Meeting a Superior Soul.

As I was coming out of the supermarket today, a man was walking in dressed in old clothes and Wellington boots. He could have been any age between about fifty and seventy. He mumbled something to me which I didn’t catch.

‘Pardon?’

He mumbled it again, only this time with an apologetic air.

‘Oh, right,’ I said, hoping he wouldn’t notice that I hadn’t a clue what he was saying.

He didn’t, apparently. He picked up a basket, walked into the store, looked up at the ceiling for a few seconds, walked back out, replaced the basket, and wandered off towards the town.

He had that lined, leathery, weather-beaten look you might expect of a tramp or a sailor, and he was a lot stranger than me. I was awash with admiration.