We hadn’t seen her for a while. Not since they’d mysteriously put scaffolding up outside the shop, and ultimately putting off potential customers and leaving her with nothing to do but read her book. Did you find out why they erected the scaffolding? I asked her yesterday. Yes, she said, they painted it. They painted they outside. Mystery solved. That’s good. She was on good form. Does she mind that I pump her with questions? Does she know how much she delights me, us, with her laconic humour. We talked of all sorts of things from Christmas decorations (‘I’ve these little birds of paradise with feathers and sequins. I love my knick-knacks.’) to advent calendars (‘I’ve bought my daughter a chocolate one. We often reuse the old ones using blu-tack to stick down the doors.’) to sofa beds and Christmas trees (‘My brother is meant to come down with his car to help me. Or perhaps Morgans might deliver. I always have a real one.’) I reminded her of what she told me last time of how she hurls the spent tree over her balcony (I live on the fourth floor, its the only way. And I always make sure there is no one underneath.) We talk politics too, some serious some silly, such as Boris Johnson’s ‘cultured dishevelment’. I’ve an ironing board, she said, perhaps I should use it. How I like her. She lifted my sinking spirits yesterday and my drawing improved as a result. What a gift good people are.
