January 2, 2016
We have a man called Steven living on this estate. He’s got a very soft, sweet personality. If you meet him on a bus, he will keep asking you the time every half minute or so. He will also remind you that his birthday is in December and not to forget to give him a card. ‘I like toy cars,’ he will say. ‘In a box.’ This is the third year I’ve given him a card and a toy car. It’s a pleasure and costs little. The first year I put the gift outside the wrong door. The second year he wasn’t home and I gave it to his care-worker. He turned 60 this December. He wasn’t home yet again but I made sure I left the toy car (in a box) and card outside the right door. I bumped into him yesterday at the movies in Camden. He was in a group with a care-worker. ‘Did you get my gift?’ I asked. ‘Oh,’ he said, confused. ‘I don’t know. I don’t remember.’ There was a pause. ‘But don’t forget my birthday this year. I’ll be 61.’
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