Yes I know it’s a tired old theme, but it’s one that is close to my heart. I made a post once about the composer Ralph Vaughan Williams, and how it was said of him that he not only loved women, he liked them. And further, that he needed young women around him to set his creativity flowing.
Well, I’m the same. Blame my Irish ancestry if you like; I usually do. That’s how I’m made and I doubt I will ever change, so more women encounters is what I’m going to write about. Three of them.
The first wasn’t young. She was middle aged, lumpy, and somewhat leathery-skinned. She was selling Big Issue magazines in the High Street. Now, it is a fact that Big Issue sellers are always poor because that’s what the magazine was created for. And it was Christmas Eve, so I bought one. £4. I gave her a £5 note and told her to keep the change. She said something approximating to ‘Merry Christmas’ in reply. I smiled nicely back and went on my way.
There: that didn’t hurt, did it? Onwards and upwards to number two.
There’s a young woman who works in one of the discount stores, the sort who nobody notices (apart from me) because she’s plain, bespectacled, quiet, and looks a little undernourished. But today she was wearing a bright yellow sweatshirt and looked far more noticeable than she usually does. I made a point of going through her till so I could casually remark: ‘You look bright today.’ She smiled – which I’ve never seen her do before – and said ‘thank you.’ I took that as permission to get personal: ‘If you don’t mind my saying as much, wearing colour suits you.’ No response. OK, job done, move on. I moved on.
Tesco next and the young woman serving in the Costa franchise they have tucked away in the corner of the store. I admit no hint of hyperbole when I say that she was an absolute vision – perfect of form and grooming, and as pretty as it’s possible to be. And that was what so interested me: she was too perfect and I had difficulty processing the fact. That’s no exaggeration either; I really did have difficulty processing the fact. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such perfection, to the point that I even wondered whether she wasn’t human at all but Tesco’s first diversion into the realm of AI. So what did I do? I stared at her, no doubt frowning mightily because that’s what we do when there’s something in our line of sight which we’re having difficulty processing. Eventually she noticed me and so I took myself out her line of sight and proceeded to get what I went in for - a 300g pack of cashew nuts (They’re cheaper in Tesco than anywhere else. Good quality, too)
So that’s the three, but let’s add another couple of slightly less substance for good measure:
While I was standing outside Tesco drawing on my roly, a young woman walked past who looked remarkably like my Aunt Alice. And since my Aunt Alice died over twenty years ago, it’s a little disconcerting to see a lookalike of around twenty five walking past you outside Tesco. When she reached the doors she stopped and turned to look at me for a few seconds as though she knew me from somewhere. The moment didn’t last long and that was the end of that one.
So is the fifth encounter insubstantial or the best of all? You decide.
When I came back from a short walk up the lane at twilight,
I saw that I had been followed by little Nell (my favourite little sprocker dog)
and the male half of her human carers. Much fuss was made as usual, and then
the man on the other end of the lead engaged me in conversation for some time.
He always does, you know. Whenever he sees me – even if he’s driving his car –
he has to stop and ask me how I am. What’s odd is that I never learned his
name, and neither do I know the name of his little boy. And yet I do know the
names of his wife, his daughter, and his dog – all female. That must say
something, mustn’t it? Maybe I shouldn’t dwell too much on what it might be. (But I'm still sticking with my Irish ancestry.)
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