An Old neighbour of mine

I made the following report on MYT (Daily Telegraph blog) in July 13 2011.

I bumped into the old guy the other day. We often exchange pleasantries, hellos and hows the family kind of thing. He walks with a stick and a limp and his wife is in and out of hospital. More in than out.

He could be late 70’s, his face is aged and so is his body – but he walks everywhere and there is no fat on him. He looked thin this time. His last accident occurred when 3 Somalian youths knocked him over (though it was not a racist incident).

He told me his wife was in hospital, again. He seemed angry and continued – the hospital had let her home, and he had asked for a zimmer frame. They said one would arrive before her – it did not. She got up, fell over, because she did not have a frame, and had to go back to hospital – she was home for 2 and a half hours, and back in hospital for over a week because of the fall.

Oh – the hospital had given her a zimmer frame 3 months ago, but it snapped.

While he was telling me this he swore a few times and apologised, and he said Enoch Powell was right – they don't care about us anymore.

I thought about what I had seen in my 43 years, my work experience in social housing, the changes to my local community and country and what I had read and seen. In my previous life when i encountered comments like this I would say something along the lines of ‘its the same for everyone’

But this time I thought what should I say – I don't want to come across bitter and angry, but then again I want to say what is the truth, so I looked him in the eye and said you are right.

The next day I was in Tescos, waiting to pay, when this encounter came to mind. I thought I would take the opportunity to count the children I see, and note their race – there were 8 kids, they were all black. I asked the cashier for a pen and wrote down the number 8, so I would not forget.

I remember hearing and seeing the phrase Enoch was right and I used to think it was Nazi nutters – well Enoch was right, and I am not.

I bumped into him again today (23.09.2011).

He is a very frail looking old man, slight stoop, thick glasses, old tatty clothes, walking stick, short. But he walks everywhere.

He told me earlier that he had been robbed by 4 Somalian lads (aged 18ish) they asked him for some money, he told them to earn it, they knocked him to the ground and took it. He told me and Mrs Pym that his side was still hurting.

I asked him if he reported it – and I think this may be the saddest thing – ‘what is the point’.