‘Shambles is as shambles does…’ he muttered to himself as he hirpled along the road, his shoes scuffing softly on the cobbles. ‘Just what my mother used to say….’
Sauntering past in the other direction, happily linked on the arm of her lover, Susie turned and very obviously watched the old man, as he clattered into the doorway of the newsagent and in under the jangling bell. She was having one of those days when she saw everything: the curve of his lean jaw above the twist of his scarf and his unfastened coat; the pallor of his cheeks; the way his hair, obviously unbrushed today, twisted affectionately at the back of his head. Absently, she wondered if he had eaten yet this morning.
‘Wait a minute, Alice, will you?’ she queried, giving her arm an affectionate squeeze. She turned and followed the man into the shop, aware that she was being even odder than usual today. If everyone indulged their hunches, the world would be a peculiar place….it was peculiar enough, and she hardly needed to draw attention to herself, but still.
Susie took in the slightly dusty air, the rack of newspapers and the colourful array of crisps packets and fizzy bottles near the exit. But her attention was focussed on the old man, carefully clutching a small carton of milk and rooting in his pockets for change, while the shop-keeper waited, watching a screen pinned somewhere overhead. Absently he took the pound coin held aloft in icy fingers and proffered change. The old man’s head was bent slightly forward, as if the weight of the world had warped it. Susie approached the till.
‘Are you all right?’
The old man blinked myopically.
‘Yes, thank you’ he answered, slowly and with great dignity. ‘I’m fine, thank you, young lady.’
Susie wanted to ask him if he had had breakfast, if he was eating properly. She had an absurd longing to go round to his place and make a pot of soup, switch on the radio and fill his kitchen with the clatter of domestic noise, but instead, she just smiled and said, ‘That’s fine, then. Take care of yourself.’
‘The name’s Thomas, and I live up there – …’ he pointed absently, ‘Up the hill a bit. I like to come out for my morning walk every morning. My sister tells me it does me good, though I sometimes wonder.’
‘Your sister?’
‘Ena takes care of me.’
‘I’m very glad.’ Impulsively she gave the old man’s hand a squeeze. ‘I’ll see you again.’
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January 30, 2015
In Good Heart
Fran Macilvey achievement, choices, communication, friendship, networking, social media Fran Macilvey, Path To Publication, The Rights & Wrongs of Writing 3 Comments
Looking back over everything, I am in good heart.
I have spent five years mostly sitting here, reading, writing, editing, chatting, commenting, and being around the internet communities where I continue to meet amazing people and make friends.
In my more retiring moments, I sometimes wish that I had done other things, like walking into the hills, where the breeze would rouse me and the views from the Pentland Hills down to the coast would invite me to remember the long view. Or watching the spring flowers unfolding in March. Often, I have missed entire seasons, so wrapped up have I been, in the cocoon of communications that is part of my work.
Aware that time is fleeting, I sometimes wish I could have spent more time playing with Seline, teaching her the card games of my youth – must see if I can remember how to play double patience – great fun – and generally laughing so hard, I feel my spirit floating out of my body.
Then, I consider my accounts: my Facebook pages, my twitter and Amazon accounts, this blog and Goodreads account. I remember their genesis in the world of Authonomy, and I think….wow, I set that all up. Little phobic me, the girl who first turned on a computer monitor when she was thirty, set this all up and, with the help of so many friends and supporters, has kept it going, one way or another. Through everything, this small network has linked me to sources of information and advice, consolation and inspiration in so many ways that I can hardly articulate.
But there we are. Life creeps up on one, sometimes. And our achievements are not always obvious until later, when we take a moment to look back.
Thanks to everyone who has been part of my on-line life, all this time. I value you, and your presence, more than I can say. I count it a great privilege to know you.
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