Walking through the town centre Monday around midday, I saw a familiar figure come toward me. A woman who I knew to be seventy-two but looked much younger. She was petite and was dressed in a smart blue jacket, black trousers and her hair and makeup were impeccable.
I waved at her.
We greeted each other “Hi Helen, how are you?” I asked.
“Oh I’ve had a hellish weekend. It started on Saturday with a sore back. I couldn’t get out of bed and there was no one to bring me a cup of tea.
“You should have phoned me, I would have come over and made you tea and brought something for your lunch
“Aye but I would have had to get up to open the door.” She said huffily as if it was my fault.
“Why didn’t you phone your son, he has a key.”
“He was at the football in Aberdeen and wouldn’t be home til late so I just thought what’s the point. I’ll Just have to do without. I felt so alone, a tear welled up in her eye.” She sounded so sad, I felt sorry for her. She continues in the same tone “Then Sunday I was so sore I couldn’t go to church, I was so miserable. You know how I love my church”
I tried to cheer her up. “You look good today. Are you feeling better.”
She looked indignant “I had to make an effort. It’s my Bingo day.”
I said “GOOD LUCK” as I walked away with a smile.
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