The friend I shared a meal with the other evening has become the - well, I don't know what her actual title is, but her job involves being concierge and receptionist to the newly-built apartment block for 'retired' people. This position is both comfortable for her and fraught with potential snags. One lady in her 80's is in no way 'Waiting for God' and regularly asks my friend to take sherry with her and accompany her to the cinema, invitations which so far she has managed to avoid without giving offence. The apartments are not yet all inhabited but already there are cliques forming and the concomitant prospect of feuds and jealousies looming, so any perceived 'favouritism' has to be avoided at all costs. I await more interesting stories from this source.
Some of these ladies arrived for their evening meal while we were eating. They are all extremely well turned out and it occured to me that their presence is going to be an attribute to the town - to the numerous hairdressers at least. A few have already been in this shop and given it their approval.
Before WWII this area, along with much of Britain, was going through an uncomfortable recession and the coming of the RAF pulled them out of a downward slide that might otherwise have resulted in serious depopulation and an emptying of the streets. The town could have become like so many along the coast, (until the tourist trade took over from the fishing and farming) a collection of run-down buildings, a ghost of its former self. Maybe this time it's the arrival of the grey pound that will save it?
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