The Jazz Lounge

Michael

"For fucks sake shut up" were the first words I heard as I started my sax practice session one beautiful sunlit morning. I stopped and looked around, but the beach and promenade were deserted. Maybe I had imagined it. I resumed playing. "Fuck, fuck off" came the response. I sat and pondered what to do. A lively upbeat rendition of 'Who's sorry now' might not be the best course of action and I might get punched. I decided to put my headphones on for a while and listen to a song I was trying to learn. Soon I forgot about the shouting.

Some 20 minutes later a stranger arrived on the scene and sat beside me. I estimated that he was in his mid-30s. He introduced himself as Michael and apologised for shouting at me. "Sorry mate, I was asleep in the shelter over there and you woke me up. I like your playing," he said. I asked if he had had a heavy night but he shook his head and said "No, as the weather is good I have been sleeping down here for the past few days" he added. This somewhat surprised me as he didn't look like someone who slept rough as he was quite neatly dressed in a polo shirt, shorts, and trainers. "Why are you doing that?" I asked. "I normally live at home with my mum but she's got a drink problem and I am currently out of work due to lockdown and we had a row - probably due to both of us being cooped up together all day."

He looked thoughtful for a few moments and then pointed to the music on the stand in front of us. "Are those words?" he asked. I was momentarily taken aback when I realised that he could not read. "No they are musical notes - these are words" as I pointed to the text at the top of the page.

He looked crestfallen. "I never learned to read. I wish I had" he said. "School wasn't for me and I left early. No one said anything - s'pose they were glad to get rid of me."

I asked how difficult it was for him in his day to day life. He explained that his job was 'groundwork' and that he got paid in cash and that he had learned to survive without being able to read or write.

"Would you like to learn to read?" "I don't think I could - it's a bit late now" "Well, I'm not really a teacher but we could give it a go". He pondered for a few moments and then said "ok, as long as you don't tell anyone what we are doing". I agreed.

Thus, began an amazing journey for both of us. I dug out some of the early learning books from the cellar and bought some very basic books from a charity shop. We began with the very basics. At first Michael became frustrated with letters, especially m, n, h, and l. He made progress with the alphabet once we started singing it. We would do about 10 minutes every morning.

We looked around the seafront and explored some of the signs there and began to work out some words. After a hesitant start he began to make progress. He particularly liked the names of animals and birds and was soon able to read short words like fish and bird.

One morning he produced a newspaper which he had found in a bin. It was his prized possession and we used it as the basis for further development.

Michael began to make astonishing progress and we talked about the difference that reading and eventually writing would make to his life. He seemed excited. We both laughed when he pointed out that there were lots of signs around telling people what they should not do on the seafront.

It seemed that he had patched things up a bit at home and that his mum fed him and cleaned his clothes. He still spent the odd day sleeping in the shelter when the weather was nice. He liked to watch the sunsets and sun-rises.

One day Michael didn't turn up, the next day was the same, and the next. He just disappeared. I never saw Michael again. I think about him often. I hope that things improved in his life once the lockdown restrictions were lifted.

I also hope one day that he reads this.