Caught the Courts man 12 hours ago on his bike stopped on a path at the Haig. Chap had been seen there before at the same time, beneath the sheltered walkway, pausing for some reason with the wheels between his legs. Boyish in the company polo. It was heartening hearing Helen’s report of the government survey man couple months before, commenting how nice he found the Courts man. My, my! That was reassuring. There was an impulse to report the compliment. Hey, you know that survey guy few weeks back?… In the year or two prior to Covid the man’s Viet girlfriend had not returned; now neither these 14 months later. Visa probs possibly, or else funds dried up. Heavy smoker, coughing his guts out upstairs, trying to clear his nasal passage in the echoing bathroom. When he turns on a smile that guy, it’s a helluva thing. Musta been generously hosted, the survey guy on his rounds. 10-11 hour shifts at the store in his particular department, white goods from memory. Evenings you could hear the man returning with his bicycle, coming in through the narrow opening. Earlier it was Wahyu’s sandal slapping that had echoed out there. Young Calvin from one of the capsule rooms upstairs had a brisk shoe-tap. The taciturn Toyota guy with the Viet karaoke girls was away somewhere again, his sedan parked up the side outside the bedroom window. Apparently, according to Auntie Helen, the Toyota actually comes alive and speaks to landlord Tan. (Respecting money, according to Helen.) After he was told the other day of the wearying prayers in early teens, trying to remember all the unfortunates who needed mention before signing off and getting under the covers, dear old Zainuddin reported that he had the very same problem currently, in his late-seventies, wearying himself out with the catalogue of all those in serious need of succour.
