It was a quiet night-time-into-morning as a I walked, the wind was a slight buffeter that was all. I saw two elderly men as I wended my hobbledehoy way. The first was by one of the bins on South Marine. He was emptying something into it and was still in his dressing gown but also wearing a woolly hat. The other was coming towards me along the Prom. He had no coat on. We nodded at each other.
We sometimes stand by the coffee shop door with him as we wait for it to open. He reveals more and more about his life. He’s been in prison twelve times. He told us about The Parc prison in Cardiff. There were several inmates there who used to wait outside my cell waiting to beat me up, he said. I used to just stay in my cell. My heart bleeds. He is clean now. And supported by a host of support workers who meet him in the café for coffee and counselling.
We are going to see her tomorrow. She’s started chair ballet again. How many were there with you? he asked her during one of his nightly phone calls. Three, she replied, though one man was there by mistake. He thought he was going in there to watch Only Fools and Horses.
She is losing weight, my sister told me. She’s having tests. Is she depressed? I asked. I don’t know, she said, but they only seem to be eating salads.
So much sadness. Our hearts will break.
