Keep in the loop. Write something.

It’s hot here today.  We’re going to have about four days of heat – the weather person said something like that – but, with me, opinion goes in one ear and out the other.

I’m wearing a new blue top.  Don’t you have difficulty getting underwear?  I do.

Ah!  I know what I was getting round to saying.  I met that awful woman again – the one I’ve been avoiding all winter (walking on the other side of the road all the time so that I wouldn’t bump into her).

She was out on her own, without her dogs – that is unusual, but I have been seeing them, over the winter, with other people – I gathered that she must have been asking neighbours and friends to walk them (while she got her knee and hip sorted out) – she had a painful knee, the pain from which spread, over the times I saw her – it was an exceptionally warm summer last year – to her hip.  What I’m saying is, she seemed to be out all times, walking her dogs – but just up and down that one stretch – she never seemed to be going anywhere – just looking for people to talk to – and once she had you, that was it – you couldn’t get away.

I can’t go on telling this story just now – but – these days, the pain is in her upper back where your bra strap goes – no mention of her knee or hip – and since she didn’t, I wasn’t going to – but this was why I was thinking of underwear – and she moved to the side of me – and I didn’t flinch – and she reached round me, and touched me to illustrate, as she was saying this – just where the bra strap goes.

Not that I wear one.

Or – I’ll wear one so loose it hardly does the bizz – when it’s too hot for my vest.  (But it hadn’t been that day.)

But why couldn’t she have touched her own – where her bra goes – to illustrate?

She did that before – I can’t remember what that was about, except that she had pain in her knee that was spreading up into her hip – but it was – touch my hand, touch my hand . . .

I was starting to get sore with her constant flicking.  I am somewhat arthritic myself.

Or some fact like that which the doctors can’t agree upon . . .

Swollen round the joints sometimes, I am – it used to be worse – heat in the hip areas (and she’s on about her pain) – too hot at night – the only person in the neighbourhood to have my bedroom window open when it is – snowing outside . . .

I don’t mind being touched, but she was annoyingly rhythmic about it.

I don’t mind being hugged by family and friends but this woman is creepy – was a boss at the chemical plant – a bossy boss, she’d divulged.  She had been driving since she was eight years old, she confided.

Private land, I said.

Well, yes, she answered.

(Well it had to be private land.  People aren’t allowed on the road – no matter how young they are – until they have passed their test.)

She had some tablets from the doctor.

I asked what they were.  (I’m keeping an eye on what doctors do and do not do.)

And she said they were small, in a little red box – drawing the box in the air as she said this – I got the impression she thought I was going too far in asking what medication she was on.

So I said – well, I never know which cars are which – I talk about ‘little red ones that have a wheel on each corner’.

I was being upright straight.

And I drew it in the air.

It was only later that I thought what that must have looked like – but she’s a bully – I can’t be doing with it – I may think, on my surface, that I’m responding in an ordinary way – but I tell you – I’ve been opening my throat chakras, and my inner takes care of what my outer may shrink from.

Do you know – I don’t like that woman.  I shall continue having as little to do with her as possible.

And, despite myself, I’ve told that much of that story.