Dear Stranger,

The day did not start well. My mother in hospital having suffered from a stroke had taken a turn for the worse overnight. It was imperative that I should come and see her the following day as although slightly better, she could deteriorate again. The kind lady who cares for her suggested we went in by bus and the London Underground as I did not fancy doing battle with the capital’s traffic on a weekend.

I drove the forty five minutes to collect her from my home in Buckinghamshire. Heavy of spirit but waiting patiently at a roundabout a battered Mercedes swept by, its young passenger giving me the two finger salute for not other reason than he thought it was funny. Yeah, ha ha, its not something I really needed at that moment. Arriving outside the house I spilt the contents of my handbag whilst searching for the key. Once inside, my mother’s carer gathered her things and we were on our way.

I haven’t travelled by bus for many years and was shocked to see how full it was on a Sunday. My friend is in her sixties, has arthritis and uses a walking stick but nobody got up to give her their seat. I wondered if chivalry was dead. Dead in London most likely!

As we got on the tube a man of foreign origin walked past and spat on the platform, urgh! Didn’t this use to be illegal in this country? Its disgusting behaviour and very unhygienic I’m sure, people will walk on that and carry it into their houses, not a very pleasant thought.

At the hospital, after a long uncomfotable journey on the train,the lifts were being temperamental and with mother being on the 9th floor this was no joke! However we did find one that worked and soon were able to sit with my mother which was depressing. She used to be a vibrant woman, I admit difficult too, but had plenty to say on every subject. Now she lay on her bed drifting in and out of sleep and when she spoke her speech was very muffled due to the stroke having paralysed the left side of her mouth. After a couple of hours we decided to make our way home while there was still good daylight.

We popped into a MacDonalds and took our snacks to eat whilst waiting for the train.On the platform, pigeons bobbed their heads up and down watching us hopefully and so they got most of our bun and fries; no going to bed hungry for them! We talked about how sweet they were but the woman on the bench told us off for feeding and encouraging “rats with wings.” My opinion that even pigeons have to eat was not well recieved and she got on her train with a parting insult thrown our way. Oh well, our train would come soon and after the bus journey one of us would be home and the other could drive wearily back to Bucks.