FRANCIS GAY

The cafe was cosy and welcoming, but I was having a bit of a down day. Feeling my age, you could say.

A woman in a wheelchair caught my attention. She looked like she might be in her 80s herself.

What she was talking about, to the woman behind the counter, I didn’t hear, but I heard when she laughed loudly and said: “Of course, I told all the other girls!”

“Girls,” I thought. More than fourscore years, perhaps a gran or great-gran, but she had held on to the girl she was in her heart.

I paid my bill, I added something to the tips bowl, and tipped my hat to the ladies. Or should I say, the girls. Then I strode out into the day, me and the inner boy I was most surprised to find still trotting alongside me.

The day was brighter, better, and full of adventures. He wasn’t part of anyone’s bubble and while he had regular phone calls, they could be taken from the comfort of his armchair. His weekly shop was delivered. He began doing less and less.

In an uncertain world his TV was a great comfort and, before long, his days were spent either in his bed or his armchair. He wasn’t sick but lack of use meant his muscles grew progressively weaker.

When his daughter could finally visit him, she found him almost unable to walk the length of his garden path. But she had a secret weapon to help with! Her grandson was born just before the pandemic and he’s a toddler now.

Regular visits with the little one delight Jim, and they go for increasingly lengthy walks together... one learning, and one re-learning.

The health and the happiness grow and grow.