Arvon Writing Retreat (Day 1) - Postcards and Cows

The little old lady, Sally, came into the library, apologizing profusely when she saw me on the couch reading (she'd already seen I was up here on a prior trip).   I tried to look not so recumbent, and she said, “Oh, it's so nice to put one's feet up sometimes.”  

She started looking at the books and reciting one or two authors' names in a reverential sigh, but meant for me to hear.  Then she said, “I do apologize for disturbing you,” and made a feint for the door, obviously hoping for an interception.   I obliged.

“Not at all.”

She said, “Oh, well, do you know, are there any postcards here?'

I shrugged. “No.  I haven't seen any.”

“Oh dear.  Perhaps they keep them in the office?” 

“I don't know.  Maybe.”

“I think they must have them.  And they must be in the office, don't you think?

“Yeah, probably.  I could see them having postcards.”

“Oh, yes.”  She sat down on the couch, looking at me eagerly.  “I mean, you come here and it's such a lovely place, wouldn't it be nice to have some postcards to write everyone to tell them about it?"

I nodded.

“They must have them, I think.  For advertising purposes.  At such and such place, they had them.  Have you been to such and such?”

I shook my head.

“It is in the middle of a cow field in the middle of a farm.  No, it was in the middle of a farm in the middle of a cow field.  And can you imagine, the road was so narrow, there was only one lane.  So if someone came from the other direction, one of you would have to reverse.”  She used lots of hand signals to illustrate the one lane and reversal effect.  “And the cows!  I did say, it was a cow field?  And the cows came and stood on the road.  I asked them what do I do?   And she said, just honk.  So I pressed on the horn, beep beep, and the cow looked at me and then moved aside, so that I could pass. They're that used to cars.  Can you believe that?”  She glanced – no, peeped is more accurate – at me occasionally, as if to judge the effect of this story.   I got the idea it was memorized and her prime offering.  Usually she just stared into her tweedy lap, as if reliving all those lane changes, or stared up at her hands, as she used them to place the cars, cows and lorries in their proper places.