniversary or Christmas, anyway doesn’t matter, she’ll be home from work soon.

The television is on. I don’t know what the programme is called. It’s not Sunday Night At The London Palladium. If it was the Tiller girls would be dancing. They’re stunning those girls. Long legs and boy can they kick. So if it’s not Sunday night perhaps it’s Monday or Tuesday. I’ll ask Mary when she gets in. Shouldn’t be long now.

A hot stew would be nice for tea tonight. Ox tail done slow in the oven for hours and a good thick gravy. Mum used to do it once a month during the winter. Dad loved it and used to suck the bones. I wonder if mum and dad will be coming over for Christmas dinner this year. I’ll ask Mary.

Someone’s put a blanket over my legs! Why would they do that? A blanket’s for old people who get cold a lot more than us youngsters.

Football. That’s what I’ll do this afternoon. I’ll play football with Ian and John. We’ll beat those kids from the Langley Estate. Especially if they’ve got that kid with the wonky eye playing. No way he can ever head a ball. Misses it every time. I like football, used to play, was quite good, almost professional. Mary came to watch all the games.

“Mister Taylor?”

Why is that woman calling me by that name? I’ll ignore her and face the window.

“Mister Taylor? Do you want to come through to the sitting room and join everyone for dinner?”

I think I’m hungry. I’ll go.

“Is it Oxtail?”

“Not today Mister Taylor. Perhaps tomorrow we’ll have Oxtail. I’ll ask the cook.”

“I like Oxtail.”

“Yes, we know Mister Taylor. You’ve mentioned it once or twice before. Let’s get you up and we’ll all go through to the sitting room.”

I don’t know why this woman wants to help me stand up. I’m perfectly able to do it myself. Mind you my legs do feel a bit wobbly today. Too much football yesterday with Ian and John, that’s what’s done it.

“That’s it Mister Taylor. Nice and steady. I hear your daughter was here today. I bet that was a nice treat for you.”

She’s mad this woman is. How the hell can I have a daughter at my age? I’m not going!

“Now come along Mister Taylor. You have to eat something…Mary is waiting for you in the sitting room.”

I’ll go because I think I’m hungry. But who’s Mary? Thursday! It’s Thursday!

I know that because the man on the television dressed in a strange looking suit with a yellow tie said so. He said “Welcome to the Six O’clock News on Thursdays the first December.”

I knew I was right. It is winter.

 

 

 

 

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