A Bunch of Ben (one)

I guess somewhere, someplace, there is someone reading this blog who has read other parts of it.

Sometimes.

Somehow.

Least ways, I can hope so.

In which case I should probably tell them something about Ben.

Because he’s not mentioned here.

Whereas a lot of other folk less present today are.

Ben is present.

Ok, not right this minute – today it’s just me and the cats.

But there are signs.

Vestiges.

A pile of pallets under a tree that were last summer's end of day drinks table.

An old rusty bed alongside.

An absence where his caravan had been.

I haven’t known Ben very long, about a year and a bit.

At first he was a peripheral visitor, his girlfriend even more so.

We played chess together at the kitchen table.

Only once.

She was good.

But something between boy and girl did not work, and she became even more peripheral.

Whereas Ben moved his caravan into the meadow under the pine tree for the summer.

He asked first.

He’s polite.

Now when he visits he brings flowers.

A nice touch.

He has a new girlfriend too.