Agatha

It’s impossible to take in. I can’t process it now…How long it will take?

I suppose everyone thinks that. I always think it when I am waiting for the bus to take me home. Funny isn’t it? We’re always waiting. Mind you, we’re usually waiting for someone rather than something. Like a bus driver who thinks 20 miles per hour is ‘racing speed’. He was a strange one, now that I think about it. They were all strange there. Myself included. But I seemed to be the most normal stranger in our village. But quirky people are better than boring biddies who insist on telling you about Mrs. Greengrass not attending church for the 28th time. It is amazing how selectively detailed some people’s memories are. Especially when you ask them where they were Sunday morning and how the priest’s sermon went.  He was a dear that priest. A shame he was a Catholic. Otherwise, he’d still be here. Still, the Vatican’s supposed to be nice, even if it is small and cramped. I bet it’s clean though. Those marble floors polished to perfection. I wouldn’t know where to stand let alone sit.

 I believe I am what’s referred to as a ‘country bumpkin’. Although who knows what the term is now? I lost track after ‘sheep shagger’. Something else we northerners have in common with the Welsh, apart from miserable weather and grating accents. But we all lose track now and again. For a while I lost track of where Wales was on a map. But our memories start to fade. The only finger on the pulse is the one you have to check that you’re alive. Believe me as you start to age it gets harder to tell. A lot of things get harder to distinguish. Faces, dogs, the difference between lamps and coat stands (after all its just an upright fuzzy blur), and pop music too. But some things you’ll always be able to tell. Although my eyesight may be considered to be blind to a bat, I can still tell when Betty is thinking about her husband again. Poor dear. She’s never been the same since he failed to return. Worst part is she has no one to be angry at. Grieving is a lot easier to do when you have someone to blame. That’s the tendency of humans. We like to assign blame. To ourselves, strangers, our loved ones. One perk of being old is that even with my hammer sharp senses; I do have a lot of experience in life. Some of which shall remain between me, my diary, and Mr Perkinson from the butchers. He was a proper butcher’s lad.

You don’t see many butchers nowadays. Not real ones, they’re all in Somerfield or whatever it has changed to. No one actually owns a butcher’s shop now, just faceless corporations. That it. It’s the Corp-Op! No wait hang on that’s not it. Co-op. That’s it the Co-op. Such a strange name for a shop. Mind you they all have strange names. Like Sainsbury’s. Who’s ever heard of the word Sainsbury in any other context? All I can think of is the Sainsbury’s who lived three doors down. Lovely family. That mother was a little weird though. Very protective over her kids. Almost suffocatingly so.  Used to always go on about how sick they were, even when they were out playing tear around on their bikes. Sweet boys though, if a little energetic. But then you should use it while you have it right? I remember my friend - Linda was it? Anyway she said that Mrs Sainsbury had something called…. what was the word? Munch house by pixie? No that makes no sense. Anyway, it meant she got attention by claiming that others were sick. If you ask me I’d say she was the only one who was sick…but we mustn’t talk ill of the dead. Poor boys. It was a real shock to all of them. No one expected it, how could you? Mind you it did bring them closer as a family and at the end of the day that's the most you can do in that situation.

Humans’ ability to adapt is fascinating. I once knew a charming man with no arms, who learnt to play Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, using only his feet. Can you imagine it? Mr. Grayson was so astounded I thought his jaw was gonna drop to the floor. He was almost as good as our Susie. Susan. Sorry, she hates me calling her Susie, but she is still my little girl to me (even when she is playing at international concerts). God the cheek of some kids, telling their own mother what to call them. Whatever has the world come to. Can't believe I am saying that. I remember when I was around Susie's age, my mother used to always say it to me. I thought then that I would never say it. I suppose times have changed though. I have got older and wrinklier. I used to wear leather jackets, now I wear leather skin. On the upside though, I can say what I want and just claim senility. It's great. Plus, I can eat whatever I want and never gain any weight! If only this had happened years ago! I've spent the last couple years trying to cram in a lifetime of red velvet cake and tiramisu. And Lindt. You've gotta love a bit of coconut Lindt chocolate. Who was it who didn't like Lindt? Was that Linda? No that cannot be right she used to steal mine all the time. Surprised she didn't try to snatch them out of my mouth. Maybe it was Susie. Could have been. She is a vegetarian except when there's a McDonald’s in sight. Or a KFC. Or a Burger King. Oh what was that funny little restaurant with the steak she always used to love? I'm not kidding she'd see the steak and vacuum it up. You wouldn't see the plate touch the table, it was already in her hands and she was licking the steak residue off. So embarrassing...If a little sweet.