On my way to work this morning I passed an elderly gentleman. He looked as if he were going to the shops.
He was wearing lime green sweat pants and an olive green anorak. I bet he didn't have a wife. Why are old widowers such a pathetic sight, so much sadder-looking than old widows? I hate it when I see them in a shop buying what is obviously food for one. I think it's because they're of a generation when the woman looked after her man; and I am of a generation that is used to seeing our grandmothers, mothers even, looking after their men. To see them alone then makes them appear lost and lonely. I'm sure they are all perfectly capable of cooking and seeing to their own needs - except perhaps when it comes choosing clothes.
When I got into work, I was telling my boss about the man's trousers and anorak and I didn't need to finish my sentence: she finished it for me. 'I bet John would be like that if he didn't have Megan!' (John was one of the founders of our church and is notorious for buying his clothes in car boot sales.)