Pillow-talk
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 ...