Just who is Denise Bradbury?
We know very few things about her – she’s a woman of mature years and, apparently, she lives at our house.
But only as far as insurance company mailshots are concerned.
And they’re all for over-50s life cover and the like, so she must be in that sort of ballpark, age-wise.
But I’d like to think we’d have noticed her living here. Maybe not when we were both working, but certainly now while I’m floating round the house like an unemployed ghost.
Even at our most unobservant, I’d like to think we’d spot an aging lady kicking about the place. We only have one bathroom, for example, so she’d have to use that to go to the loo… maybe she’s got really good at holding it – cystitis be damned – and only goes when we are sleeping.
Perhaps I should leave her post in there on the off-chance she’ll pick it up. At least it would save me scribbling “not known at this address” on things and sending them back.
Not that it seems to stop stuff coming. Maybe I should change tactics – write “who dis?” or just “NO!” underlined a number of times close to infinity.
And, from the other point of view, is Denise Bradbury out in the world somewhere entirely uninsured for a life policy point of view. What of her family? Will they get anything if the worst should happen? I mean, we have established she’s playing fast and loose with bladder infections.
And will they turn up here if something does happen?
At least that way we could get some closure on the woman who doesn’t live here now nor in the past, to the best of our knowledge.
Unless, like I say, she’s hiding somewhere until we go to bed and then she lives her life like the elves who helped the shoemaker.
Except she doesn’t help. She just has random mailshots sent to our house.
Who is she?