I forgot to mention the last week’s brief visitation. I was waiting for something, oh yes, I phone call when someone rat-a-tatted on the door. I rushed down, forgetting my key on the way (and my mask) and opened it to two policemen. There’s nothing to worry about, said the one nearest the door, but does a _ live here? He said his name, though it was the long not the short version. Yes, but he is not here, I said, with my cardigan covering my mouth, getting more alarmed as the seconds passed. He then explained that someone from a garage in town had called them to say that they were worried that he’d seemed a little distrait when he had been in there. I explained that we’d just spoken on the phone (which we had, about something very trivial, something to do with shopping probably) and he’d seemed fine. That’s OK, then, said the policeman, and by the way, you don’t need to cover your mouth. I called him again when I got upstairs and he was fine, again, though I didn’t tell him why. I did later and he was touched by the garage ‘girls’ concern and promptly called them to thank them. Why they thought he had gone doo-llally, we will never know. He said it was because he forgotten his glasses and couldn’t read his phone properly. If this is the case, well having seen him ‘loose it’ on many such occasions, I can imagine what they must’ve thought. Frightening, what?
I walked this morning, stiff and slow. Coming to the end of Llanbadarn Road I saw a huddle of three students, with two of them, girls, sitting on the pavement edge. One seemed to be complaining about her foot. I gave them a wide berth (I don’t like doing it or even mentioning it but I am cautious in the dark, of viruses and alcohol-fuelled aggression) and heard one of them call after me, a hello. Were they talking to me? Hello, she said again, adding, I could do with your stick mate. I didn’t turn round, though I did make a mental note to suggest that she go to A&E if she was in real pain and point out where it was. When I returned they were gone.
