So there I was, sitting on one of two comfy body supporting chairs placed strategically along the side wall facing the Lift, with my legs crossed, gloves and tea cosy hat on my knees and Marlon James' book (The Book of Night Women) in my hands, as I relaxed and read quietly.
I was on the second floor of one of Birmingham City's (United Kingdom) premier purpose built villages for the over 55s, with the eligible residents being able to either buy or rent their lovely apartments from the Council, with the complex being operated under the auspices of Extra Care.
I was impressed by the fact that all the black residents and staff, particularly the residents, all greeted me in a friendly manner, which I reciprocated, except for one black young man who awkwardly walk on by, as I greeted him.
The thing with greeting people you do not know, is which is the best and most face-saving; do you say a polite hello to someone who might be making no attempt to make eye or face contact with you, and risk them ignoring your greeting and you feeling foolish and offended, or do you say nothing, probably only to have them greeting you and you not having time to reciprocate, as they walk on by?
It is somewhat of a gamble.
Anyway, getting back to may lovely couple of hours sitting by the lift of this very large village with its contingent apartments, and its facilities - laundry, shop, gym, restaurants and cafe, etc - for the residents and visitors, I felt a sense of satisfaction and camaraderie with the residents.
A sense of peace, with oneself and with the outside world, which was, for those couple of hours, excluded from my consciousness.
As The Book of Night Women was set in 18th Century Jamaica, my reading of it only reinforced my escapism from any unpleasant realities which might be confronting me in the present.
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