Gentleman of the road

                                                                                   Gentleman of the road
 

 

Dear Reader,

The best laugh this week has definitely been about daffodils.  St. Blaise Town Council in Cornwall has cut down more than 1,000 flowers from a recreation ground for fears that children could fall ill eating them. Whatever next?  I have never heard of a child eating a daffodil any more than eating a rose or delphinium, or any flower for that matter.  I think some things brought up in council meetings in England have gone mad, and as a consequence chaos seems to reign. England that I love, and was brought up in, seems to have disappeared and lunatics have take over. Next lunacy could be that all trees have to be cut down in case they fall on us as we walk by.  Well I wouldn't be surprised.  God help us all.

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Just to let you know about  my Covid experience.  My cough has nearly gone except for at night and I am feeling much better.  I think that it is a depressive illness, or was for me, but that part seems over now.  Feeling a bit tired goes on, but you all know how old I am and so feeling tired is natural at my age.

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This is a message for those of you, especially from America, who very kindly write to me on FaceBook. I very much appreciate your comments but cannot put you on Friends Request.  Mainly because I don't know how to, but I am very happy to know you Follow me.

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  A short extract from my book: Half a Pair of People. 

Everyone was very friendly. There were lots of bad jokes, and a few arguments, but only in the same way that a united family argues, with love not aggression. At 10 o’clock sharp when the director was beginning to lose control, we retired to the Crown and Cushion pub until closing time. Unlike the bar and beer at the Open University (which comes later), here, I was allowed to drink gin and tonic in peace, enjoying the theatre gossip. Past productions, future productions, costumes, who was going to paint the props this year, (it bloody well wasn’t going to be whoever was talking at the time), speculations on Christmas weather, how many tickets would sell, or whether with the advent of videos, the pantomime would still be popular. And soon. I drove back to Oxford not minding the fog and cold. gin coursing through the veins, lulled into a false sense of security. At that stage having a part in a pantomime was all I had hoped for – my dreams, as it were, come true.

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Gentleman of the Road

The old man shuffled into the cafe
head bent, shoulders hunched
with a weather-beaten face
and straggly beard 

he looked sad and lonely.

In a deep rasping voice he said
he would like a ham sandwich.
I made in one,
and sat down beside him.

'I am gentleman of the road,' he told me
'been on it for fifty years or more.
I have walked the byways of
England, watched the sun come up
watched the sun go down.'

He told me his life story.

Often being cold and hungy,

frightened when sleeping

on a city street,

how he felt old and

out of sync with the times

how he hoped to die

in the countryside, under a willow tree.

When he left I hugged him

and tears came into his eyes

"I haven't been touched by another

human being for over thirty years', he said.

And tears came into my eyes.

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With very best wishes, Patricia