Friday, October 4

I'm addicted to the website, Quora and it's the first thing I turn to when I open my eyes in the morning.  Of course, with the US elections coming up the spectacle of Donald Trump trying to keep himself out of prison is riveting but that's a rare treat; Quora keeps on giving 365 days of the year.   This morning, there was a post from somebody in one of the southern states, "Is it better to have a shotgun or a handgun for protection from home invasion?"

Yes, it's a real thing.  In the world's wealthiest and most advanced country (or so they say), people are planning how best to kill a burglar.  There were several replies, of course, all saying much the same thing: it's a matter of personal preference.  Too many, I thought, sounded like they would enjoy blowing the intruder away and looked forward to the opportunity.  One respondent, though, a little more thoughtful perhaps, suggested it might be worth thinking about where the shot might go if it missed the hapless burglar.  It if was a bullet from a handgun, it might travel through the wall and hit someone in the next apartment or even in the house next door.  Collateral damage, you might say, but think of the paperwork!

A BLAST FROM THE PAST                                                                               MAY 24, 2024

I don’t know what it is about rivers that attracts sad people.  Perhaps it’s because rivers ‘just keep rolling along’, and that’s a good message for someone whose life is in a bit of a turmoil.  Anna’s life was like that: she had broken up with Peter, her boyfriend, when she found he was seeing another girl and, although he was remorseful, she felt she couldn’t trust him.

And, on this bright and sunny August afternoon, a walk beside the river was just what Anna needed.  Up ahead, though, there was a shabby figure sitting on a bench and Anna’s senses were alert to any danger.  He – and Anna was almost certain it was a man - was wearing an old army greatcoat which made Anna think he might be homeless. In the past, she might have avoided passing the stranger but the way in which she had handled the recent break-up had given her more confidence and she walked on.

As she approached the figure, she noted that he was drinking from a bottle: the label on the bottle was red and the liquid in it was colourless: vodka, then, and this confirmed in her mind that the stranger was a homeless alcoholic.  Sad, of course, but she had no sympathy to share with someone who had clearly made wrong choices in his life.  

Anna walked a little faster; however, she had been brought up to be polite and, as she came alongside the stranger, she glanced towards him and gave a tentative smile.  Surprisingly the stranger called out, “How are you, Anna.  It’s been a while.”

Anna stumbled to a stop and looked more closely.  Apart from the shabby coat, she noted even more shabby boots, matted hair and an unkempt beard.  Nothing about the figure sparked any glimmer of recognition.

“Do we know each other?” she muttered.

“Oh, yes, Anna, we certainly do.  You’ve probably forgotten but we knew each other very well about 20 years ago.  I’m Darren, a little older, a little shabbier but still the same Darren you once thought you would marry.”

“Darren? I would never have recognised you.  What on earth has happened to you?”

“It’s a long story and I hope you’ll let me tell you all about it but it’s too cold sitting here; let’s go to a café and you can buy me a coffee.”

 Anna hesitated.  Darren had been a very special friend and she would love to know what had brought him to this state, but he was filthy, there was a rank smell about him and he had been drinking vodka straight from the bottle.  How could she take him to a café looking, and smelling, as he did?

“I don’t think so, Darren.  You wait here and I’ll get a couple of take-aways and bring them back.”  She backed off hoping that she didn’t appear too rude, but Darren didn’t seem to notice anything unusual in her manner.  Perhaps he had been rejected so many times he no longer bothered to take offence.

Anna drove to the nearest café, ordered coffees and something to eat, and made her way back, but not before ringing her ex-boyfriend to let him know what was happening.  Although Peter was still upset with her, he promised he would come immediately. In the meantime, he said, stay close to where she had met Darren and don’t agree to go anywhere with him.

 When she returned with the coffee, Anna was surprised to see that Darren had gone.  Apart from a red cap from a bottle of vodka, lying on the table there was no sign that he had ever been there.  Had he thought better of their reunion and decided to leave, or had he fallen in the river? Lost in her thoughts and looking at the oily sheen on the water, Anna was hardly aware of Peter’s car pulling up and it was only when he ran up and threw his arms around her that she knew that everything was going to be alright.