The old soldier

This time last week I bumped into a very old friend and colleague I had not seen for about 8 years. At one time whenever we went into Town shopping, we would meet, unplanned but we always seemed to be in the same place at the time. Usually he was going for a sharp haircut at an upmarket salon. He had been a Guardsman, old school, and polished his shoes each night before work until you could see your face in them. He did his own ironing because his wife of 30 years was, in his words, incapable of getting a knife-edge pleat in his trousers and his shirts just didn't pass muster. You get the picture. For all that, he's salt of the earth, warm, funny and has a delicious wit and a disarming smile. He's about 10 years older than me but seemingly from a different generation. In a management meeting years ago I was 'in the chair' and getting stroppy with another colleague about plant efficencies. "Any further questions?" I barked to the room at large.

"Tell me?" pipes up my mate, "Would that be black tights or black stockings you're wearing today?" In those days sexist remarks like that were just banter, particularly as I, a lone female amidst 50-odd men, was in charge.

"I don't wish to answer such an affront to my dignity" I countered, "Clear off back to the coal-face and get working." Only then was it pointed out that I was in fact wearing jeans.

Things changed however, we supported him and his family when he was made redundant at the same time I was and from the same firm. He went on to get another much lower paid job and was made redundant again. His wife who is in the NHS, had job description alterations, changed hours and more damningly, pay cuts. Again we continued to visit, never turning up empty handed, always with a jar of coffee or a treat or a take-away and they struggled proudly on. Eventually on the up again they gave WH an old, unwanted piece of furniture in exchange for some work he had done for them. It fell apart on the way home. After a visit from WH and youngest step-daughter they promised to ring WH the following week about some matter or other. The call never came. Then WH was made redundant in a big factory closure, they must have known but never phoned. So time went on and the ties were lost. Suddenly out of the blue a daughter rang and asked if we would go to a surprise Wedding Anniversary celebration, Yes, love to we said, let us know where and when, we never found out. At a funeral of a mutual friend WH spoke and was ignored. He has never found out why. In the last eight years I have not set eyes on any of the family at all. We presumed they had moved, maybe abroad, Cyprus was a possibility years ago.

Until last Saturday that is. Returning to the car rather overladen with cheap vegetables, I saw this stooped figure shuffle through the doorway of the shopping arcade. He tried to straighten up and then proceeded forward in a really unsteady gait. I surveyed the face. OMG it was my friend. Gone was the sharp haircut which now had a floppy Hugh Grant appearance no longer jet- black but gunmetal grey. The face smiled back, the same big grin but somehow lopsided. He reached out as I approached him and slapped a big sloppy kiss on my cheek. The old soldier would have kissed my hand; he's like that.

In a halting and strained voice he asked how I was, how's the family, how's WH, still running me ragged? I made small talk, I couldn't talk about our ups and downs when confronted with someone whose fortunes had obviously changed a good deal more than mine had. I asked the same questions in return.

The reply struck me like a thunderbolt. He'd got Motor Neurone Disease, had it 3 years, had given up work and driving. The previous week he'd been told the medics could do no more, just wait for time to take it's course. Suddenly the last eight years fell away and it doesn't even matter any more, it's all crap after this revelation. Water under the bridge.

"How's the wife?" I asked, " Same as ever, has to be with me to look after."

We were stood outside a coffee shop by then, "Let's go for a coffee" I suggested, the old phrase we used at work when things were going pear-shaped and we were in the thick of it.

"Can't," he said, "I'm going to get my hair done, I've got an appointment." Some things never change.

"Same place?" I asked, "up the stairs?"

"Well yes, but I have to go up in the goods lift now." And some things do change.

"Come and see us," he said, "it will be like old times." We're going next week to try and re-create some.