The Wanderlust Lady and the Door to Door Salesman - 1

July 31, 2012

Where ever I go these days, I feel like people are staring at me.

Watching me. It makes me uncomfortable.

I'm a perfectly normal person - just asking to be left alone. I know

that some people think of me as an odd ball - because I don't conform

to how they think someone of my age and intelligence should be

acting. But I'm the only one who needs to know, and certainly the only

one with the right to care or not care about what I do and how I do it.

 

Sometimes when they're having a coffee morning I go into the

"Senior Citizens Hall". How stupid that sounds. How Americanized. It

used to be "The Old Folks Hall" and then it had an honesty about it.

Mostly the others ignore me when I'm there, so I get my cup of tea

with three spoons of sugar, and as many biscuits as I can take without

their noticing, and I go off into a corner to eat in peace. Sometimes, if

the weather is bad and I don't want to go out straight away afterwards,

I get out my book and have a read.

 

The library is my second home. I don't know what I'd do without it -

as it's open, and welcoming, and for the most part, completely

anonymous. Nobody says "How are you?" or "Wouldn't you like to

have a chat?" They just let you get on with choosing your books, and

checking them out with the new card system, where you needn't speak

to or even communicate with a single person if you don't want to. And

nobody minds if you take a book and sit in the corner and just read all

day long. I go through several books a week now. Of course that

depends on what the book is and how many pages it has. War and

Peace took me most of a week on its own. I like the classics. Most

modern books are quite trite - and I only read those when there's

nothing else to tempt me.

 

Some people look at me as if they pity me. They think I'm a bag -

lady - a homeless creature, probably mad, with nowhere to go, and no

one to talk to. I don't need or want their pity. I do have a home - a

perfectly good home - but I don't want to stay there all day. I need to

be outdoors, under the sky when it's fine - and even when it isn't, I

need to spend some time outdoors. I'm not destitute. I get my pension

like everyone else over 60 in this country. It serves me well. My home

is a one-bedroomed semi-detatched bungalow - but plenty big for me. I

only use it for sleeping and the odd meal. Mostly I'm out of doors, in

the great wide world - walking around and taking in the scenes.

 

How I hate it when some do-gooder approaches me to make a

contact. "Hello dearie. How are you today? I expect you’d like a nice

hot meal?" Perhaps she hasn't noticed but I'm not starving. I get plenty

to eat. I just ignore her and keep walking. "So rude," I hear her say

under her breath. Who is she to talk? She's the rude one - making

assumptions about me.

 

I could write a history about Marple. I watch every daffodil come

up and die each spring. I see the trees bud, and leaf and fall. I could tell

you the breed of every dog who walks regularly in the park, and how

pitiful are the owners who drag them along on a lead, or let them off

and then spend their time shouting for the dog to come back.

I like watching the children in the play area - not the ones with

pushy parents, but the ones who are gingerly going down the slide on

their own, and the look of fear replaced by joy as they make their way

down it. I wish I could go on the swings. Sometimes when there's no

one around, near the end of my day, I sneak in a quick one. My long

grey hair flies out behind me, and I remember the rule about pumping

with your legs.

 

I never had children, much less grandchildren - but I can remember

how it felt to be young and free. My parents didn't care how I spent my

free time when I was a child. They were at work all day, and when

school was over, I went to the park, or for a long walk, and just

enjoyed being on my own. I knew when 5 o'clock came, I'd have to

trudge home and conform to what my parents' ideas were of a perfect

child.

 

They didn't speak much to me, about school or anything else - but if

they felt I'd done something wrong, then I certainly knew about it. But

nobody ever asked me what I had for homework - or how things had

gone during the day. Nobody asked what I'd like for tea. I often

wondered if being the only child of elderly parents, that they had not

wanted me, and were only biding their time until I was old enough to

live on my own, and they no longer had to bother about me. I don't

know if they loved me - or whether I loved them. I don't worry about

such things. I just did what I needed to do, and tried to avoid getting

told off.

 

Books were my world back then too. I would go to my room as

soon as tea was over, do my homework and then take one of my books

and read for hours until it was time for sleep.

 

I must admit that sometimes I'm just a bit lonely. I know that if

something happened to me, nobody would know. Nobody would care.

I suppose if I'm honest, I have to admit that the world has not changed

one iota for me having been in it. I never married, have no children. No

siblings, not even any cousins that I know of. And I don't really have

any friends. Nobody to care if I live or die. Not that I'm depressed or

anything. I have no intention of making the world one person emptier.

What I sometimes think that my life needs is a little adventure.

Nothing big - just something that would make me interested in getting

up in the morning - and something to plan for when I lie in bed at

night.

 

Well, it's time to head home, so I'll have to postpone this adventure

plan of mine for another day. Maybe, just maybe, I could take in a

lodger. I'd have to give her the bedroom, but there is an attic which I could make into a bedroom for me.  It'd have to be somebody that I liked - and who left me alone

most of the time. Maybe if it was somebody who was needful - I'd be

doing my bit of good before I leave this world. And at least it would be

somebody to call an ambulance if I collapse on the kitchen floor. I'll

spend sometime tomorrow going through the logistics of how it could

work before I do anything rash like advertising. But I feel good -

having made at least a start on my big adventure.