I looked up this morning and smiled at a fellow passenger. We gave each
other a smug look, because we were both reading the same paper; one we'd
bought, not the freesheet that's given out. Then I realised I'd seen
the same guy every day this week, because I'd got the same train, in the
same carriage, every day. Stan's been on the school trip and I've been
able to spend quality time with his mum and brother, catch up on my
sleep, watch some TV, go out, and spend more time at work. All the things
that I imagine I'd do if Stan didn't have a learning disability. But I
can only imagine Stan putting his hand to his mouth and saying, as he
does, "boooooring". I've become a boring old fart. And I've loved every
minute. So he's on his way back, and all I can say, is thank goodnesss,
because Stan can sometimes bring chaos, and I hope that's keeping me a
little younger. Next week, if I see newspaper guy, I'm going to ignore
him.
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