The Wise Woman

When you give your age in halves, you're either very young or very old - I mean, four and a half or ninety-four and a half. I can't remember if she is ninety-five and a half or ninety-six and a half, but I was staying near her last week and rang up, asking if I could call. She first became a helper and mentor to me over twenty years ago, and has been a supportive friend ever since.

She was delighted at the prospect of getting together. 'I can't do hospitality the way I used to, it'll just be a cup of tea'. I said that I'd make the tea.

I knew she moves slowly now, and doesn't get out very much. I decided I wouldn't stay long, and would watch for any signs of tiring on her part. No longer than an hour, I thought.

She may move more slowly, but her eyes are as bright as ever, and her reception as warm. Her voice and her spirit are strong. The trolley was already set with oatcakes and cheese, cake made by a friend, her own home-made shortbread, and the pretty china, and she wouldn't let me make the tea - she did it herself as usual, China tea in the silver teapot. She asked after my family, and in no time we were talking about what we'd been reading - mostly what she'd been reading, because she still has little heaps around the house of books which are 'on the go'. She's reading Teilhard de Chardin, various other books of theology, and all sorts of things about educational theory and practice. She's delighted at the way children now are taught to use sign language before they can speak. We discussed developments within the church, and I struggled to keep up as her brilliant mind leapt from one topic to another. Mostly, I think, we discussed the education of heart and mind, and how perilously it has been neglected.

I watched for signs of flagging, and there weren't any. She looked with great attention at the pictures of the wedding last June, reading the faces as she always does. I'd forgotten just how perceptive she is. She looked at the artwork for my next book, absorbing all the detail, not just of how it looked, but why it was done that way. We were discussing old friends when a neighbour arrived to fix her computer. I hadn't realised that she's on e-mail, so we exchanged addresses.

I could have happily stayed all afternoon, but, as I told you, I didn't want to tire her, and I needed to call at an office before it closed at five. When I made moves to go, she offered to drive me to the town centre. This I firmly refused. It was, after all, a lovely afternoon for walking down the hill.

I was there for two and a half hours, and she shone with life and joy for every witty, wise, funny, learned moment of it. Leaving her, I felt I was taking her with me. I think that's what happens when you've been in the presence of a Great Soul.