Monday February 2nd - When Charlie Met Ken

About 18 months ago, a man began coming into the shop on a regular basis. As I learned nearly a year later, his name was Ken. He was always dressed practically for whatever the prevailing weather conditions were. In the summer, a Panama hat complimented his shirt and shorts combo where as in the winter a knitted red and blue scarf, warm jacket and Russian Cossack style hat were the order of the day. Coincidentally, the weather would be one of his first and most used conversation starters with me.

Ken looked like how you might expect your mates Grandad to look. Around 70 years of age, short, slightly hunched back who tended to favour a slow shuffle rather than a walk. Facially his most interesting feature were his slightly pointed upper front teeth. They sort of reminded me of upside down white picket fence posts. And though he was always fairly upbeat rarely did I see those teeth crack a big smile. That I would have to wait for until the Christmas of 2008.

One thing that struck me immediately was that he was not completely well mentally. His style of behaviour was uncommon, though I couldn't diagnose what the problem was. He would always fire questions at me that i think he already knew the answers to but it was like he needed confirmation. Deep seated insecurities I pondered, possibly a difficult past that had taken it's toll on him psychologically? Things would become clearer as our friendship developed.

During the early days he would slalom in and out of the card stands and now and again would actually buy something. Strangely, he nearly always bought cards in two's, which led to me think that he was some kind of Noah's Ark enthusiast. He was always affable, occasionally the repetition of our discussions would grate on me but I thought here is a man who gets a real satisfaction from our little chit chats so thought better of my pettiness.

Mondays were usually Ken's choice of visiting day as he worked the three following days. Usually around half past eleven I'd look up from the Telegraph crossword and see his familiar face. As time went on he became more comfortable in my presence, telling the odd terrible joke that I always gave a fake chuckle too. He would always laugh at his own gag, which i found more amusing than the joke itself. Some of our encounters went on for about 15 minutes, and he often got in the way of customers but he was never any bother. He went as far as to tell me that other shops had told him to leave as the staff weren't allowed to chat so I made it my mission to give him some time on a Monday.

Our friendship was taken to the next level on a day that I wasn't even working. Whilst on holiday, Ken ventured into the shop only to see that I wasn't there. Legend has it that he asked where I was (I have no idea how he described me!) and my 'funny' bosses told him that 'Charlie' was away on holiday. So on that special day, to Ken, I became known as Charlie. And I am still known as Charlie today. The first few times Ken used this moniker I failed to respond but over time I started to remember and embraced my new found pseudonym. It was at this point that I first learned that his name was indeed Ken. It was a name I wasn't to forgot in a hurry.

Monday morning banter with Ken became a regular fixture in my week and although I never really looked forward to it, it did break up what was traditionally a quiet time of the day, and as I discovered, it had become part of his daily routine so I never begrudged his visits. The weather, Reading Football Club, his work colleagues and what he was doing for the rest of the day were the normal topics of discussion. Occasionally, he would present me with a problem that was troubling him, he did worry an awful lot. In this light I could see he was as a very gentle, caring man, never wanting to offend or upset anyone as it clearly affected him. He wasn't at his best when analysing situations. I did what I could to provide rational responses that I hope he understood and gave him the reassurance he needed.

As the festive season approached, our friendship became official. The first Monday in December and Ken popped in to deliver a Christmas card to me that simply read 'To Charlie, from Ken'.
Then this happened...

Ken: "Friends give each other Christmas cards, don't they Charlie?"

Me: "I suppose they do Ken"

Ken: "So does that make us friends then Charlie?"

Me: "I guess it does Ken"

It was like Facebook in the real world. He requested my friendship and I duly accepted. Twas a very sweet moment. However, the best was yet to come. I now had to decide whether to return this seasonal cheer with a card of my own. For the next two visits Ken left cardless as I waited for the opportune moment to make my move. I chose a safe design with a cat wearing a Santa hat, Ken will find that funny I resolved.

His next visit featured a very brief chat as the shop was absolutely manic and I couldn't spare a moment. As Ken prepared to depart I called his name and he turned around. I handed him the card and wished him a Merry Christmas and something magical happened because I have never seen a man smile so much in all my life. After he opened the envelope his eyes danced over the uncomplicated message (To Ken, From Charlie) with excitable energy and he said thank you with such genuine exuberance that I could have cried. He marched triumphantly out the shop and walked down the street clutching the card as tight as he could, his smile lighting up Queen Victoria St, absolutely beaming. I have no idea where he was going but I hope he told all he met of the Christmas card he got from a man, sorry, his friend, called Charlie.





Nico