I had this ironic encounter in 1971. I worked for Extra Care Cleaning company, as a cleaner of nursing homes and commercial premises. Twice a week I polished floors at a Caulfield nursing home. A suburban Victorian house had been converted to meet the requirements of ten ladies in need of total care. They were accommodated in three small wards. As I moved about their beds with my industrial polisher, I liked to chat to each if they were conscious of my presence.

     One particular lady was always most friendly. I spent a little extra time in her space, talking of current affairs and dreams. The usual phlegmatic mention of weather wasn’t for this soul.

     I was bearded, with shoulder length hair, as has been my wont throughout my adult life. Perhaps, an appearance not readily accepted by the elderly. More than likely, associated with rebellious youth.

     When Christmas approached that year, I only received one personal gift from any client of the various nursing homes I visited. My dear acquaintance that so enjoyed our conversations for ten or so minutes, twice a week, presented me with a gift wrapped box of chocolates.

     That woman was totally blind!