Siren

There was an ambulance outside Beryl and Ted’s house this morning.
I’m not one to curtain twitch, but I couldn’t help seeing Ted wheeled out with an oxygen mask on. I hope it’s nothing serious. Partly because he’s lovely and I couldn’t bear the thought of him suffering, but also because he tends to bore the arse off you talking about his medical problems and procedures. On Christmas Day, he gave me a two-hour detailed account of the way they checked his prostate for cancer, shortly before handing me a bowl of nuts and raisins. If he’s had a stroke or something we’ll be hearing about it for decades.
Reading that back, it sounds really harsh and horrible. I don’t mean anything by it, it’s just my way of dealing with things. Hit them head on with humour (and alliteration) and it saves you having to face facts and experience emotions. I’ve made a career of it.. When my gran died, I joked about tumours for months.
The truth is, I’ve become rather fond of our elderly opposite-neighbours. I’ve popped over a couple of times since Christmas for a cuppa, and to see if they need anything from the shop. Usually the answer is no, but I think they enjoy the visits, and it’s the least I can do after the fantastic Christmas Day they gave us.
I’ll nip round tomorrow and see if there’s anything we can do.

Seeing the two of them together made me think about long-term relationships, and the fact that I’ve never been in one. 25 years old and my record stint with a lady involved a cyberspace girlfriend that I never actually met. As soon as the library opens in the morning, I’m asking Donna out for a meal.

RC 8-3-09
2050 GMT