Author: pete

Yesterday my next door neighbor called over. He’s getting on in years, pushing on to 84 at this point. His problem was that he had seen some young lad in his house causing problems. We have a problem with local kids breaking into houses and robbing them blind, so a local kid in the house would not be totally surprising. The cops were called, people came, itwas al much excitement but no-one was found. About an hour later I left him, under the impression that we had convinced him that there was no-one in the house. About an hour later he came knocking on the door again. He again repeated that he had seen someone in the house. By this time my sister’s boyfriend was visiting so we both went to the house and went through it with a fine tooth-comb. No kids. We’re not completely convinced that there was anyone in the house in the first place, but we again feel that he deserves listening to again, just in case.
You have to bear in mind by this point, he is really agitated, and scared. It’s an awful sight to see a person in such a state of distress, and we were trying all that we could to make him feel safe and secure.
By this stage he’s spent the best part of the afternoon in the house, and I’ve been feeding him tea, and listening to his stories of the past. He’s really really, really difficult to understand, the conversation is slow and painful, but I feel I understand what he’s saying, even if it’s not completely in one piece.
We seem fine until later in the evening. He arrives at the door at about 7.30 pm, absolutely scared out of his wits, saying that the kids have been in his house and have been harassing him when he was up town. I settled him down, he smoked a few cigarettes, had a couple of cups of tea, and I went next door, torch in hand making sure that there was no-one in the house. It took until about 10.30 before he felt he was able to go back to his own house, so I followed him in and practically walked him up to his bed, all the time assuring him that there was no intruder in the house and that I would be in the house for as long a it took him to feel happy. He insistede that he was OK, and practically walked me out of the house.
The next morning, I had my shower and no sooner had I the towel on my head then there was a knock on the door. He was there, telling me that there he had encountered three women sitting on the sofa in his living room, that he could not open the door and had rushed out to the house. Again, I settled him down; a cup of tea, and he smoked a cigarette. By this time, I had completely figured out that he was imagining the intruders in the house. Afger about an hour he left to visit one of the neighbors, and I went next door to have a look around the house. He had left the front door open, and had jammed the key in the back door. He had been so f**king frightened that he had left the house through the front door, which is something he never, ever does.
Long and short of it, he’s gone dotty. It’s only been in the last few days. The cause could be a change in medication, a reduction in the amount of booze he’s drinking, seeing ghosts; I just don’t fucking know. What I do know, is that if he has more visitors than the home help for a solitary half an hour during the day that he might not be in the situation he is in. I would hope to christ that it’s just a temporary aberration, and that he’ll be better soon. He’s living on his own, he’s lonely, and for some reason, I’m able to understand what he’s saying better than a hell of a lot of other people, which makes me even sadder, as it only emphasizes the fact that while I’ve only been in contact with him for a short period.
It only exemplifies my statement. Hug an old person today, because they need it.