the englishman

i know an english gentleman.  he lives near darlington, a place i do not know well, but am fond of nonetheless.  i met him nearly two years ago, at the train station.  it was merely a brief visit snatched on the journey from london to edinburgh.  my aunt and cousins and i hopped off the train and had tea with him and his wife.

when he was a boy, he would watch the planes that flew overhead during world war ii.  he knew them all by heart.  except one.  the plane that flew only at night.  many years later, he made use of the internet and found it.  the p61 black widow. 

he posted his puzzlement on a forum, my great uncle, who had been on the crew for one of the planes, responded, and a correspondence was established.  thanks to this seemingly coincidental connection, we had a new friend to make.

a tall, slender man with close-cropped silver hair and yellowed glasses.  a navy blue "woolly pully" sweater, dark trouseers, an army green coat.  a jaunty black cap, brimmed, trimmed with black braid.  his shoulder bag is also army green, with a spitfire printed on the flap.  twinkling eyes and a sweet smile.  he has seen much, done much, and seems good-natured about it all.

his wife is quieter, but just as sweet in her red wool coat with gold and enamel pins on the lapels.  her glasses are round, her curly brown hair is short and greying.