As usual at about five in the afternoon I go to see Marjorie.  Marjorie is on the brink of ninety years old but her scathing wit and vivid use of English turns these visits from a kindness into a daily pleasure.  ‘If you ask me, she’s seen a few bedroom ceilings in ‘er  time’.  Or of a local councillor ‘ ‘appen ‘e found it in ‘is back pocket and ‘as believed in fairies ever since’.   She mimics the neighbours, especially Eleanor, to hilarious effect and is a repository of all the local gossip, although as she almost never leaves her one room it is a mystery how she knows it all.  Today she is pulling the tail of her black cat, to whom she is devoted and who adores having his tail pulled. He arches his back and purrs malevolently.  ‘ Oo you’re a cunning devil, black as that George Osborne you are’.  And then as an afterthought ‘But more beautiful’.

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