Monday, September 01, 2008

[the road to the library] a life story


His name is Tony, a bit over 60, like, wearing a baseball cap to hide his baldness, quite well dressed all considering, quite soft in manner and to tell the truth, looked a bit bewildered.

He asked me if I knew the way to the police station and I said straight down Beverley Road but he'd probably have to press the call button which connects to the main station. He said he needed to talk to them personal, like.

I said he'd need to go to the main station - did he know where it was? Yes. He started walking in the direction of the railway station towards which I was also heading and he wasn't moving any too steadily but definitely not drunk. He was mentally sharp.

As we walked, he told his tale.

He was in a nice place down one of the crescents, he'd made £25 yesterday so that was a windfall and then, on the way out of the chemists, four youths had started to follow him. As he entered the street next across from his home, they pulled balaclavas over their heads and sped up towards him.

He panicked and ran into a sidestreet which turned out to be a dead end, then ran up to a house with a light on inside but whoever was in there wasn't answering. [I said at this point it might have been better to show he was bald and a pensioner - he might have had the door answered that way.]

They set on him and beat him up, broke a bone in his arm and later he was found, taken to hospital and kept overnight. He was now carrying a carrier-bag of documents to show the police but of course there are no police. He talked of that and somehow we got onto the topic of rubbish bins and how they won't collect your rubbish and he said yeah, tell me about it.

He'd had a nervous breakdown in the late 70s, his wife had now gone, the family had moved out to Australia and basically he was alone. Not complaining, mind, he said. He had £25 at home he'd received yesterday and he had a nice place in XXXX Crescent and was quite happy.

You don't expect to get mugged, do you, he wondered. You read about it in the papers but you don't expect it to happen to you, do you?

He was in some pain so I asked and it was more the head that was the problem so I gave him a paracetamol and walked him as far as the library, telling him I'd most like be there when he got away from the police station and I now half hope he'll turn up and we'll go for a cuppa.

I feel a bit sheepish really because I don't think I did all I could. I should have gone to the police station and might do that now. I was given succour over the weekend myself and the lift was enormous.

As you know, there's been lots of action around here and John Hirst has been great the way he has put me up and up with me. Also on the weekend, I met Andrew Allison for real and his lovely wife Becky. When I say "met", I mean they killed the fatted calf and cottage pie was one of the results.

Another was a mobile phone which I'm now the proud owner of and I was and still am lost for words over that. We shifted a few pints the night before, down by the Humber and I'd like to think I paid my way there at least. I have a mental list now of what I can do to return this sort of kindness and I'm dying to find a base soon so I can start the road back.

JMB wrote of me being a modern day pilgrim. I can assure her that this was not my choice by any means and I'm seeking the day when I can look around four walls and say to myself that this is my place and all my friends are welcome to come and stay [not all at the same time please].

Some details on the state of the pensioner in Britain

11 comments:

  1. If you are going to be modern day pilgrim you should at least consider doing it in a warm country.

    The North East of England sounds pretty bleak to be poor.

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  2. I suppose the poor man was lucky it was "only" his arm. That sort of thing leaves you feeling rather helpless.

    The kindness of friends (and others) is one of the things that proves life is worth living.

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  3. It's said the stories are lying on the road.
    They do.
    Good post, James, and all my good wishes.

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  4. So many hard luck stories out there and it doesn't seem fair that these things happen, especially to the vulnerable.
    I guess saying you were like a modern pilgrim was trying to give your search for a place to settle down again a noble purpose instead of being the difficult situation that it is. Nobody wishes you find it soon more than I do.

    Best wishes James and a hug.

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  5. This country doesn't seem to be a very nice place to be at the moment. Not far from where I live a similar thing happened last week...

    At least he had you to help him out today!

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  6. Crime certainly seems to be on the rise at the moment in Hull. You have to more careful than usual which part of the city you are walking in.

    Thanks for a lovely weekend too, James. It's good to see you are working out how to use the mobile.

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  7. It's awful, the little bastards picking on the vulnerable like that.

    I hope the time when you are settled down comes soon James.

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  8. Colin - hmmm.

    Dragonstar - True.

    Sean - thanks.

    JMB - the hug gratefully returned.

    Cherie - yes but what were the chances?

    Rob - it's all around.

    Andrew - thanks you once again and yes - it was wonderful.

    Sally - indeed.

    Jams - I hope so too. This is a kind interlude just now but a permanent spot of my own is where I'm headed.

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