… you’ve watched your weight haven’t you, mum says, which is good, because that’s the thing that causes knee problems I think – the weight on your knees. And getting old. My knees aren’t what they used to be. I don’t kneel down so much – only when there’s something nearby that I can lean on when I get up. That’s getting older. They’re not doing Irene’s knee – not yet – they’ve decided to do the hip first: that’s what’s causing her most pain. I’m not sure I could cope, mum says, if I couldn’t walk. I’ve walked all my life. We used to walk – do you remember this – from Swarkestone Drive to grandma’s – that was a long way. I walked miles with you in the pram – and then when you were older and you had that three wheeler.
I was 18 wasn’t I, I say.
I’ll tell you something, she says, this’ll make you laugh. I was walking through Moseley and there was this car, and it was making this awful noise – dreadful. And this man near me said to me I bet you’ve never heard a noise like that, we didn’t used to hear those kinds of noises did we? And anyway we got talking and he told me he was from a road over there, this part of Moseley – he was a young man, 50 or so – and I said I don’t know where that is, I’m from Derby, I’ve moved to Birmingham. And he said you’re from Derby are you – well what a coincidence, because I’m from Derby, that’s what he said, he was from Derby, from Allestree. And I said yes I know Allestree – Eric and Frances used to live there. And he said his parents used to run the chip shop there, and I said was it the one by the little lane off the roundabout and he said yes that’s the one, and I told him we must have got chips from that shop, though that was a lie because we didn’t get fish and chips, not with your dad.
Did he have a Derby accent, I ask.
No, not really … but with the deafness I don’t really notice dialects. Though he didn’t sound Brummie. And he said we know what it was like don’t we, back in those days – no fridge or anything: you didn’t have a fridge. And it was nice – we must’ve talked for ten minutes or so. It was like he was my son.
Did you not have a fridge, I ask.
No, she says, I can’t remember when we got our first … well my mum didn’t have one, and the cooker, well that was just a gas ring – just boiled everything. And I helped her with the washing – I used to mangle things. And we had a tin bath. Friday night was bath night. Me and me mum used to use the tin bath, dad never did – he went to the swimming baths for a bath. We bought her her first washing machine … no, she bought us our first washing machine – a twin-tub – when we got married. I’d got no money … we didn’t have a few pennies to rub together. I never had pocket money – I thought that was a bit rough. Whatever I earned when I was working I gave to my mum – she kept a book with it all in. Your dad didn’t have any money, no. Yes Brunswick Street – where I lived with me mum and dad – there was a shop on the corner, and you went along the street, and you came to an alleyway, and if you went down that you could see all the neighbouring yards. And we were on one side of the alleyway, and next door was grandad – me dad’s dad. I don’t know why they lived next door. They were renting. No, no fridge … though did Muriel have one, she might have had one. They were hard times. Happy days. We weren’t unhappy, not like the kids these days who’ve got everything. We never had a freezer, no.
All women become like their mothers, and no man does, that’s what Oscar Wilde says, I say.
I must be like my mother then, mum says. When we went to Colin’s wedding – we were in the corner – my mother’s sisters were there, and they just ignored me – never acknowledged me. Though there was this woman – my mother’s carer – and she came over, and she said you’re like your mother – she could see it. She was a nice lady, that’s what she said about my mother.
Well there you are then, I say, you’ve inherited that.
Knowing and not knowing are bad, mum tells me, it’s better not to know … it’s upsetting. I wondered if I should phone Colin … but then I thought not, it always upsets me – he always manages to upset me. It’s life isn’t it … life is … they don’t know what it’s like do they, nobody knows what you go through, the things we go through.
Better not to know isn’t it, I say.
I’ve always thought that we have a special bond, she says, you and me … we understand each other don’t we.
You cheered me up yesterday, mum tells me, you should be a counsellor. I felt a lot better after talking to you. You know, she says, I think there’s a nice person inside you, trying to get out.
Miriam seemed subdued today, mum tells me, somebody must’ve upset her. She gets a lot of hassle here. Margaret from upstairs is always saying that we’re paying her wages and she doesn’t do anything, just paperwork. And she’s always saying the lights shouldn’t be on in the corridors – we’re paying for that she says.
They’re so mean these old Tories aren’t they, I say, even to other Tories.
They’re getting new carpets for the corridors as well, she says, Eileen was showing me the catalogue. I said I liked one, and she said no we don’t want that, that’s too dark, we need something light and colourful. I said that won’t be good for the dirt will it, people traipsing about – you know the workmen come in with their muddy boots on to use the toilet. People don’t like her, mum says, Eileen. She’s been away for five days, on a bus trip.
Where to, I ask.
I didn’t ask, she says. She’s always going somewhere. Kevin lives next door to her. He can tell when she’s in because he can see her light on. He says he doesn’t like her, though he wouldn’t want her to come to any harm. She’s bossy. Always telling people what to do. He’s not keen on Muriel and Brian either – think they own the place. To be fair they have been here for more than twenty years. You know I went out for lunch with Elise yesterday. She asked me to meet her down in the lounge at 12.30. When I got there she was talking to Liz and Sharon. They said enjoy your French lunch. I don’t like that … that’s what I don’t like about this place: everyone wants to know what you’re doing – they want to know your business. Today when I saw them they said how was your French lunch. I don’t like that … I don’t like it here.
You don’t like it, I say.
I don’t like it, she says, I miss me chalet and the garden … it might be hard for you to understand I suppose … I think I don’t like Birmingham … if I’d come here twenty years ago, and I could just hop on the bus and go to Birmingham, then that might have been better …
I can understand you missing the garden, I say.
I just don’t like living in a flat, she says. When I think of other people … who can’t get out, stuck in their flats … I feel grateful, grateful for every moment. I’m not depressed.
… they’re going on holiday next week, I tell mum, Whitstable.
I’ve never heard of that, mum says, where is it – Winstable …
It’s in Kent, I say, Whitstable.
Whistable, she says.
Whitstable, I say.
Winst … well, she says, I hope they have a nice time.
You know, she says, sometimes I think it must be difficult for you, and boring, listening to me going on about all the things I tell you, you know, all the things going wrong with people, all the illnesses, people being old.
It’s not a problem, I say.
No, she says, it must be boring – depressing. I shouldn’t talk about those things – it must be difficult for you.
I really don’t mind, I say, what can you talk about if not your own experience, the things happening around you, to people you know.
It’s not right, she says, from now on I think we should try to talk about other things … did I tell you I’d rung Irene – she wasn’t too bad, didn’t show any signs of dementia, not like Helen told me. She said they were going to do her hip first … they think that’s where most of the pain is … and they’ll wait to do the knee. I don’t like this hot weather … makes me ache all over … the arthritis.
Sandra said she’d call me at four, mum tells me. She’s always very reliable. So I was waiting for the call and it didn’t come. Then she texted and said can I ring you later. She didn’t ring till eight o’clock. She’s been having trouble with her shoulder – it hurts. She went for a massage, and he said he thought it was rheumatism, you know, arthritis. She said they were at home the next day, and Mark – he’s a tall man; he’s not fat, but he’s not thin – Mark stood up, got up out of his chair – her sister was there at the time – and he went towards where Sandra was sitting, and he fell on her.
He fell on her, I say.
He fell on her, mum says. It took them a while to get him off. He’s a big man. And that hurt her shoulder even more. She said she was cooking the other day – they eat very well – and she had some sausages in the fridge, and she thought she’d better use them, and she said she put them in the frying pan – and she said, I don’t know why I did that, I normally do sausages in the oven – she put them in the frying pan – I don’t know, four or five sausages – and these were proper sausages, the kind where you have to prick them, not like the kind of sausages you have I imagine. She put them in the frying pan and – cutting a long story short – she’d overheated the oil, and she burnt her hand – the oil went on her hand.
How did that happen, I ask.
So they went to the pharmacy, and they had a look at it there, and they said, we’ve never seen anything like that before – it had all swollen up, especially her wedding ring finger –
Must’ve looked like a big sausage, I say.
– and they said they thought she should go to A&E. So they went to A&E, and they were horrified. It had really swollen up. They said they didn’t know what they were going to do about it. They said, can you move your wedding-ring – if you can’t we’ll have to saw it off. Well, she could move it. And there was a big blister on that finger. So they lanced it. Lanced it. And underneath that blister was another blister. So they lanced that one. And all the stuff that came out … they were amazed. So that was why she rang later – she’d been at A&E. You see the thing with those sausages is … they spit. They spit, when you’re frying them. I said to her that the oil could have gone in her face … or her eyes. She said, I never thought of that. So she was lucky. Not completely lucky … but it could have been worse.
Things could always be worse couldn’t they, I say.
We’re so lucky aren’t we, she says, to be as well as we are. She’s always cheerful though. Says she’s worried about Mark, thinks he’s losing it … up there. Thinks he shouldn’t be driving –
Definitely, I say, he can hardly stand up.
– thinks he shouldn’t be driving, no: but how do you tell someone that, when they’ve been doing it all their life. Her son’s coming over – the one that lives in Derby, and he might say something. And he’s not well either.
I can’t have bananas anymore, mum tells me, they’re … I don’t know …. I don’t like them. I’ll get grapes. What do you think of … missy?
Missy? I say.
Missy, Mitzi is it?
Mitzi?
Don’t … er … Messi is it, she says.
Oh Messi, I say.
Don’t … He’s not going to play anymore is he, she says.
Is he not, I say, I don’t know.
He must be pretty old … must be getting on, she says, probably not as good as when he was younger … I remember seeing him when he was younger … when he was brilliant.
Well most people aren’t quite as good, I say, when they’re older – I’m sure he’s still a good player. Look at Ronaldo – he’s 35 or 36, and he was still good for Portugal in the Euros.
Yes, she says, after Covid. I always thought he was gay … but he’s got a son.
You can have a son and be gay, I say.
Something about the way he looks, she says … just …
Do you remember, I say, that time me and dad went to that gay club?
Oh yes, she says.
Yeah, he’d noticed there was an exhibition of David Hockney prints on – at this place – he thought I’d be interested. So we went along, and when we went in there was a bar, and they were selling – Gay Times? – and this guy came up to us and said are you boys new in town – are you boys new in town. I said, yes we are.
Yes, she says, I sometimes wonder if I could have done something … to make him different …
Different? I say.
Yes, she says, you know … if I’d been different … then he might have been different. I still talk to him you know. If I’d talked less, then he might have … he was never good at socializing … I can talk to anyone … he didn’t have the gift of the gab … I can just talk, about rubbish … but he. He could have done better at work … if he could’ve pushed himself … he couldn’t do that … he was a lot like you … sometimes I’m amazed at how similar you are, you and him.
Well, I say, you’d kind of expect us to be similar.
We always thought that maybe … maybe we didn’t do the best for you, that we could have helped you more – with your brain – we could have helped you more – if we’d had the money or the knowledge – we could have sent you to Repton. Yes, he couldn’t push himself … like doing a talk … the fear …. but he said to me, towards the end, that he’d had a good life, that it couldn’t have been any better … though he thought he hadn’t given me what I deserved.
He said that, I say, what did that mean?
You know, she says, that he didn’t give me things … take me out … you know, when I look back, I think I never had a well husband, no … he was born with a hernia. I think that – inside him – there was a terrific person that never came out – just like you.
Thanks, I say.
I mean, you’re fantastic –
But not terrific, I say.
You made our lives, she says, you’ll never know what you meant to us – you never appreciate your parents, not really, no.
Helen said she’d had a memory test, mum tells me. I don’t know why she had a memory test – at the doctors. She said she got 79%, and they thought that was bad – but surely 79% is good: it seems good to me.
It depends what it’s supposed to be, I say.
I wish I could remember things, mum says, there are some things I can’t … I try. I remember us going on holiday to Malta. We went twice. You probably don’t remember. I think you were at university. I always think it’s a proper holiday, you know, if it’s just the two of you, just husband and wife. We stayed in this lovely hotel – The Florenta, I think it was called. Florenta … Fiorenta. It was very posh. A man at the door to let you in. It had five restaurants. A spa – you could get a massage. You could pay to have seaweed on your face. I went in the pool. We saw that actor there … I can’t remember his name though … I got his autograph … what was it … I can see his face but …
What was he in, I ask.
Oh he was in a few things, she says – he wasn’t a top actor, but he was in some good things … he was in Midsommer Murders … and a very good series with Brenda Blessed about cricket, yes … and he was in that hospital thing … that doctor thing, set in Scarborough. We saw him on the beach … well it was pebbles really, just pebbles … I wish I could remember the name of the place where it was … Valencia.
The capital of Malta is Valletta, I say.
We went there … Hitler had a bunker there, which we saw … and there was this church where a bomb had come through the roof … I’m not a religious person … I don’t know what they’d done with it, de … I’m not religious but when you were in there you got this feeling, this cold feeling … fantastic it was. Valencia, that’s where we saw him, on the beach with his wife or whoever it was, and I went over and asked him for his autograph, and he was over the moon … he wasn’t a top actor. I wish I could remember the name of the place … just pebbles … I think I need a memory test myself.
Yes, mum says, I had a phone call from Lesley – it was my wedding anniversary, I bet you didn’t remember.
No, of course I remembered, I say, that’s why I phoned you.
She said did I want to go over to hers in the morning, mum tells me – and did I mind if Rose went too – I said no, I didn’t mind. She lives in Yardley Wood – near where we went for the jab. There were some flats across the road – they looked like council ones. I said are they council flats, and she said no, they’re all bought. Well her place – you should have seen it – it was lovely – absolutely lovely – just the kind of place me and your dad would have loved. They got talking – about people I didn’t know – people to do with the church. Lesley is qualified you know – qualified to give communion in people’s homes – I didn’t know you could do that. They’re very religious. I’m not religious at all. They said they didn’t like female vicars – that kind of religious. Lesley said she was very lucky, that she liked her neighbours and everyone on the street was very nice. Though the children of the people two doors down, she thought, are a bit out of control – she said that they were adopted and that they probably weren’t compatible with the parents. She said she would never adopt anyone – she didn’t think it was a good idea – you never know how they’re going to turn out. And Rose said she didn’t think adoption was a good thing – she mentioned Dorothy’s daughter – you know, she was adopted – and how all she was after was Dorothy’s money. I was seething. I had to say something. So I told them – I said, I’m adopted, and I don’t think you should say such things about adoption and adopted people. I got on my pedestal, I said a lot more. They just went silent. I didn’t say anything about you. Rose said she was sorry, she didn’t know. I said I don’t tell many people – but I’ve been hurt in the past, I said, by the kinds of things people say. Adoption is different now – it used to be a shame, for the mother … but in this day and age. Then Rose started crying.
Crying, I say, had you upset her?
No, mum says, no – she was crying, and she said there’s something I haven’t told you Lesley, there’s something I couldn’t bring myself to tell you.
What was it, I say.
She said, my granddaughter’s gay … it’s a bad thing. Apparently she’d been over for tea at her son’s and the granddaughter was there with the other girl. He said, oh yes, I didn’t tell you mum, because I thought you’d be upset. I said to her, it isn’t a bad thing … these things happen … that’s how you’ve got to look at it. At the end Lesley stood up and said, shall I say a prayer? So we all stood up and held hands, and she said this prayer.
What kind of prayer, did she mention adoption and gays, I say.
Oh no, mum says, it was just a general one, you know, about us people. She probably didn’t mean any of it anyway.
I’ve been watching Maigret, mum tells me. It’s been on before. Everything’s repeats. It must be difficult for them. It’s not the one with Rowan Atkinson – I’m not a fan of Rowan Atkinson, but he was good as Maigret. No, it’s before him, from before him. An older actor – I can’t remember his name … Camden or something, I think. I can’t remember. Old actor, rather portly. Very good. It entertains me.
It’s all repeats now. I saw Endeavour, but I didn’t like that – something about the story … didn’t appeal to me. And all the soaps … they’re all rubbish. I watch Emmerdale though. I record it so I can speed it up through the adverts. Did you watch Strictly?
No, I say.
It’s very boring, she says, just … talking … I don’t mind if they’re doing the dancing. I don’t know many of the people on it. There’s a comedian I know, who seems like a bit of a puff. And this woman from Dragons’ Den, an older woman – big woman, very big – very pretty – pretty big woman.
… a lot of blood and a long needle. I suppose she’ll have to isolate for a few days, mum says, before they do it. I don’t know what’s going to happen to Barry while she’s in hospital. She said they’d got a lot of food in, but I don’t think he’ll be able to use the microwave will he, with the Alzheimer’s – he could end up burning the house down. And if he falls over. And he never answers the phone – won’t use it. Still, she’s got a sister, and a daughter – they might go over. I don’t know why I worry about it – I can’t do anything from here. And I’m not sure what’s fact and what’s fiction –
that’s the central problem of our time, I say
– no, I’m not sure what to believe, mum says. And I had a phone call from Perth this morning. Half-eight. I was in bed. I’d just got to the phone when it stopped ringing. So I went to the toilet and put me nightie on. Then she rang again. But I think that getting up quickly like that has affected me head – it feels worse today. She wasn’t on for long – it was a terrible line, I couldn’t really hear what she was saying. But she seems to have some health problems – she’s got water around her heart, and they think she’s got a tumour developing, somewhere … in her spleen I think she said … they’ve got to do investigations.
Oh dear, I say.
That’s the kind of phone call I get these days, mum says, it’s all a bit doom and gloom … you know, I can hear myself speaking … I wonder if there’s wax in me ears. They say your ears are important for balance – maybe that’s why I’ve not been so good lately. I don’t want to lose me confidence – I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t walk. It’s alright if I’m walking with someone. Kevin walked back with me from Marks yesterday. Do you know what he said? I probably shouldn’t say. He said that since knowing me he can see that he made a mistake not having got married, not having a companion – he never married … I suppose he might have had girlfriends. He’s never really mixed with people here, and now he regrets that. A mummy’s boy – I’ve never met anyone that thought in the way that he does about his mother … him and his sister. He said that when she died – she was a nurse, his mother – when she died his face went funny – it froze down one side.
Did you say that he visits the cemetery every week, I ask.
He meets his sister for lunch every Saturday. His sister doesn’t drive, and neither does her husband. No, I’ve never heard a man talk about his mother the way that he does … should’ve been a girl really. I don’t think your dad would approve –
Well –
but there’s no harm in it – not at our age. It’s good to have somebody to talk to. He asked me how I met your dad – did we meet through the Salvation Army. I said no, we didn’t. It’s the church or me – that’s what your dad said to me. So I chose him.
They weren’t very religious were they, the Smiths, I say.
No, mum says. Your grandad used to go to the British Legion on Sundays – he took the kids and left them in the yard with a bottle of pop, while he had a drink.
Why were your parents in the Salvation Army, I ask.
I don’t know, she says, they just were – that’s what they were like. I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it – till now, with you asking. Auntie Muriel and Uncle Stan were quite big in the Army – they wore the uniforms. But no, I don’t know why they got into it. Uncle Stan was a funny man.
How did you feel about your exhibition, mum asks me.
Well, I say, I missed most of it because of the operation – though I was there for the opening night do … I suppose overall I was a bit depressed about it.
Yes, she says, I was depressed about it too. You put a lot of effort into it … and they cost a lot, the materials don’t they … if you want some paints for Christmas let me know. But you’ve always done your art haven’t you … never really had the recognition. You didn’t sell anything did you?
No, I say.
Do you think your prices are too high, she says.
Maybe, I say, maybe if it was in a different place I could get that for them.
The problem is, she says, that people don’t want abstract, they want things they can recognize – dogs, flowers, a tree by a brook. Those are the things people like. The problem with abstract is you can’t see what it is … they don’t have your vision … that’s the problem. I suppose you could think about what you do … you’ve always done what you’ve wanted to do though, I can’t see you changing. Did the others sell anything?
Yes, I say, they were painting recognizable things. I talked to Stephen about it … he’s exhibited more than I have … he said he’d got to the point where he doesn’t bother about the lack of response … he doesn’t let it upset him … that’s just the way it is. But I find it depressing, that no one’s got anything interesting to say about the stuff.
Yes, she says, it’s depressing. Well, I think you’ve done well … taken it on the chin. I get depressed sometimes … well, not depressed really … I’m very lucky … when I think about other people … in a worse position. It’s just getting old I suppose … you know … I think about what you’re going to do with me if … getting near the end … I try not to think about it.
There can’t be many people, I say, who don’t think about those things.
I suppose, she says, it’s with me head being a bit worse recently … and living in this place, that’s made me feel like an old person … I’m afraid I’m just becoming an old biddy. But I’ve got friends – there’s Kevin, though I’m not entirely happy about that … buying me a cake everyday … you know, I get more attention now than I ever did … you know, with your dad.
Well, I say, he was –
I’ve always been lucky with friends … that’s one thing I’ve been lucky with, she says, getting on with people. I haven’t got much of a brain … it’s my own fault, I hated school – talked too much. The only thing I was good at was English – which is a bit funny. I had that kind of mind. I used to sit at the back of the classroom – just like you did. My only triumph was one time when the teacher went round the class asking for the answer – nobody knew – he got to me, and I said it, what it was.
What was it, I ask.
I can’t remember, she says.
Do you watch, I say, did you watch Who Do You Think You Are?
Oh no, mum says, I can’t watch that, it upsets me too much … I’m super sensitive … I can’t watch things about … where people trace their past. They don’t know what it’s like. To have that … to be able to know what your history is and who you are – we don’t have that. It upsets me still – I suppose ….
Well, I say, it was quite a good one – about this comedian – Josh Widdicombe – you’ve probably seen him on telly. And they traced his ancestors to this bloke who used to wipe Charles the First’s bottom –
Wiped his bum – what a job, mum says.
Apparently it was a good job because it gave you access to the king, and other people would pay him to pass on requests to the king – you know, if they wanted the king to do something for them. And then they traced his origins further back – to Mary Boleyn, so possibly he was directly related to Henry the Eighth – and then to Edward the First. He was flabbergasted.
Deirdre, mum says, she’s a royalist, always going on about them, doesn’t like Meghan – she said that a lot of us can trace our family trees back to royals. Barry – you remember Barry – bit of a snob – well he traced the family tree … found the family came from pig farmers … pig farmers … a bit disappointing.
Probably a lot of money in it, I say.
They did well for themselves, Barry and his brothers. Though not as well, mum says, as Tom – you know, Barry’s dad – he had a very good job at International Combustion. They had a bungalow – Tom and Ethel. A completely different standard of living – they had an inside toilet.
Wasn’t he a bit of a naughty boy, I ask – an affair or something.
I don’t know, mum says, whether it was someone he worked with – a woman at work. I don’t know if it was an affair like they have these days. Yes when she died – Ethel – after she died they found a letter she’d written, under the mattress, telling about it – about him. That’s what I was told anyway.
… and you can freeze them, mum tells me, that was a revelation – when I found that out. I can get two for one at Aldi. And they’re £1.60 at Sainsbury’s, so that’s good. I just can’t open them. My hands. I’m no good with my hands now.
Have you tried a knife, I ask.
Tried that, mum says, I just can’t … can’t open tins either – it’s difficult. I had to ask Marie to do it for me. You know, not everyone will listen to me going on about rubbish … but you do, and I’m grateful for that. I used to go shopping with Helen, in Derby, and we used to walk around, looking at the shops, just talking rubbish.
How is she, I ask.
Oh, she’s alright, mum says. She’s got a busy week next week – flu jab, eye clinic on Monday. I’d forgotten that she has a problem with her eyes. She had a growth – under one eye – a few years ago – a tumour – she had it removed. Now she’s got glaucoma. Those jumpers she sent me, they’re not for me. It’s very generous of her. They’re too young for me … she likes that kind of thing. And I’m not a pink person. Pale pink. She likes bright colours.
Maybe it’s her eyes, I say.
I’m more of a plain Jane, mum says. She said they come in Jade and grey – so we can change them. She was in Marks – in the cafe – with Derek, and she said this woman came up to her and said where did you get that lovely jumper. Here, she said. The woman said, here – what do you mean? She said, here, in this shop. She took some flowers over to Irene. Said she’d never seen her so bad. She was crying – the pain from the hip – the joint grinding. She thinks they won’t be doing the op soon, what with things getting worse – and they’d started preparing her for it, the transfusions and the Covid test.
Oh dear, I say, I’d read in Private Eye that for the first time ever private hospitals are doing more hip and knee operations than the NHS – and not with NHS patients, people are paying for the operations because of waiting lists. And this is after the government gave private hospitals billions to do NHS work – which they haven’t done.
Did you watch Strictly, mum says – that Dan was improving I thought. And his wife was there, in the audience. And you know what … I expected … I thought she would be glam, but she wasn’t … just ordinary … quite plain … lovely.
… all a bit doom and gloom, mum says, those are the only kind of phone calls I get these days – yes, she’s still driving, though I don’t think she should be: and her shoulder’s bad – worse since Mark fell on it. Yes, I’m a very very lucky girl. We’re all getting older. It’d be better if they could press a button and end it all.
I watched that thing on TV, mum says, that drama – it was on over a week – the Long Call. I talked to Helen about it – I didn’t understand it, and neither did she. Seems they’re trying different things – you know I like a beginning and an end. But this was a mystery. They’re trying to make us think. It had Anita Dobson in it, from Coronation Street –
Eastenders, I say –
and I didn’t recognize her – she looked so old – and that actor I like – George Gently – Martin Shaw – he was the same, he looked old. They’re all getting older. We all get older. I’ve felt … different … it’s hard to explain. They have the same things on over and over. The Karen Carpenter Story – I’ve seen that several times – always the same.
You’d think they could come up with a different ending, I say, less depressing.
She dies, mum says. She got married you know. Yes, I’m very lucky – though I do feel different. Christine said on the phone that she thought there were certain birthdays that change you – you feel different. You have all these birthdays and you feel the same – then you have one, and you feel different. I’ve felt different for the past six months. What’s all this about the spiking, spiking drinks aren’t they?
I’d thought that they were using needles, I say, not just putting it in the drink.
I think alcohol is the cause of a lot of the problems, mum says.
Well, I say, you could argue that men are. There was something in The Guardian, a study of young men at university – a sample of 600 or so I think, and a third of them admitted to having committed some kind of sexual assault.
Proud of it probably, mum says.
Well, that’s what they admitted for this study, I say.
Mind you, she says –
I know what you’re going to say, I say.
The thing is, she says –
Yeah, I know what –
The thing is that some of these women bring it on themselves, mum says.
You mean the way they dress, I say.
I think they’re asking for it, she says.
A woman can dress how she wants, I say, but that doesn’t give a man the right to force himself on her.
No, she says. And the drinking. All the alcohol. I think that causes a lot of the trouble. What people will do when they’re drunk. And black men want white women don’t they.
I don’t think race has anything to do with it, I say, white men can rape too –
Black women, she says.
You know that most rape cases don’t get to court, I say, the police aren’t interested, and the courts have got a backlog of cases of all kinds, what with the cuts.
Yes, she says, it’s the drinking that causes a lot of trouble. I blame TV.
A Smoke Screen 