Open Writing

A few yards in front of me an elderly man stumbled and fell. Somebody stepped over him. I went forward and helped him up.

Thanks,' he said, 'very kind of you.'

'Not at all,' I said. 'Here, you dropped this . . . hm, a biography of Asquith.'

'Yes, I used to be a history teacher, you see. I've never lost interest in the subject, I'm glad to say.'

That's good to hear... By the way, are you all right? Not too shaken? Do you have far to go?'

'Only as far as the bus stop, just along there.'

'I'll walk with you.'

There's no need.'

'I've plenty of time.'

'Plenty of time? Are you retired, then, like me?'

'Yes,' I said, 'and I used to be a - '

'You know, I've never been able to fathom Asquith. I thought Roy Jenkins's biography of him was too deferential and reticent . . . There were sides to Asquith that weren't very pleasant, in my opinion.'

'Indeed there were,' I said, guiding him along the pavement.

'That doesn't mean I think Lloyd George was any better in the, shall we say, morals department,' he said, 'because he wasn't... At least, not in my opinion.'

'Yes, I agree that Lloyd George had his failings, but - '

'What did you say you used to do?' he asked as we reached the bus stop.

'Well, now,' I said, 'here's a coincidence ... I taught history, just like you.'

He gave me a look. 'Oh, no,' he said, 'nobody taught history like me.'