Guardian Angel

Here we are again. Nothing else of any import has happened since I last wrote, but thinking about the flat incident, I do feel that the policeman was right and that I did have a lucky escape. Maybe if I had been a younger person or a different type of woman? I may have fond myself in real trouble, but as it was I lost neither my money nor anything else! I reckon my Guardian Angel is growing ulcers the size of ping-pong balls up there working so hard to look after me. I have a cute little picture of him (remember my little pictures?) I can see him just over a year ago going to the Chief Guardian Angel and saying "Look `ere Guv, I need a rest - even a 2nd class Guardian Angel can break up under too much work load you know and I need a holiday now or I won’t answer for the consequences". I can see the worried look come over the Chief's face as he looks up my record and ponders on the situation and studies the nervous twitch that affects my personal 2nd class Guardian Angel every few seconds. Then I can see hem write out a chitty placing my Guardian Angel on top priority for a long holiday - on medical grounds - and I shouldn't be at all surprised if it wasn't then engineered for me to go to Bristol for a year, where it is all quiet, uneventful and dull, so that my Guardian Angel could have a compete break and recuperate. As a sequel to that I can now see my Guardian Angel writing out a Private and Confidential note to his Chief on which he has scrawled in a nervous hand, in block capital letters "REQUEST IMMEDIATE TRANSFER" because after a year relaxing with hardly anything to do in Bristol he must be aching all over his little body with the stress and strain of the last few days since I have been back. We are probably both scanning the `Want Ads' together, me for a bed-sit and him for a replacement calm, safe person to look after. Poor chap!

Grace Russ - 27th October 1978