Lydia (and Things.)

I met Lydia and Gwen in the lane today. Lydia is a young woman who lives with her man and baby daughter further down the lane. Gwen is her new whippet puppy. Gwen was very wriggly and most anxious to meet the new human; Lydia wasn’t.

But she was amiable enough in a quiet sort of way, and I wanted to tell her that I’ve never known a woman called Lydia (nor even a man come to that.) The only Lydia I’ve ever come across was the subject of Groucho’s famous song, the one that goes Lydia, oh Lydia, oh have you seen Lydia? Lydia the tattooed lady. I would have sung it to her as well, but she seemed anxious to move on and who can blame her? But at least I got a dog fix out of the encounter.

Later on it occurred to me to wonder whether anybody has yet referred to me as ‘the old chap who lives up the lane.’ I wouldn’t like that very much. I’d prefer it if they said ‘…you know, that bloke who looks like he belongs in a bell tower.’ One of my favourite ditties is the one that begins: When you look like Quasimodo and your eyes have lost their glint… It’s on the blog somewhere.

And I saw the Lady B twice driving her car. I couldn’t tell whether she waved or not. I did.