Lonely

I didn't expect to be posting again so soon, but sometimes things happen that really make you see things in a new light!

Last night after a row with H, I was convinced that I sometimes get lonely and that is why I drink. Then this morning, I encountered Mad Matt - a dementing neighbour of my parents- and I realised that I am a selfish piece of shit and I don't kn0w the meaning of loneliness.

I've known Matt from being a small child. He and his wife lived for years in a quaint bungalow at the end of our road (well, the road of my childhood home and still that of my parents), overlooking an alleyway. My Dad has always referred to him as Mad Matt, not because he's had mental health problems but because he's always been slightly eccentric. Sadly, he now has chronic dementia and his wife is in care. 

One of the first Mad Matt stories originates in the late 1990s as my Dad, on his way back from his morning constitutional, found him in the alleyway hunting for his cat. A keen ex army gentleman from the North East he always speaks with a gruff, deep Geordie accent. "Morning, Matt!" said my dad, in a tone that he reserves for Matt. It's reminiscent of Mr Swainey's, "Good morning, Mr Meldrew!"

"Aye, morning! You alright? " Matt growled in his ultra masculine voice. My dad didn't stop to talk, Matt was obviously distracted, looking for his cat. A few steps further and a plaintive, elongated, high pitched, almost singsong cry  of "Tiggy!!" from Matt resounded along the street, the echo ricocheting off the walls of he houses. My dad didn't know where to look!

A few years later, Matt was enraged when a bungalow on the opposite side of the alleyway, facing his house was turned into sheltered housing for the elderly and infirm. One day, I noticed that the wall next to his gate had been knocked down. It was bin day and I assumed that the bin lorry had hit it as it is a very narrow lane. 

"Have you seen the state of that?! He raged, pointing at the semi standing brickwork. It was bound to happen, though, wasn't it? There's bin collections twice a week, them bastards over there with their bloody ambulance four times a day..."

I hastily cut in as I saw one of "Them Bastards" getting into an ambulance supported by a care worker. She was ancient; sweet and prim looking. In my best drama teacher stage voice to cover up his booming blusters I blamed the bin men, "It's not their fault really, they have such a tight turnaround and they're always in such a rush..."

"Don't be daft, man. That wasn't the bin men! That was me! I got so bloody distracted with everything going on, I went straight into it! Look at the back of my car! Twenty five years I've been reversing into my drive with not so much as a scratch! Bastards!"

Anyhow, I digress. Poor Matt is now highly confused and I heard him shouting for help as I passed his house this morning. I panicked and started banging on his window imagining that he must have had a terrible fall but I soon realised that he was shouting "Hello!" into his phone. He came out to see me and agitatedly gave me chapter and verse about how "some bastard" had stolen his lawn mower while he was in the house. The garage door was locked and the grass was sky high but he was convinced and there seemed little point in trying to dissuade him from calling the police. Perhaps the police will pester social services. His neighbour calls social services on a daily basis; he's  not safe to be left by himself and his adult children refuse to claim responsibility for him. Poor guy. 

I've just heard from his next door neighbour that he was sectioned an hour ago. The police had to be called as he was in the shop trying to pay for bread with a shilling and he got aggressive when they wouldn't accept it. 

I've never really known loneliness. A great reason not to drink today, to love my husband and children and to just be happy. Old age comes to us all, so in the words of the old song,

 "Enjoy yourself, it's later than you think!"

Zx