| The Warky League One Report: Panic on the streets of Lawford (h) 10:16 - Mar 15 with 1025 views | Warkystache |
The skies weren't virulent red and the only sound of coughing came from the old boy at the bar. This wasn't anything new given that he's smoked for the majority of his eighty-odd years on this earth and no-one tends to go within a metre of him anyway, lest they be bored to death by his inconsequentials. Hardly a 'Brave New World'.
There's no pandemic down our neck of the woods. As usual, folk watched the telly and read the Daily Express and drank pints out of scratched, fugged glasses and wondered, as ever, why Londoners have a tendency to panic. "Nevver 'ad this in the war" said the old boy at the bar, aloud, mainly to himself. "Mind'yoo I was only a nipper back then an' the ole mem'ry aint what it woz". A couple of heads nodded sagely. The rest of us wondered if we'd staggered into some sort of Am Dram production rehearsal and he'd suddenly burst into a few verses of "Fings aint wot they used ter be". Once our beer was frothy. Now it's our heads.
Tel arrived, match-ready for a Lamb Tandoori chop and a Chicken Balti, no surgeon's mask sporting his visage, his five 'o'clock shadow creeping into greyish stubble at the neck. He exchanged polite hello's with the barmaids and ordered a pint. He spoke briefly with the old boy at the bar, something that sounded like conciliation but was probably a half-hearted agreement so he could get away quick before the old boy press-ganged him into conversation.
"'Ow's fings wiv yoo den?" he asked me as he sat, carefully mounting his sipped pint on a beer mat. We'd had a collectively indifferent week at work. "Orders aint cummin' froo lark they were" said Tel. "Five jobs larse week, free of 'em in Norfuk, weren't 'ardly werf the 'assle. Bits'o' fence panel an' sheds an' that ter people 'oo 'ave as many toes as I've got lumps in me crotch". He took a long draught from his pint and eyed two women up at the bar with a standard appreciation.
We'd had the Cheltenham Festival, a feast of hard-to-pick winners and big fields. We won on two races from five. A horse called "Al bum pho'ter" had apparently won the Gold Cup that afternoon, and in doing so, we'd won £300. "Jus' fancid it ter be 'onest" said Tel when I asked how he'd picked it. He'd dropped £100 on Tiger Roll on Wednesday. "Bleedin' ran lark a tank" he said dismissively when I asked what happened. We'd also lost on Tuesday, but won again on Wednesday when a horse called Champ won. So, I concluded, how much did we win in the week? Tel looked at me as though I were a small fly landing on the rim of his pint glass. "Dunno" he said. "But we 'ad over a grand in the accarnt an' we still got over a grand in there, so....." Job done, his face said.
The lack of football for a few weeks disgruntled him more. "Bleedin' soft they are terday. Blokes like that kraut 'oo played fer Man City in the cup final wiv a broken neck, thass yer olden days player. They was 'ard, them blokes. None of yer namby-pambyin' rollin' round when yer fouled, nar, them boys would 'ave 'ad ter 'ave broken their bleedin' legs ter do that". It was a favourite hobby-horse. I could imagine him joining in the chorus with the old boy at the bar, perhaps as a prelude to them both going on to sing 'Underneath the Arches', Tel in a fur coat and straw boater.
The curry house was empty at seven, save for a couple waiting for a takeaway and filling the time by perusing the menu and having a half each. To be fair, the menu would have been preferable to reading the two-day old copy of The Sun that was the alternative. We were seated at our favourite table, the one with the cushioned church pew on the wall which faces out into the restaurant and is far enough away from the toilets to make even an urgent visit an inward reflection about whether you can hold it for a bit longer, just in case your food arrives as you set out and you return to find it congealed.
Tel was dismissive about COVID-19. "F'ya gonna ketch it, geddit over wiv. It's only a bleedin' cold annyway. I sed ter the wife...(here he bent in close so I could smell the lager on his breath)..yew waint gunner catch tha'. If anyfin', it'll be muggins 'ere 'oo gets it, probly from one o' them yokels in Norfuk". He sat back, and winked at me. "Fink abart it. Where'd it start? China, one o'them markets they 'ave where they eat annyfin' that moves. An' 'oo else is dirty lark that? Yer Norfuks. All farms an' interbreedin' an' cat-eatin' an' that. It'll be spreadin' lark the plague up there in a few weeks, you watch".
Our starters arrived, the waiter rolling the trolly topped with sizzling and steaming metal skillets. He placed the plate heaters on our table and then unloaded the pans, warning us 'dorn touch der deeshes sir' as Tel inadvisedly went to pull one nearer to him. His job done, he coughed as he walked away. Tel watched his back with an expression of outrage. "Thass 'ow yer geddit, that, cummin' out fer a bit of a feed an' catching' it off the waita. Better get ourselves inter quarantine later".
We were happily munching the Keema Naan and our curries when another Corona-thought struck Tel. "Why are people panic-buying' bog rolls? Does it give yer the squits?". No I said. But I wasn't convincing. "S'pose if yer gonna dump yourself ter deaf, yer might as well go out all guns blazin'" and he ordered two more keema naans and a Lamb Vindaloo.
We finished, belching lightly and ordering the bill, the table cloth liberally spattered with cloying lumps of brown which were busy building small moats of lighter brown around them, like miniature medieval castles. Tel wanted a coffee and a "few brandies, jus' a few, aint workin' termorra so we'll be fine". We were going back down the pub for these; the coffee in the Indian was like dishwater and they knew how to charge for brandy. He paid the bill on his card, as is our custom. I pay the cab home.
We went back to the pub. The old boy at the bar was gone. No musical numbers. It was a bit of a shame. There were a dozen or so in, all enjoying a cosy drink and a game of pool, none less than a metre from the next. The coffees took a bit of time so we sipped the brandies at the bar, the ice tinkling in the glasses as we raised them to our lips. "S'pose yer gonna miss the old footy in the nex' few weeks?" said Tel. "Still, wiv the way the Town are goin', it won' be much of a miss. Ipswich should 'ave 'ad the Corona all season". He smiled at his own wit, and desisted long enough from openly eyeing the barmaid's bosom for me to guide him to a table in the corner.
The coffee's arrived, eventually. Jamie the landlord apologised for the delay ("ran out'o' filters so 'ad ter nip upstairs fer me own ones"). Tel made the facetious remark that he'd nipped to Colombia to get the beans as well. Jamie smiled tightly, as was his cue. He's worried by the lack of Premiership games on the telly; he told us most of his trade during the week came from watching the football. "So ah'm finkin' of doin' anuvver quiz night next Wen'sdy. Fiver a head and the winner gets a ton an' a nice bottle 'o'wine". We checked our diaries. Tel was off on Thursday. We said yes and paid our tenner. "Might bring the wife" said Tel. "Tho' gawd knars what use she'd be. Yer'd be better off wiv tha' beer mat".
The cab arrived at twelve, just as we were draining our fifth brandy of the evening. I asked him about Paula earlier, and he creased his face in a grimace. "She couldn't make it the ovver week, said she 'ad ter work a late shift or summink. Still, ah'm seen' her nex' Saturdy so if yer want me to pass on yer regards, ah'll 'appily do that". She's coming back for Mothering Sunday next week so Tel took the opportunity to take her and Blake for a meal on the Saturday night. I'll keep you informed when he tells me about developments. We're not due to meet next week. He's working Friday so we agreed not to bother. Our next meeting will be on the 28th.
The cab dropped him at home. I nervously awaited the 'quick slash in me 'edge' but it never came. He wished me all the best for the week ahead and swayed up his drive. He was having a quiet night in last night. I doubt he knows the meaning.
Yesterday, well, if I hadn't been self-isolating, I may as well have done. I was due to meet friends but they cancelled due to illness. I went for a walk on Shotley, breathing in the glorious ozone and watching the sea roll ceaselessly against the small boats. I came home and had a nice piece of Sirloin from my local butcher, with my own béarnaise sauce and some chips and roasted veg. I missed the footy results, naturally, but I was surprised by how little I missed them. I've not been reduced to watching kids in the park, like some paedo, but all the local non-league games were postponed as well, so it's really a matter of which virus I succumb to first, the Corona or the footy one. I suspect it'll be the footy that ultimately gets me.
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| The Warky League One Report: Panic on the streets of Lawford (h) on 11:05 - Mar 15 with 952 views | BanksterDebtSlave |
Back up the page with you. |  |
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| The Warky League One Report: Panic on the streets of Lawford (h) on 12:12 - Mar 15 with 910 views | Ace_High1 |
Stay safe Warkers and Tel x |  | | |
| The Warky League One Report: Panic on the streets of Lawford (h) on 14:02 - Mar 15 with 832 views | Westover |
Great read as always stay safe😷😎 |  | | |
| The Warky League One Report: Panic on the streets of Lawford (h) on 14:08 - Mar 15 with 819 views | ericclacton |
Wonderful stuff, but that will not fix my tumble fryer i mean dryer.  |  | | |
| The Warky League One Report: Panic on the streets of Lawford (h) on 16:08 - Mar 15 with 736 views | strikalite |
Superb as usual, it's a tad wasted on us lot on here...
What age is Tel Warky? I'm thinking a few years under 70? |  | | |
| The Warky League One Report: Panic on the streets of Lawford (h) on 17:49 - Mar 15 with 681 views | Warkystache |
| The Warky League One Report: Panic on the streets of Lawford (h) on 16:08 - Mar 15 by strikalite |
Superb as usual, it's a tad wasted on us lot on here...
What age is Tel Warky? I'm thinking a few years under 70? |
He's 57 Strikes. He'll be 58 in May. | |
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