An old man sits in an easy chair with a mug of coffee resting in his lap. Gazing out of the window. Listening to the gentle patter of rain hitting the living room window and with easy comforting sounds emanating from a radio in the kitchen he allows his mind to wander.
Michael Jackson sings " you're not alone ", Hall and oates sings " I can't go for that no'o, no can do" , Errol Brown laments " you win again " but is interrupted by some middle-aged sounding happy-jolly-friendly female type talking ten to the dozen, he can't make out what she's saying but even that feels .... easy. Smooth, smooth radio apparently. Where did all the years go? He wonders, seems so long ago now.
He raises his head and looks through the lace curtain not focusing on anything in particular, through Monet's eyes. Whimsical perhaps, but that's how he feels at that moment and he lets the mood take him, smooth,gentle,easy, downtown.... I read of an argument somewhere, that Monet's impressionism was nothing more than the fading, ultimately failing, eyesight of a tired old man. He ponders the thought and lets out a gentle sigh and the thought is no more. What do I know? well, anyway.....
Over the road, across from where he's sitting, on a dull blue/grey canvas, paint [bugger off] tall privet that blocks out the sight of a portland coloured pebble-dashed wall [more dash than pebble nowadays ] of the ground-floor of the house opposite. Out front the shapes of parked cars, shapeless blobs of red white and black almost meld into one. The blackness of the car-windows and the broken images of silver chrome trims.Straight lines become jagged and curves blur as raindrops upon raindrops hit the window-pane and for a moment he feels drowsy. He goes to take a sip of his coffee, ugh! it's cold.
I hear of helpers that are beavering away selflessly in my locale. There's a volunteer-group, apparently, shopping for supplies and running errands for the aged and the less able. We have a food-bank in my town. Who ARE these people ? But more importantly WHERE are these people? And why, until recently, did I not know that they even existed? If I wanted to help/if I NEEDED help, I wouldn't know how or where to begin to look.
Not everyone does facebook and twitter, not everyone is computer-savvy. Remove yourselves from the social media merry-go-round and get your feet in the street where it's really happening, now. Put a few posters up with contact-details. No not on facebook, out there in the real world.
We're constantly bombarded with price-comparison advertisements from energy-suppliers offering "the lowest tariffs", every town should have an advisor. There are so many ways the old and the vulnerable could be helped, what little help and advice that is available is so hard to find. Financial benefits that go unclaimed, physical help, LIKE the food-bank, but who do you talk to when you don't know who to talk to? And so, the needy, go hungry, they go without heating, often alone. So much for politics eh?
I'm sorry if it's a bit scrambled, that's just me I guess.:-k