I think the universe is trying to make a point with me. It started with the cleavage wrinkles as detailed in yesterday’s post. Then I had this email exchange today with a London colleague:
From: X To: American in the Cotswolds Sent: Fri Aug 22 10:05
were you on a bus to Harrow Road last night?! or have I gone mad….
From: American in the Cotswolds Sent: 22 August 10:20 To: X
Yes, would have been – I live up by the canal!
From: X To: American in the Cotswolds Sent: Fri Aug 22 10:35
I recognised your watch (!) and then followed you off to see if it was you but you had disappeared (hahahaha not stalking! I live on Fernhead)See you again soon
From: American in the Cotswolds Sent: 22 August 10:39 To: X
Too funny – yes, I live on Hormead or Hellmead as my husband likes to call it.
From: X To: American in the Cotswolds Sent: Fri Aug 22 10:40
Blimey, can’t be as bad as Fernhead [the road parallel], which I call Crackhead Road
I stopped short of replying to him that I am fairly certain the Fernhead Road crack dealer lives in the flat upstairs.
And then, as if to provide a carrot after the stick, the universe produced the following interaction for me to observe as I sat tapping away in the Internet cafe/coffee shop I frequent when I work from “home” in the Cotswolds:
An elderly gentleman on a motorized scooter came into the cafe to use the cash machine. As his motorized scooter got in the way of his ability to actually use the case machine, the woman behind the counter came over and offered to assist him. There was some discussion and confusion over PIN numbers, which he shared openly with the woman. She patiently worked through the various issues including whether or not the card had expired before concluding the gentleman should make a telephone call to his bank. He thanked her and went on his way. The whole thing took about ten minutes of her time, which she gave as freely and naturally as she would to her own grandfather.
All I could think the whole time was what on earth would this man do if he lived in London? Surely his bank account would be cleared in minutes if he shared his PIN with a stranger on the street. Nevermind his scooter, which probably would have been stolen out from under him. Two more points for growing old in the Cotswolds.
