May 2019

One of my regulars, a flamboyantly dressed gentleman with a rather camp voice tells me he is “73 and has 5 children by 4 different women – and ten grandchildren.”

He’s in the construction industry, but would rather be a singer and sometimes does perform in clubs.  He has a lot of blingy jewelry, a big watch (sadly wasted on me as I have no ability to judge what’s real and what’s costume with jewelry) and an obsession with staying young, He dies his hair “and I’ve spent 10,000 dollars on this nose and I’m thinking of going back and having these re-done.” He rubs the spot on his temples where laughter lines normally grow.  His are oddly smooth and shiny.  I tell him he looks fine.

“Aren’t you lovely,” he says. He’s a sweet guy.

He’s not so open with everyone.  I caught him talking to a younger, prettier woman the other day.

“Yes I’m 73 and have ten grandchildren.  You wouldn’t know, would you?  Nobody thinks I look 73.  I eat a lot of vegetables.  I swear by them.”

Clearly he doesn’t tell everyone his secrets. Probably he doesn’t think me worth impressing.  But I can live with that.

Around mid-afternoon the cleaning and catering staff from the hospital come in. I avoid one older woman with badly dyed red hair and a long Australian face, because, as she plods up the ramp like an old horse, all she does is moan at the lateness of trains and how that terrible hill up to the station will be the end of her after a long shift. You cannot get a smile from her. She’s a glass completely empty kind of person.
The small group of Nepalese staff are more like a flock of noisy sparrows, no doubt bonded by their shared experiences of displacement, They’re puffed out by the hill but happy to chat and joke about late trains. Lately I’m delighted to see they have taken the Australian woman under their wing. They gather round her laughing, dragging and chivying her along, all puffing up the hill together to make the train. She smiles more these days.

OMG. I’ve just written a parable about the virtues of immigration. All taken from life, I assure you.