It’s good to talk
Last week, when the snow lay thickly on the ground, in a rare burst of altruism I picked up the telephone and dialled the number of a frail, elderly and vulnerable member of our community, to ask her if there was anything I could get for her from the village stores. The phone rang and rang and rang. Just as I was about to give up I heard the receiver being fumbled into position and a quavering, phlegm-coated voice say hello.
‘How are you?’ I said. ‘Do you need anything from the shop?’
I ought to have known that getting answers to these simple questions was no easy matter. I was perhaps the first person she’d spoken to for days. Far greater than her need for bread or milk was her need to talk.
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