The further adventures of Stan -21 -the end

January 25, 2016

I haven't written anything more since Stan left. I haven't felt like writing – and didn't feel there was much to say. I guess in reality, as it was at his suggestion that I took it up, I was writing about him, and for him, and although I didn't want or expect him to read it, now that there is no chance that he ever will read it, there doesn't seem much point in continuing it.

But I will bring thestory up to date before I stop writing.

A week ago, I moved into my new house. And as luck would have it, a buyer was found for my old house very quickly and  the new people moved into there at the same time. My girls came to help me move, and took much of the spare furniture  with them. My garage is chock a block with my son's bits and pieces, and he will have to decide what he wants and what can be thrown.

Mr. MrGinnity who owned this house previously gave me his new address and phone number, and
told me to contact him with any problems. As it turns out, there were several things that needed his attention like the lock on one of the doors not working – and a handle for the garage door. So he has been over and I find that I like him very much.

And the strangest thing is that he told me to call him Fred ( although his initials on all the paper work for the sale were CF. And suddenly everything fell into place. This man is Stan's good friend, who got him going on the painting business. And this very house that I am now living in, was the one that he lived in for those months when he was pretending to be the owner, first of all – and then doing it up before it was sold. And the person it was sold to, was none other than Fred, who I have now bought it from. Such a small world.

Stan is still living in a room in the house I found for him. He puts a small amount each month into my bank account , as we arranged before he moved out – and by summer time will have paid me back for his holiday and the other loan. I haven't invited him over here, or even given him my address – and don't intend to. Somehow the thought that he lived here before would make it harder than ever for me to refuse him if he asked to come to live here with me.

Maybe one days things will be easier between us. But for the moment I am enjoying my new house and have not felt lonely or worried by being on my own.

Sven sent me a Christmas card, with an invitation to come and visit him in the spring, and I will consider it. I could combine it with a trip to see my son.

I've started on tidying up the garden – cutting the hedge back by several feet – much to the annoyance of the man who lives next door, but it makes the house and garden so much lighter. I removed the three large fence panels and replaced them with a trellis for my clematis and honeysuckles. I got rid of the high gate by accident – but it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. I backed into the driveway, and somehow knocked into it, and the whole thing fell flat on the ground. It cost me £200 to get somebody to clean up the mess, but now that the house is visible from the road, it doesn't look like a prison anymore.

Maybe in ten years time if Stan should come knocking on my door, selling something. I might
invite him in. And who knows maybe by then we both would be old enough and wise enough to become good friends.

Epilogue

When I started to write this story a few months ago, I was intending for the love interest between Stan and Liz to work. I was modelling it on Madge and Michael, a couple that I know from bridge. She is 25 years older than he is, and they have been together for 45 years. He was a handyman –
and came to repair something in her house – and more or less moved in shortly after that.

I have asked them about their life together, because even now, when he is 72 and she is 97, they are still pretty happy. Although now he is much more of a carer than a partner. She has great trouble with her eyesight and her memory is going. Her bridge playing is about as bad as it can get, and people have to be very patient and polite. They never married, and although she had two children (one has since died) Michael never had any of his own. But he was 30 and divorced when they met, and she also was divorced a very feisty 55. Her children had long since left the area.

Their relationship certainly ten years ago when I met them, was very loving and happy. Madge was the boss, and Michael willingly did whatever she wanted. He didn't have the slightest interest in learning bridge, but learned it to please her. I feel sorry for him, because so much of his life which should still be active and full, is spent taking care of her, but I have never heard him complain.

I only hope that when Madge eventually dies, that Michael will find some young and pretty lady who will be willing to take him on, and give him the same sort of life as he gave Madge.