|Art by BERNIE WRIGHTSON, copyright DC COMICS|
A few doors along from me used to live a woman whose name
About fifteen years ago, I would occasionally see Mrs. Smith's
fail so I never saw much of Mrs. Smith herself, apart from the very
six years back, I noticed that the now adult granddaughter and her
boyfriend seemed to be visiting Mrs. Smith quite a lot, if their
frequent comings and goings were anything to go by.
And then one day the penny dropped. Mrs. Smith's grand-
I've no idea if Mrs. Smith is still alive or not, but I wouldn't be
(UPDATE: I later learned that 'Mrs. Smith' passed away on
this. Her house has now been sold to someone who lets it.)
What strikes me as odd is that it can be many months, some-
for ages, and that part of the backdrop of our lives has been altered
window on a daily basis that I haven't seen in years, and wonder where
they are and (if alive) what they're doing now. (Just where is the guy
with the ill-fitting toupee, who my teenage self used to see making
his way to and from the local pub every night? He must've been
one helluva fighter to stop his drinking buddies continually
ripping the p*ss out of him, that's for sure.)
I remember sitting in a cafe in Southsea, back around 1985,
and a distinctly Karloffian-type face (as BERNIE WRIGHTSON
would draw it), dressed in 1950s style clothes under a black overcoat.
I only ever saw him once, maybe twice, but every now and again, my
mind jumps backwards and I wonder what became of him, simply
because I associate him with Southsea and have fond memories
of my time living there, over thirty years ago.
When I'm gone, I wonder if anyone will one day ever wonder
(from afar), everyday part of it.
It would be nice to think so, but somehow I doubt it.