Across our street, there is a red brick building, sitting several stories high on the opposite side of the canal. It was built not that long
ago, although thinking now it must be at least ten, even before we left for
America. It is social housing and doesn’t look that bad compared to other
buildings built for the same purpose, as a consequence of the red brick.
All the inhabitants are way beyond retirement age, bundled
together at the edge of the neighborhood they were born in.
The building blocks our horizon, as it sits right in front
of our window, just across the canal. This means I cannot just look out of the
window to see what kind of weather it is. I have to walk up close and strain my
neck looking up at the strip of blue or grey or white cumulus, peeking over the
top of the red brick to know if I should wear a jacket or not.
I have taken to watching my neighbors instead. It looks like
they live in little boxes, as that is how the building was designed. They will
pop in and out, sliding across their gallery. They seem to hang around the
building a lot, enjoying each others company When it is warmish, they will be
picking the leaves off their geraniums in the morning, watering them a bit and when that
is done they will sit together on the windowsill, with their doors wide open,
chatting. There is a bigger lady who talks more than the rest.
On really warm days they will migrate to the tiled strip
alongside the water around about 11, pull out their plastic chairs and mill
around in their sarongs and swimsuits. The bigger lady, still talking, manages
to persuade two men to rub sunscreen into her wrinkled shoulders at the same
time, one shoulder each, as another lady who has distanced herself with a
lounger, looks on in distaste.
On these days I know no jacket is needed.
On medium days, I see the elderly gentlemen act with
purpose in the storage spaces, down at the waterside, one often wearing a
combination of yellow and pink, walking back
and forth until their business is done.
Then a light jacket might be needed.
When it is cold, the weather people stay inside. Sometimes
visitors come in thick coats and ring the doorbells. I will see the faces of
the weather people pop up behind their curtains, cautiously looking out, before
they let their visitors in.
S1
