The Purple Lady

Intricacies, I love them. Twisting, turning, conundrums working back, in and around themselves. Some say "oh, the complex web we weave" as if it were a shame we had even started something. Me? I can't wait. I toil at that loom of tale-telling. I want to be a good person though. I don't believe people should get too hurt, or poisoned, or die or anything. Dark, dark life. Sometimes so dark you just can not find your way out so you just have to go deeper - and that was the mistake I made on February 4th 1976. It all began quite nicely, I got up as usual woolly-headed and in need of tea to revive. Two cups in a row - one for me and one for my elderly mother - and then to work! I make lists, many lists to remind myself of what is to be done. I must have my lists in supreme order otherwise I have to start again. For example, if I am to start at home with the basics such as cleaning my teeth, tidying up after mother, and end with some supplies from my local shop - I just simply must have it all in order. First I will write the order in which I will definitely do them and can not perform shopping tasks unless my list is written in order of how the aisles are laid out. Goodness, I've spent so much time shopping and not shopping, abandoning baskets and even been most unfairly accused of shoplifting all because I've had to go out and start all over again. I need to know in advance if they change the aisles around as I my shopping simply can't be done to the list of the day if that is the case. You might think it's the same with my appearance. I know people look at me and mother in the street. I'd like to think they are interested but probably not. You see, not many people know but black and lilac (all versions of except mother cheats and wears pink which makes me ashamed) are colours that sing to the soul. I dye my hair black and always wear my cats-eye sunglasses to protect my eyes. I've worn them so long now I'm used to the view from that side. Sometimes I sleep in them which can be a little uncomfortable but you can get used to it. I bought Iris my mother a pair. They were quite hard to come by as they are not so fashionable now. She hates them but I make her wear them when we are out together as we must be protected. I never wear shoes as such, just plimsolls. I like the nice soft white ones from Woolworth's. I only go to the childrens section as it makes me feel like the little girl that I am. My mother says I'm too old and that I pad about too much. She cries and says I creep up on her all the time. Well I do. I like to frighten her but she's not quite sure. That's why I wear them. And I'm creeping now. She can't hear me. She can't see me. And I don't think she ever will.

(This excerpt is based on a real person I used to see when I was growing up. We used to call her 'the purple lady'. She was quite an ecccentric and used to pad around Barnes dressed head to toe in mauve and black. Her hair was jet black and she used to wear the most pointy 50's sunglasses, with creepy little white pristine plimsolls on her feet. She occasionally used to drag her mother out who was dressed like a podgy overgrown little girl - hair in bunches and ankle socks with lace trim. They were a bizarre couple. I often wondered what the inside of their house was like. The mother died and the purple lady wasn't seen out so much. Last siting about two year ago which for some reason prompted me write this rather mean and cruel little story).