The trip to Miss B's was a bit like a farcical comedy. As i arrive, one of the lifts in the block is out of order, and a small crowd of people is gathered by the other, muttering that they have been there a while. Not wanting to keep Miss B waiting I set off up the stairs to the 2nd floor...at which point I realise i misheard and she said the 7th. But no matter, my calves could do with a little extra today and I make it to her door only perspiring slightly. Miss B gives me the cash and bags and I head back down the stairs.

As i reach the lobby, the crowd of confused and annoyed residents has grown. People with walking sticks have decided to sit down, others are standing around assessing their next move and pressing the lift call button in vain hope, whilst more people are arriving from upper floors to reveal that they have been waiting up to 20 minutes for the lift to arrive and although it is moving between floors, something seems to be preventing the doors from opening.

The shop is an efficient one, owing to a very specific list provided by Miss B (even down to the item weights), and I'm soon setting off back to the block. This time I pass the even more crowded lobby, heading straight for the stairs, as residents kindly inform me of their lift issue and commend me for my willingness to walk up. By now the word has spread and it has been confirmed by people on numerous floors that the lift is definitely broken. That's no small matter in a block of 20 floors with many elderly residents and one lift that has already been out of action a while. When I get to Miss B, she somehow seems to know about it despite being housebound. Word clearly moves more efficiently than the lift in this block.

As I drop off the bags with Miss B she engages me in conversation about whether I know anyone who would teach her karate. Despite being in her late seventies, with a walker for her home and a wheelchair for outdoors, she still enjoys practicing her sport, and proudly tells me she can still do all the blocks, holds and kicks, she just needs a class where she can have a support to lean on while she does it. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to recommend anywhere so she resigned herself to continuing with online classes. And so I set off back down to the lobby, encountering some residents on the stairs who had decided to cut their losses and make a go of it, and we congratulate eachother as we pass. Getting to the bottom i find others sitting in lobby chairs, resigned to waiting, keeping themselves entertained by discussing the debacle, and reassuring eachother (and me) that the council has been called.

As i walked off into the gathering dusk I was reminded of Oscar Wilde ~ One broken lift may be regarded as a misfortune, but for both to be broken looks like carelessness. ~ Was the friendly, caring community the neighbours have created (and welcomed me in to) a result of the council's apparent lack of care, or just in spite of it? Maybe this isn't a farce after all, maybe it's a satire.