I HAD A BAD NIGHT AFTER THE INCIDENT IN THE PUB.
I was worried about Karl. We'd parted on an awkward note. How would he be feeling? I hadn't handled things well.
My impulse was to get in touch. But I'd made a rule from the beginning never to take the initiative but always to wait for Karl to make the next move.
The young are only interested in themselves, and least of all in old people. The old are there to help them. Once the young have what they want, they forget you. I don't blame them. I was just the same. We're made that way.
But sometimes you do have to take the initiative, you do have to make a move. There are times when the old do know better. I wondered whether this was such an occasion, but decided against it. If Karl needed me, he'd let me know.
Patience. The virtue we need most in old age.
But something else kept me awake. My prostate trouble. Maybe the upset in the pub and my worries afterwards made it worse. Tension, stress, does make many ailments worse, and causes some. Whether the upset caused it or not, that night it was so bad even the strongest analgesics I had in the house didn't dull the pain enough to let me sleep. Up till now it had been worse sometimes more than others, and sometimes it was hardly noticeable. But on the whole it was getting worse all the time.
There's nothing like pain for turning you in on yourself. By morning I wasn't thinking about Karl. My anxiety focused entirely on the prospect of an operation and my horror of hospitals. How much I hate those places! But pain not only turns you in on yourself, it reaches a point when you'd do anything to get rid of it. So I made an appointment to see the doctor. I'd been putting this off in the desperate hope that the trouble might cure itself. But reality kicked in, and I knew the sooner the condition was dealt with the better.
I mention this only because eventually it had repercussions with Karl.
Late that evening, when I was checking my emails for the last time before going to bed, Karl's name appeared on the screen with the following message:
I dictating this on voice recognition program called Dragon. They gave it to me when they were trying to help me at school with my dyslexia, I thought I'd use it now because it might help me to say what I want to say about fur ellas poem because I can do it better dictating than buy typing it though when I was trying to use this machine in the past. It made as many mistakes as when I do it typing. But I don't have to think about spelling or punctuation, if it gets them wrong that is fault not mine and also I forget most of the commands you have to use. I expect there will be even more mistakes but I'm not going to read this because if I do I probably wouldn't send it. So I'm sorry if there are a lot of mistakes
What I want to say to fur ella is I don't know much about poetry so I'm not the right person to ask about it. I do quite like her poem and I think I see what she's getting at which is just another way of saying she wants to know all the stuff about me that I can't tell her, it's just I don't really know what to say, I mean, if you ask me about fishing or rugby or chess. I would know what to say. I can only talk about things that I know about and things that I believe in, yes, please, I'll have a cup, damn, sorry it will have written that down. It was my mum asking if I want a cup of coffee and I forgot the Dragon writes down everything you say
As far as love is concerned there are all sorts of kinds and she wants me to say what I mean about. When it comes to her. I tried to tell her what I think in one of the letters we wrote earlier. I don't think this is getting very far is it. So maybe if you could just write something for me on the lines of. I like her poem, and I'm glad she wrote to me and I do think it's very clever and I hope she can write more and wish I could write a poem to her but I can't, like I explained to you in the pub
What I'd like to do is go somewhere, take a tent and camp out together where there is some decent fishing. We could take the travelling chess set and she could take her book and do her writing while I fish, I think we would get to know each other much better than we can when we only see each other once a week and then not always on our own in private and it's easier to talk I mean about myself in the country when I'm fishing as I think you found out. So maybe I can tell her then the stuff about myself she wants to know
Camping together and living together like that would be a kind of poetry to me living it instead of writing it I could certainly show her what I mean. That sounds like I mean sex. We do talk about sex, it will be no surprise to know we do it but not with plenty of time and private which isn't the best way but I'm not talking about sex I'm talking about living together properly on our own. Even though only for a short time but that would be enough for a start. With her half term holiday coming up I can take a week's holiday from work and I've got all we need, tent, sleeping bags, cooking gear
What do you think would it be a good idea to write something like that to her and if you do could you write it and send it to me so I can send it to her as before
I'm sorry about the business at the pub. I know it upset you. It has upset me to but it all happened so quick and I just acted by instinct and that guy really did ask for it but I'm sorry it happened I should have known better and just walked away but I do have a hot temper sometimes and he hit the spot Karl
This made me smile and raised my spirits. The best relief, if not cure, for most ailments. And because, when the prostate pain is on, it's worse in bed at night, and Karl's email had restored my energy, I was glad of the excuse to put off going to bed and spent an hour drafting what I'd come to think of as "a Fiorella letter" and sent it.
In a covering note, I said:
Seems to me your own typing plus spell-check is a lot better than what Dragon does for you.
Yes, I was upset after the pub, but only because I knew you were. Not your fault. There have been times in my life I've walked away when, looking back, I think it would have been better to stand my ground. But at the time it's hard to know which is best or the right thing to do. I agree, letting the other guy call the shots when the shots are violent, even if you can't avoid it, leaves you feeling the loser. Whatever you do and whatever the outcome, you feel you've let yourself down.
Write it off to experience, which is the name, Oscar Wilde said, we give to our mistakes. Besides, the man who never made a mistake never made anything, as Napoleon is supposed to have said, and he ought to know, he made plenty.
How's the following for Fiorella, who I'm amused to see your Dragon calls fur ella.
Hi, Fiorella [or whatever],
I've read your poem and thought about it a lot. I don't know anything about poetry. I don't read much of it—well, none, to tell the truth—and I don't know what is supposed to make a poem good. But I can see your poem is clever. I mean, the way you use language, like the way you play on the word "know" and "knowing." It also made me think. I can see your poem is really another way of telling me you want to know all about me, and that love is about knowing all about the person you love, and the person you love knowing all about you.
You're probably right. But it isn't easy for me. I'm not sure why. The trouble is, it's hard to write down the answers to what you want to know. And telling you is hard as well, but not as hard as writing. But I haven't told you because we are never alone together for long enough for me to be relaxed the way I need to be to talk about myself.
Also, it seems to me some people are word people, like you, and some are not, like me. People like me need to do something before we can tell you what we want to say. We are action people.
I've thought about this a lot because of your poem, so it has worked like you wanted after all, because I have a suggestion.
As I say above, we need to be together long enough on our own for me to get into the right mood to tell you what you want to know.
My suggestion is that we go away for the week of your half-term holiday to a nice spot I know in the country by a river. We could camp there. I could fish (which helps me to relax a lot). You could read and write (or I could teach you to fish!). You could read me your poetry and explain about it. We could play chess.
Have you camped before? (See, there are things I still don't know about you!) I like it and am pretty good at it. I've got all the gear—big tent, sleeping bags, etc. I like cooking, as you know. You won't have to do any of that, if you don't want to. I will be camp manager, chief cook and bottle washer.
Doing that would be poetry to me.
What do you think?
Karl must have gone to bed late as well, because next morning when I booted up, an email from him was waiting, received at 1:33 a.m.
good, thanks. have sent. lot of work next 2 weeks, overtime as well, wont see you for a bit, will let you know about camping, hope you ok, karl
