Sometime in early July…
“Hello! May I join you at this table if it’s alright?”
The elderly but spry man approached me, looking to sit in the chair opposite mine at the Swansea city library. I welcomed him, and we immediately hit it off.
The Englishman-turned-honorary Welshman’s friendly demeanour was warm and welcoming, like those of so many other elderly persons I regularly meet at the library nowadays.
“I’m quite deaf…” he often said, reminding me to speak slightly louder than usual even though we met in a library. I thought of informing him about my own defective auditory problem but skipped it for now. His 85 years and my 43 weren't really comparable.
Like any good Englishman, he rarely missed a quip on the weather. Sometimes I’d, too, go faux British with a “Great day, eh?” if only to amuse him. He’d look out of the library window with stretched arms and a happy smile.
Around the fourth or fifth time we met, I walked away after the usual pleasantries, then turned around and walked back to him to finally ask: “Hey, I keep forgetting this…what is your name?”
He was lost as my voice hadn't reached him. I repeated my question, only slightly louder. He smiled, put his hand to his pinna, and said, “Teff…”
….
Over the next few months, we greeted and politely enquired about each other’s well-being and weekends, before passing the day’s edition of The Telegraph. I would often do a slightly louder-than-usual, "Hello Teff..." for his benefit.
We bantered; Teff briefly narrated his 85-year history as an Englishman in Wales, a banker, and an average British Joe. On my part, I fed—often twice over, given his hearing problem—his curiosity about India and my job as a journalist.
Teff is chubby but looks at least two decades younger than his age. A Tory voter, he is also a practitioner of Tai Chi and meditates regularly. He was widowed 25 years ago. He then made a girlfriend with whom he lived in his home of eight decades till she, too, died two years ago. Now he lives alone and is enjoying it.
“I am not going to be around forever, so I’m giving these last few days of mine my everything,” Teff said.
Two weeks ago, I told him that I needed someone to give me the British view on current affairs. Two days after he promised to look around, he offered his own service.
I was glad. I couldn’t have asked for a more experienced and enthusiastic Briton. So that was fixed. The first two and most obvious subjects for starters: The average Briton’s relationship with the monarchy and next year’s national election. Yesterday, over a cup of mocha, we had a good insightful hour-long discussion on these subjects.
After wrapping it up, I told him we should next go with “Israel-Palestine” and Britain's controversial “High-Speed Rail”. He put his hand to the ear and said, “Sorry…?” Teff then suggested I email him the subjects so that he could come prepared.
“Sure, gimme your ID.”
He wrote it down: davidmaddox****@gmail.com
I looked at him, perplexed. “David Maddox?”
Teff put his finger to his pinna again and said, “Eh? Sorry…Deaf”
I sighed, nodded, and mumbled: “So am I Teff, I mean David…So am I!”
