New issues…
Well all — its a season, whether you do it one way or another — of overeating, self treating, egoism, and family interventions :)
I have had a terrible year, I moved in, and my granddaughter moved in, and we make milestones every day. I’m still haunted by the terrible families of yesteryear — who have taken property here without paying for it, and behaved so terrifyingly, that most of the neighbourhood has run away…
Yet we are approaching the nitty gritty bit now, I can recall more and more, I had a cup of army coffee in the Royal British Union café in Church st, only really available to soldiers and other ex military… and found my grandfather in my memory making coffee and handing me one. “It’s best coffee yet,” he would have said, “Better than you get from the shops..” Back then I liked the coffee… today I grimly drank it, and had to smile at my wish for a smooth strong №5 Indonesian coffee…. shows how much I have changed…
Back then the English coffee wasn’t all made from the coffee bean. It all tasted earthy and wrong slightly. By the time I visited the USA after the war, I had developed a taste for black coffee in the morning… I used to sip that in Debenhams café before slipping out.
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At the Remembrance ceremony in the town, which was well attended, another strand of my past came alive, and after that, many people from the forces remembered me from my past. I’m so glad that happened, because you know all these little events are pulling me into one person again. The more that saw that phenomena was important, people of the ww2, might all be able to confirm what they saw. They certainly reacted.
The person I was before the brain tumour is on her way in, I rather want to be myself again. She was the one who helped plan an event, a meeting, to catch up with how the world had treated her so that she knew she was not totally lost.
Since then I have promised myself a return visit to the RBL café, perhaps a cup of tea might bring more results from the past. It is just what I expected inside. I used to be left outside, when the older people went inside because strangers were suspicious of my age, and I just couldn’t grow like normal people.
I have friends here, though, spirits have come and gone, who recall me too, and stand guard at my door. The Grey Man is a shade person — and yet he’s quick to defend my door. I’d like to know who he once was, for he’s very familiar and when he came inside one night, and stood in the corridor framed in the bedroom door, I called him Gabriel.
Well folks, the people that do me wrong, do others wrong too, I told the council about it, yet still got no belief. They have strong powers of persuasion, and I can’t get it, that people cannot see past what is said…
That they do not take in what has been done…
