Bert's real name is Albert. Not Bertrand nor Gilbert or Hubert but Albert. Born in east London in 1936, I guess that many baby boys were called Albert in those days.
Over the last two months I had been round to Bert's house several times. Either he wasn't answering or he simply wasn't in. Each time I bellowed through the letterbox, "Bert! It's me - Neil!" but nothing stirred within. Previously, the door had always been unlocked.
Yesterday, in my frustration, I decided to see if the next door neighbour knew what was going on. She told me that the heating system had broken down in Bert's house so he and his grown up son Philip had gone to stay with his ex-wife Pat in another suburb of Sheffield.
Some time ago, Pat had given me her mobile number but I think she got a digit or two wrong so I asked the neighbour if she had Pat's number. Kindly, she wrote it down for me.
Pat was 85 a week ago. Although she is a natural born worrier, she still possesses all her marbles as we say in Yorkshire. In other words, her brain is in good working order.
Married life with Bert had become impossible thirty five years ago. They split up but always stayed in regular contact. After all they had two sons in common. She has told me how nasty Bert could be in the confines of their own home. He was never physically abusive but often got angry and lashed her with his tongue. She couldn't stand it any more so escaped from the pressure cooker of their marriage.
Soon after I got back home, I dialled Pat's number and she apologised for not having kept me informed about the temporary house move. I also got to talk to Bert whose part in the conversation was quite hard to follow. The truth is that he really is losing his marbles now.
Though I have never been there, I know that Pat lives in a small terraced house with two bedrooms. I was curious about the temporary sleeping arrangements.
Pat was happy to explain that she and Bert are sleeping in her double bed but head to toe or top to tail. Imagine that! A spouse you split from thirty five years ago lying next to you in a double bed but the wrong way round. I doubt that it was ever something she imagined happening but she seemed quite cool about it. It isn't stressing her out.
Life is filled with odd twists and turns. I might drive over there some day soon and see how they're getting on. Besides, I need to give Bert the two cans of Bacardi and coke that I bought for him.
from Yorkshire Pudding https://ift.tt/UNBCT98
