(Updated 1.6.24)

“.”

“?”

“!”

“What am I?”

“You are a full stop I have just typed on this piece of paper.”

“Is that all I am?”

“For the moment, until I decide what you will be.”

“I think you will be an eighteen year old girl.”

“I still feel like a dot on your piece of paper although my experience is limited to being a dot, I suppose.”

“Yes, you are, but you are so much more in my head.”

“So am I also in your head?”

“Yes. How am I speaking to you?”

It was a shop day, so I had to bring my smiles, despite everything that had happened. My Dahon folder had caused a few comments when I had boarded the train at Croydon, and once again at Clapham Junction, but that was par for the course. It was still far more convenient than the bus ride into Barnes. Asa I was also covering duty manager that day, I had had to brave the full-on commuter rush into London, and once again I was grateful that the second trip was against the flow and the train a lot emptier.

Charlie

Late last year I was asked to interview a resident of a care home. I was told that he was over ninety but still very lucid. It was in the build-up to Christmas and I couldn’t see the point for a fashion magazine, but his daughters were insistent that he had a story to tell our readers. I had my misgivings, but went along anyway with only my phone to record the interview.

Charlie walked with a frame and guided me back to his room with the help of his daughter Claire. Once seated, he began his tale.