People

I’m concluding in my old age that I don’t like people much. My wife dragged me out to the local sales, there were lots of people about and the only things I had been vaguely interested in had either been moved, or seemed more expensive, not less, than before christmas.

When items have been moved, I just take it as a sign that the shop doesn’t want me to buy a particular item, so find it easier to go without altogether than to try rummaging for it. This was in Debenhams, and I came straight back out.

In Marks and Spencer, I saw another sign. Everywhere I turned, even when I stood where nobody else was about, somebody would turn up a few seconds later, wanting to get past me, and I’d be in the way. A woman with a pushchair quite happily barged me out of the way – I thought I might get my blue badge tattooed on my forehead, but decided against it as it probably wouldn’t make people behave any differently. I though of reminding her that I was a disabled guy but I doubt she’d have cared. And there were sufficient numbers of people out and about that I couldn’t go directly from A to B without taking a roundabout route – and whoever would have thought that, one day, walking would take so much effort? And even though I’m hobbling, nobody gets out of my way, it always has to be the other way around. So, all in all, I’m glad I’m home.

Unforgiving

We have two cats. The boy has been asleep on my bed since I vacated it this morning. The girl is a little more active, and has been a bit friskier today, even spending some time on my lap.

It’s funny, when she’s in the mood for a fuss, she butts my bad hand as it to say “Come on, why are you only fussing me with one hand? Get your act together!” I’ve got a funny feeling that if I ever get movement back in that hand, the first time I’ll notice it will be thanks to the cat.