There was a body lying at the end of the verandah of the church hall when we arrived for our last Toastmasters meeting. It was a homeless man, rolled up in a grubby doonah, sound asleep.
“Some people will camp over-night just to be the first here,” commented one of our members.
Just after our meeting began, the man came to the door and looked in. He reached in and patted the the guide dog that belongs to one of our members, then disappeared into the night. He looked quite a nice fellow.
The meeting proceeded as usual until near the end of the evening, when the raffle was drawn. The winner of the raffle leapt to her feet with a shriek of triumph. Homer, the guide dog, must have thought she was being attacked and barked excitedly. He wouldn’t settle down, so his owner let him out the door. There, the barking increased and I felt uneasy, thinking of the strange man outside.
After the meeting, I went down to the roadway to bring in our Toastmasters sign. The man was sitting on a seat outside the church. I felt it would be rude to walk past & ignore him, so I stopped and said hello. (It was okay, there were plenty of people around, getting into their cars.)
We each introduced ourselves.
“I hope we weren’t too noisy for you,” I said.
“No, sorry I upset the dog,” he said.
“He was already stirred up,” I told him about the raffle.
“I sleep here,” he said. He was really quite pleasant to talk to. “There are graves here, you know.” There is a small graveyard by the church. I wonder if it bothers him.
He waved when I drove off.
I don’t know how many homeless people are in our area. We don’t see many around the streets – but I know there are some about. The “Bag Lady,” used to be a familiar sight. She always carried a big blue & red striped bag, but the name really derived from the smaller plastic bag that she wore on her head. She often used to come into our jumble sales and rummage through the stuff, but she never bought anything and wouldn’t accept anything we tried to give her. I don’t know what happened to her, but last year I heard that she had died.
We don’t see people begging on nearly every street corner and sleeping in doorways, as I saw when I was in San Francisco a few years ago. I still think of them on winter nights when I’m cosy and warm in my bed.
They are not so visible here, but I know there are some that sleep in the park, and under the bridge, and probably a lot more places.
An evening at Mum’s
We had Pizza at Mum’s place the other night. Joel & Frances brought Miles & Hayley. The kids were getting tired by the end of the evening. I read Hayley some stories. One of them was “The Three Little Pigs.” We got as far as the second little pig…
“And the big bad wolf,” interjected Hayley.
“The wolf doesn’t come into it yet,” I said.
“No, the wolf didn’t come in a jet,” said Hayley. (I really must try to enunciate more clearly!)
So then we made up a story about the wolf knocking down the houses with his jet plane and getting it stuck in the window.
Miles was lying on the floor, almost asleep. He started to sneeze.
“Miles, get up off the floor,” said Frances. “You’re breathing in carpet!”
“Yes,” said Mum. “I don’t want to lose all my carpet!”
The cat leapt in fright and ran outside as we all shouted with laughter.
