A deckchair sitting out on the pavement outside the garages at the curve of Leigh Road caught my eye: “Obviously to be thrown out. Only the canvas needs replacing.”
“But you don’t have any need for a deckchair,” I reminded myself. “When are you going to find the time to replace the canvas? No, leave it, leave it.”
The following day, I came home and found the deckchair still sitting there. The same internal struggle to resist taking it.
This went on for about a week.
One day, I came home and the chair was gone. Relief! No more having to hold myself back. Someone’s found a home for it.
Half an hour later, I had to go upstairs to my old, attic flat, which I’d passed on to Helen and her husband when I was offered the flat downstairs, to speak to her about something. As soon as she opened her front door, I espied the deckchair sitting in the living room!
(London, 1989)
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