Do you Remember Jopseph?

Joseph Nathaniel France used to leave his office at the end of his work day on Church Street Basseterre, walk a little way down the street with his brown leather bag under his arm. I remember the bag looking a bit tattered. I don't know if it had a handle, because it was always under his arm when I saw him.
 He would turn west, walk over College Street, past Sprot Street where Mrs. Sprot used to have her private school, and where the Chinese now have their big-ish supermarket, and where the American Peace Corps once occupied before the Chinese started using it as their storehouse.
 France used to  pass the Electric Light Department and the ice plant which used to be on the left side of him as he passed. He would pass the Church of God building where Sister Frazer used to have church on Sunday morning, long before Reverend Allan Turner, the first black American preacher I ever met in my life revolutionized church singing and church preaching on this little island. First time I ever saw a choir in robes was when Allen Turner was the pastor in that little church that used to be rammed pack on Sunday morning. That man knew how to make an organ bawl. Joseph N. France would pass that and then pass all the avenues: Fiennes Avenue, Malone Avenue, Shaw Avenue, Thibou Avenue, then he would get to Five Ways that was not named Five Ways until Mr. Merchant had a little eatery there which he called Five Ways. When I was growing up I never counted the ways. It was just the road to turn up by the hospital, as far as I know.
Joseph N. France knew he was nearing the Cunningham Hospital, part of which has now been turned into the Charles Halbert Library.
 Charles Halbert was Joseph N. France's good friend. In those days big men knew how to get along well. Charles Halbert had a damaged nose that they say he got during the Second World War, and so he talked with a kind of snuffle which rude little children teased him about when he passed through McKnight where he lived with his wife.
 Mr. Halbert, France's good friend, used to have a book store on the corner of lower Market Street and Central Street, right in front of where the plumbing shop is at the moment. Halbert used to sell some very big, hardcover books inside there.
 France would then pass the home for nurses on the left side of the Cunningham Hospital, now the Library and College, and soon he would be walking along by the cemetery. That time the cemetery had a fence that is now gone in the rapture, and that nobody bothered to build back because, after all,  it's only a cemetery.
 France would then turn right just above the cemetery, walk a little way up the road, take out his key, open his door and enter his simple home until he got up the following morning and walked the same route back to his office with his bag under his arm. Sometimes, if he was lucky, he would meet Robert Llewellyn Bradshaw driving to work in his antique car that everybody said was bullet proof , and Mr. Bradshaw would give him a drop to his office, then drive a little further down the road, if he had driven down Church Street, and let Mr. Halbert off so he could go to work at his bookstore.
Wonder if J.N. France ever dreamed of driving an SUV.