Stan’s mind starts to wander

Stan put on his hat and went down the spring green garden where a blackbird trilled.The sunlight was very strong,almost glaring in intensity.That’s an interesting word,more commonly used to describe the angry expression on the face of an adult who believed he is a position of power,he thought.
It pains most people to be glared at, he reminded himself.
Stan’s wife Mary had a habit of humming or even singing as she went about her day at work or home.Usually sshe didn’t realise!
He recalled the day she came home from her Art Class to amuse him with a tale of a very wealthy and dominating lady who had suddenly glared at Maru and shrieked,
Is there something wrong with you?
Mary said,
Yes, there is actually. but I don’t usually talk about it except with the doctors.
Why not ? shrieked the woman nastily in her dominatrix style
Well,I thought it might upset folk to hear I am terminally ill but in your case I’ll make an exception.
Well,I don’t give a f*ck, you are annoying, me was the reply that she received.
Even if you are dying right now that is no excuse for humming in the class.
Well,said the teacher,I always thought you were a very superior person,Nancy,but now I hear you insulting my newest pupil in public I believe I was mistaken.
Oh,Mary had told Stan, it seems that humming” Neasden” in the class, albeit unconsciously. is far worse than to be seriously ill.
There is no sense of proportion now…surely anyone can see there is no comparison though I prefer hearing the Trout Quintet,myself,he had told her
Fortunately Mary’s illness had been completely cured by a new drug and she was able to continue her Art and riding her bicycle.Nancy was too proud to apologise but after hearing Mary was going to recover completely she had offered her  a quarter of a broken chocolate biscuit at coffee time.
You are too thin, she admonished Mary,but I have come to like your humming and am even thinking of trying it myself.How do you do it?
I can’t say,Mary answered,it just happens.
I see,said Nancy.Perhaps I’ll go to a singing teacher.
I hope she does instead of coming here,Mary thought as she still glares at me wherever I sit.She’s a bit like those pictures of Saints whose eyes seem to be on you and follow you wherever you sit in the room  in a judgmental way.
Stan’s mind was wandering as he gazed over his fence.He remembered when he first met Mary when her bicycle had been stolen from outside a Public Library and he had helped her to look for it.In fact it was he who had stolen it in order to have an excuse to speak to her.How singularly blue her eyes were when she smiled graciously at any man nearby.As her conscious mind was on a branch of mathematics it left her unconscious free to seek what it desired free of all constraints thus causing mayhem until June when term ended and only the ancient postgraduates were left in the deserted city free to play with non-linear diffferential equations all day blong