Jean has been on my mind. We met on my first visit to the local launderette in late January. Upon opening the door I was greeted by a lady focusing her attention on me and a smiling young man appearing pleased to see me, walking past and out the door. The reason for his speedy departure become clear as Jean approached and requested help with putting her money in the machine to start her wash. I took the measure of her and did not feel threatened, sensing she was someone that would be easy to dismiss and ignore. I had an hour wait while my washing swished about, so we began to talk.
Jean was 74, but will be 75 now her birthday was on the 24th February. We share a birth month and she wished me many happy returns and asked that I wish her the same. Her disabled husband was at home and had been moaning about a lack of clean pants, hence lugging her trolly of washing to the launderette. It turned out we lived on the same road, though Jean is not happy in her ground floor flat, telling me she found it dark and depressing. She is on medication for depression and wants to move into sheltered housing but can't take her much loved dog there, so is in limbo. She was born in Paddington to a scottish mother and a geordie father, and her stepdad had come from Birmingham. I wondered aloud if that was why her accent wasn't very London, she replied, 'I don't have an accent, I'm from London', which is something my mum surprised me with once, her and Jean are of the same era. Jean and I have scottish heritage in common and she had never been to Scotland but would have liked to go. Jean was crestfallen and concerned for me when I mentioned I didn't believe in God, she said a prayer, then asked me to repeat another asking Jesus to forgive me for not believing. She asked me to kiss her cheek and though I would not normally be compliant to such a request, felt in this case that it would bring her joy, and it did. There is a great epidemic of untouched people, and it is troubling.
Jean told me she had a son who would be 60, born on the 20th December 1952, when she was just 15. She told a little of the birth and how it had hurt, that she kept him a week or so but being underage he was taken away. She thinks she saw him at 5 years old, when a little boy came to her door and tears had streamed down her face. A couple of years later she saw a boy in the shop where she worked and recognised him. Jean never saw him again. 'Do you think he remembers me?', I reassured her that he did and must wonder about her. Jean mentioned she sometimes cries at night over her son, 60 years on. Her husband had been understanding of her past when they married.
Towards the end of our conversation she mentioned she had been happiest in her life when living in Cricklewood with her husband, though someone had broken into their home and cut up her clothes. Police said she must have an enemy, though she never found out who.
Jean's parting advice to me was to wear my charm bracelet inherited from my cousin Krysia. It will bring me luck. I hurried home with an aching heart and hung out my washing, I wanted to give Jean something so wrote her a birthday card and rushed back to the launderette, she was still there and I gave her the card and we shook hands and said goodbye. I'll be leaving Dyne Road in a week, so will probably not bump into jean again. She reminded me of the stories strangers hold, how listening and responding to another gives both parties something. I'm glad to have met Jean and wish her well.
Jean was 74, but will be 75 now her birthday was on the 24th February. We share a birth month and she wished me many happy returns and asked that I wish her the same. Her disabled husband was at home and had been moaning about a lack of clean pants, hence lugging her trolly of washing to the launderette. It turned out we lived on the same road, though Jean is not happy in her ground floor flat, telling me she found it dark and depressing. She is on medication for depression and wants to move into sheltered housing but can't take her much loved dog there, so is in limbo. She was born in Paddington to a scottish mother and a geordie father, and her stepdad had come from Birmingham. I wondered aloud if that was why her accent wasn't very London, she replied, 'I don't have an accent, I'm from London', which is something my mum surprised me with once, her and Jean are of the same era. Jean and I have scottish heritage in common and she had never been to Scotland but would have liked to go. Jean was crestfallen and concerned for me when I mentioned I didn't believe in God, she said a prayer, then asked me to repeat another asking Jesus to forgive me for not believing. She asked me to kiss her cheek and though I would not normally be compliant to such a request, felt in this case that it would bring her joy, and it did. There is a great epidemic of untouched people, and it is troubling.
Jean told me she had a son who would be 60, born on the 20th December 1952, when she was just 15. She told a little of the birth and how it had hurt, that she kept him a week or so but being underage he was taken away. She thinks she saw him at 5 years old, when a little boy came to her door and tears had streamed down her face. A couple of years later she saw a boy in the shop where she worked and recognised him. Jean never saw him again. 'Do you think he remembers me?', I reassured her that he did and must wonder about her. Jean mentioned she sometimes cries at night over her son, 60 years on. Her husband had been understanding of her past when they married.
Towards the end of our conversation she mentioned she had been happiest in her life when living in Cricklewood with her husband, though someone had broken into their home and cut up her clothes. Police said she must have an enemy, though she never found out who.
Jean's parting advice to me was to wear my charm bracelet inherited from my cousin Krysia. It will bring me luck. I hurried home with an aching heart and hung out my washing, I wanted to give Jean something so wrote her a birthday card and rushed back to the launderette, she was still there and I gave her the card and we shook hands and said goodbye. I'll be leaving Dyne Road in a week, so will probably not bump into jean again. She reminded me of the stories strangers hold, how listening and responding to another gives both parties something. I'm glad to have met Jean and wish her well.
