I was just coming down the hill from our section of the estate when we crossed paths. I called out hello, and she responded likewise before doing a double-take and saying my name. I was touched that she remembered it. It has been a long time since he and I went over to their house for tea and cake. He’d spoken to him a few times at the bins and then we’d seen them at church one Christmas and they’d invited us over. It was an awkward couple of hours. She tried her best but her husband was scratchy (and possible ill) and we were edgy. I think it is what they do, but it isn’t for us. We don’t do visiting, and I made it clear (as politely as possible) that we don’t invite people in. But she smiled warmly yesterday and I returned the gesture with one equally warm. I like her. She looks so fragile in that tiny thin frame. They’ve made so many compromises coming to live here in this parochial town to be near their daughter (who lives two houses away). And I think she makes the best of it, he perhaps not as much. I ache for people sometimes.
Well I went, though it wasn’t conclusive. He is a gentle soul and so petite. He asked if I wanted a nurse present while he examined me. That would be nice, I said. I lay there on the couch, denuded of my trousers and offered to unpop my body before realising (and blushing for my stupidity) that the examination wasn’t an internal. He was very solicitous, while the nurse hovered in the background. It’s something to do with the two arteries that come from the hips to the thighs, apparently. Yes, said the nurse, I can see it moving your fingers. They are pulsing too hard and are swollen. I need to read up on it, he said, admitting that he didn’t know what it was. I liked his honesty. Meanwhile there will be blood tests and so on. Maybe it will remain a mystery. Perhaps that is OK. Must we know everything? She is a noble creature my body, carrying me well. Should I listen to her more?
I meant to write something about my walk but I’ve forgotten what it was. The wind has grown wild. I eschewed the Prom and walked through the little streets of town trying to shelter from the wind, my umbrella blowing inside and out. I notice things more now that I’m drawing regularly. The details high up catch my eye. I saw them as I drew yesterday afternoon sitting on the pavement on the corner of Bridge Street and Vulcan Street. I love the chimneys, all higgledy-piggledy, the pastel shades of the house walls and the rickety, ill-kempt roofs. There is so much to capture – though I still struggle with my desire for more finesse. I need to look harder, and breathe before committing pen to paper. Another café drawing session this morning – what will it bring?
