From the Archives

Viewed through a modern lens, this submission to Life’s Like That 65 years ago is pretty creepy. Please address your letters of complaint to December 1950. A pretty young matron, walking through a sparsely settled district toward the bus stop one morning, realised she was being followed. Not wishing to turn and look, she increased her pace. The footsteps accelerated, too. Reaching a thickly populated area, she slowed down. The unknown did likewise.

At the bus stop she turned to face the offender; to her amazement it was the courtly old gentleman from next door. “Why, Mr Ashby,” she exclaimed, “you frightened me. Why in the world didn’t you speak or catch up with me?”

The old man doffed his hat and bowed. “Well, ma’am, I was having a debate with myself as to whether to catch up with you and enjoy the conversation, or stay behind and enjoy the view.”