Paul Klee's Frying Pan - Part 7

He shook a finger at me. ‘You never know!..laddy.. You never know!
With Adele - anything was possible. I was playing the Satie last night for her - but it's a long time ago and I'm over the shock. Look at the fingers on my left hand.’
He held it up.
‘ I know they’re bony and old, but look at the last two fingers.’
Sure enough they were quite crooked, I hadn’t noticed before.
He smiled and said.
‘ During that stormy last fortnight of our relationship, and both of us spurred on by too much Calvados, Adele hit me a real belter with that frying pan, she used to hang it up like a painting - and it caught me hard as I put my hand up to ward it off – the fingers were broken and never set properly – so yes, I wouldn’t mind Paul Klee’s frying pan.....
It suddenly felt as late as it should be - we had drifted into bemused silence. I saw the Doc down the stairs, and took him to his door and we said our farewells.
As I walked home I passed a group of homeless people having a cider party by an ATM machine - it looked like some deformed golden calf.
As I rounded the museum I was trying to make the Docs dates fit – you never know with the Doc.
The city slept, and all the ATM machines had the homeless huddled by them. The other day I heard someone say - ' Sorrrrry, they don't give change.' and I was trying to figure if that was clever or stupid.