There are five units in our little cluster here in Burleigh Street., all of them similar to ours: 2 bedroom, 2 bathroom, garage, etc. Perfect, I would have thought for retired couples who have the occasional visit from a family member. Four of them, though, are occupied by only one person. Number 3, next to us, has a single man, very quiet, and number 5 is an older woman who moved there because her husband is in the local nursing home and she needs to be close.
Numbers 3 and 4 are occupied by young, single women and we heard this week that both are moving out to live with their respective boyfriends. That's all good but, if that arrangement becomes more permanent, we are faced with the prospect of having new neighbours. We wait with anticipation for the next development.
I've called today's story A Day In the Life ... just a bit of nonsense. It's from 2020.
After my knee replacement I was heartily tired of doctors but I needed an ultrasound on my ankle so my GP sent me to an unfamiliar clinic in a part of town I didn’t know very well. We had no trouble finding the clinic and, after I spoke to the receptionist, I sat down to wait my turn. The reception area was a good-sized room with the most prominent feature being an enormous Old English Sheepdog, sprawled across a mattress pushed against one wall. The creature was clearly having some sort of doggy-dream as it was twitching and its head kept slipping off the mattress onto the shoes of a waiting patient who had, for some reason, chosen to sit as close to the dog as possible. He didn’t seem perturbed even as his shoes became wetter and wetter with saliva.
While I was waiting, an elderly woman came in, and presented herself to the receptionist who checked her details. When asked her date of birth, she proudly announced, “27th of October, 1942,” turned around and looked at me and repeated as if to challenge me, “1942!” Taken aback somewhat, I responded, “Well done! You’ve beaten me by several months. I wasn’t born until early 1943.”
After she had sat down, the receptionist called out to her, “Have you ever lived in Carrins Avenue?”
“Oh, no,” said the woman, “but the last time I came here you had builders in and I had to go to a room down the back of the building. I don’t think I could find my way back there now. My address is 72b Penquite Road but, before that, I lived in Carrins Avenue.”
The receptionist just smiled.
A buzzer rang and I was shown into an adjoining room where the lights were dimmed. A cheerful young woman was sitting in front of an impressive piece of equipment which I assumed would be used to scan my leg and ankle. The young woman smiled and said, “Hi, my name is Mandy. Do you need a hand to take your trousers off?” I don’t think anyone has ever said that to me before.
Life is full of surprises, isn’t it?
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