VISITING GRANDAD

We went to see Grandad. He was pleased to see us, when we woke him up.
‘You still smoking?’ I said.
‘Yes, yes. I’ve got some here. You want one?’
‘No, but these two want to go for a smoke in the smoking room so you got to come with us.’
‘Okay,’ he said and pulled himself up on to the zimmer was in front of where he’d sat.
He looks well.
‘You look well,’ I said.
‘Yes, yes. You think so?’
‘What’s the food like here, is it alright?’ I said.
‘Yes, it’s very good.’
He told me the story he tells me every time I visit about Harry Dolman handing out pound notes through the window of his Rolls to City fans on match day. ‘I’ve never seen it,’ he says. ‘But I heard them say, “Harry was handing them out again today.”’
‘I’m just going to pop out to the shop,’ I said.
I needed some fresh air, a break from the smoking room is small and with the three of them puffing away as much as they can in the time available.
I sat on the bench in the car park, ate the bombay mix and read the paper I’d bought from the newsagent opposite.
By the time we left we’d been there an hour.