The Next Generation

Coming back from the walking bus this morning I was confronted by a young man in shorts and trainers standing outside our house. My wife thought he was in his pyjamas. He was from next door, had locked himself out and wanted to use our phone. I told him to take a seat and he sat at my desk. We had a number for his landlord, but it turned out to be for Social Services. The young man was asking 'does he work there?' but I knew it was fruitless. In the end I sent him down the road to look for a ladder. This is normally the rule in such circumstances, isn't it? I'm sure at one point, much later, I saw the lady next door striding along with a ladder, but when I looked again she had gone.

I keep thinking I could have helped more.

In the park after school, some small boys were running up and down with one arm outstretched and shouting "I am a Dalek!". After much more running around they began to argue about who was going to be the Doctor and who was going to be the Daleks. One boy kept repeating "I'll be the Tardis".

I'm sure these are the games I played in the early 1970s.