‘I haven’t seen you for ages,’ she said. ‘Have you been ill?’
Been ill? Why should I have been ill, silly old bat? Not
wishing to cause offence, however, I restricted my reply to:
‘I’ve been ill all my life. Up here, you know. Diseased
mind.’
I was hoping she would ask ‘You’re not one of them
psychopaths, are you?’ to which I could have replied: ‘No; I’m quite the
opposite. That’s the problem.’ But she didn’t. We talked about shopping
instead, mostly along the lines of the relative merits of Tesco and Sainsbury’s.
And then she launched into what I assumed to be her favourite anecdote of the
moment.
‘I was in Tesco the other day and I thought “I think I’ll
get me ’usband a jelly.” (He likes jelly.) “But I won’t get him the usual
orange or lemon one,” (that’s what he usually has) “I’ll get him a blackcurrant
one instead.” And you know what? They didn’t have any.’
I commiserated, naturally, but I have to admit that when I
did wrest myself from her presence it was with a lighter heart. And that’s why
I was out on my walk for a long time today.
(My erstwhile conversations with the Lady B’s human
alter-ego were never like that. And the old lady didn’t even have a dog. And
why am I so obsessed with Trump and the Lady B these days? Something to do with
needing deep darkness and bright light to balance my faltering step, perhaps.)
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