"'Ardly need ter go ter Spain at this rate" muttered Tel as he moved the Mails to make room for his accounts book. He meant the balmy weather we've been enjoying. He could, however, have equally been talking about his misgivings at leaving his assistants in charge.....
Welcome back to another WR. It's been an odd week; fulsome weather and warmer skies, a week of Colchester and early finishes for me, a week of amusing forehead-slapping frustration for Tel. This is based on both Mickey and Kaylee's skills in mathematics, or, to be fair, their lack of them. Faced with these two, Professor Higgins would have long since quit and instead gone haunting the slums of the old East End armed with a good, sharp knife.
Monday was the start of it. The shop was busy at 7.45am, people buying papers and twenty Players and packets of mints for the start of a working half-term week. Tel served, commenting to each on purchases ("Yer won' 'ave dog bref after them" he told a young woman who purchased cigarettes and a packet of extra-strong mints with her Mirror. She smiled and then raised her eyebrows as she passed me on her way out). When they'd all gone, he sighed and called Mickey from the back room. "Al'righ' less go over it agin".
"Graham the delivery bloke comes on Tuesdy; now 'e wants payin' in cash. 'E normly charges 'undred'n'thir'y quid. Now..." he produced a buff envelope like a magician from under the counter and then found a black marker, uncapped it and wrote 'GRAYHAM' in bold letters on the front, "...yer need to remember to add the float in the till first and then take the money off it. We started with a two'undred quid float this mornin', so take it out an' count it now" She did this. She made mistakes and started again. Then she counted two fifty pences three times. I'd have stayed for the denouement, but I was late, and Tel's expression had fallen quicker than a Prem footballer near a penalty box.
Tuesday he saw me on his own, gesturing with his head that Mickey was out the back, then whispering that he was having a few misgivings about leaving her and Kaylee in charge. "Jus' turned bleedin' fick, the pair of 'em. Can't even do the simple stuff. Plus they both go for a fag at the same time and leave the back door wide open. Anyone could walk in and nick me stock by the time they've finished". He gave me a look, and then Mickey came in to serve. "Alright love?" said Tel, scanning my paper with deliberate care. He sniffed the air. "'Ad anuvver fag while you were sortin' the stock?".
We met for a drink on Thursday rather than Friday, as Tel was meeting Paula and I was meeting my new amour. He was there when I turned up, pint half swigged, eating dry roasted peanuts and chatting to Jamie the landlord. I'd promised to drive him and Mrs Tel to Stansted on Thursday next week for their holiday. It seemed to have come round very quickly, as these things do. We sat and chatted, him distractedly about the shop, although he was a bit more reassured that Mickey could cope. It sounded false when he said it.
He told me about Paula and Blake, admitting that he'd thought something was up a while ago. Blake had started asking him for recommendations on jewellers. Tel had recommended Berridges in Ipswich. "I fought after that they'd be a bit pricey'n' I was right. 'E went ter the local one instead". We ordered steaks and more drinks. "Nice bein' away from the nitty-gritty at home" he said. Mrs Tel needed a new towel and a new hand luggage bag, so he was having to go to Colchester on Friday. "Good chance fer the terrible twosome to learn the job agin" he smiled.
I had a walk on Saturday, not far, but enough to leave me feeling like I'd had a bit of exercise. I went round the back waters at Walton, admired the views, thought about the evening before and how pleasant it'd been. I've missed the company. I was always cynical when people I knew suddenly found love again after a period of being alone. I'm not sure it's love yet, but it feels nice nonetheless. The Walton backwaters are the place I return to when I feel like this (I proposed to my ex-wife here and we used to love sitting on the beach with a bottle of wine, just talking and laughing). I still haven't told Tel. There never seems to be the right moment.
I heard the last fifteen minutes on BBC Suffolk as I drove home. 1-0 to the Town said Brenner. We sounded comfortable. I smiled and switched off, hoping we'd do Reading as well next week and only be four points off safety. I called in at Morrisons for more wine and a few beers, the shadows starting to lengthen as the beautiful day gave way to night. I'm lucky, I thought. Things seem to be alright for once. No killing meself on daily grinds to Birmingham, everyone around me happy and contented, us winning at Wigan.....Well, OK, I'm fairly lucky in love. But in football, well, it just isn't my year....
See you next Saturday. |  |
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