I haven’t seen him for an age. I used to see him at least once a week doing his morning stride as I was, his long cotton trousers flapping around his legs, turban tight on his head and with a western-style anorak over his tunic. He walked with a determination that I recognised in myself. I saw him this morning seemingly being accosted by a man in a raincoat. I paid attention as I walked past to check he was OK (he’s such a tiny man, fragile in his elderly frailty). The other man was doing all the talking and he listened patiently until he finally put up his hand as if asking him to cease (or showing that he’d had enough) and walked off. I hurried on not wanting to be the next victim of the man’s obvious garrulousness. Then I worried that I’d been unkind, perhaps he was lost or needed help. Was that the case? I will never know. And I feel so vulnerable in the dark. Is that excuse enough?
