it's tricky isn't it.
years ago i knew a very interesting woman, well she'd had an interesting life, much older than me.
she shared a lot of her life with me, not really a conversation, but difficult times she had lived through and not spoken of.
it felt a bit like counselling. i felt she needed to talk it out, and i felt honoured that she trusted me.
so i assumed there was some connection between us.
but now i'm not so sure. i've had similar experiences since.
i guess that's why people speak with a counsellor or confessor, rather than a friend.
perhaps i got it wrong. it was not a sign of friendship, almost the opposite, a sign that i was not a friend, so could function as a listening ear.
that was at the beginning of our acquaintance. which began when she asked me to give her a lift to a cathedral to hear a speaker.
later she would ramble on about obscure relatives of past neighbours, and i would be baffled. who cares. they were not her intimates. why did she even waste her mind on that.
she also went through the rubbish bin of her lodger, told me that he'd had a take-away. i said that was his business.
she said i've got to know what is going on in my house.
they never stayed long, the lodgers.