As our bus crawled along the Strand on Saturday evening I spotted an old man with a beautiful face sat in a doorway. The kind of visage that tells a story; judging from this one his life has not been easy.
He noticed me staring down and waved. I instinctively waved back and smiled. He then procured from the folds of his green overcoat a bottle of amber spirits. He shook it at me and motioned that I should go and join him just as the bus pulled away. I laughed, he laughed and the man say behind us laughed. C. sat in a stoney-faced silence.
I asked later if I'd embarrassed him. "What do you think?".
That'll be a 'yes' then.
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2 comments:
It's little stories like that, that warm the cockles of me heart !
I have found the perfect cure for not having to schlep up and down Oxford St with my beloved. On the last two occasions [one of them with a ouple of his chi-chi friends] I was accosted by a couple of memebers of the street populationwith whom I am on first name terms and who I deal with during my "working hours". This has caused untold shame and misery to Dave and great merryment to me!
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