| The Warky Summer Report: I play out my role. Why, I've even been out walking (H) 14:09 - Jul 3 with 1082 views | Warkystache |
It's been a while. I thought I'd better add another chapter before we're back into the new season in four weeks and we resume the usual weekly tales of drunkenness and dissatisfaction.
Mrs Tel is out of hospital. June was a funny month. Tel went from proselytising pub critic to a carer overnight. No more coveted drinking afternoons on a Saturday, or meals in local Indian restaurants on the preceding Friday. Just a series of mis-spelt texts, a few phone calls where he pretended indifference and stoicism and the longing in his voice became as painful as it was amusing. This levee broke on Friday gone when he relented and joined me for "a few beers, like, jus' a quick few, she wants me ter take 'er swimmin' termorra" and we met at six and stayed til 1am.
So she's on the mend. Good news. Her consultant, whom Tel described as "Lookin' a bit nutty, if yer get me meanin', sorter cross between 'im off Eastenders an' that bloke 'oo used ter present gardenin'" (the mind still boggles - he doesn't know names) had breezily prescribed swimming as a good form of pelvic strengthener and (possibly said with a vainglorious little smirk) mentioned the fact that they had one of the biggest swimming pools in the world right on their doorstep, and it had the additional benefits of being salt-water, to help with the healing processes.
Tel was still staggered when we met. "Ah mean, geddin' 'er ter swim off bleeding Dovercourt? Wot, an' avoidin' the tommy loggers an' used french letters an' that?". He became more sarcastic as he drank. "S'pose she's meant ter keep out the bleedin' shippin' lanes inter Felixstowe'n'all? P'raps that brarn seaweed's got 'eeling qualities? An' get this" here he nudged me with a sideswipe of his elbow which caught me neatly in the upper rib just as I was raising glass to lips, "'E only sed I could bleedin' join 'er! Me, dressed in me speedos wiv one b*llock 'anging out the leg and a wedgie up me arse. I aint swum since I was ten. I've certainly never swum in that cesspit off 'Arwich. One mouthful o'that and I'd be in the nex' bed to 'er on bleedin' life s'port".
So he's taking her to the local pool, and sits in the public gallery amongst the local pervs and the competitive parents watching small kids and dreaming their selfish dreams of having sired a new Adam Peaty. Or that's what he tells her he does. In reality, he's drinking coffee from the little cafeteria and idly watching his phone.
I hadn't seen Mrs Tel in hospital, so our first joint visit to her home, bearing flowers and boxes of Thorntons and cloyingly crap 'Get Well Soon' cards beloved by the sort of people who still like Pam Ayres and wear matching cardigans, was welcomed. Tel let us in, a sort of cockney Carson in Downton Abbey, directing us into their front room past the endless bottles of Lucozade and half-eaten lunches on wheeled trays. She lay on their sofa bed, her head at the same height as my genitals, propped up on pillows and dressed in a smart black and grey bed coat and plum-coloured moccasins. "She can't wear jeans or nuffink" Tel had warned me before we arrived. It was said in the same manner as a young man proudly describing the aftermath of his first proper sexual activity. It seemed an odd adjoiner.
We didn't stay long but the reasons we gave (don't want to tire her out) were redundant when she got up and walked out to the garden perfectly normally to have one of my fags. It was a bit embarrassing given Tel had led me to believe she was "up on bricks' for a while following the unknown surgical procedure. Tel led me to their kitchen for a beer while Paula did the women's thing of asking her how everything was. Women are better with things like that. I merely smiled a lot and said the obvious. Still, she was looking better, to be fair.
Aside from that little drama, we've carried on much the same as before. Paula, unsettled by her mum telling her that her arse was getting a bit bigger, has started joining me on the early morning walks. Except she takes it more seriously and does it almost in a sort of jog, head down, ignoring the straggling dog-walkers that I usually greet. We did a circuitous route and then returned, sweat prickling the back of my neck. It's not a pleasure stroll any more. I might have to get up even earlier to do that.
I had a few days off last week when she was working, so I went off in the warm summery mornings for a walk on my own, idly kicking up the dust on the paths and watching the local birds skitter at my approach. No sweat, no aching shins, just me, my knapsack filled with a thermos of coffee and a bar of something in case I fall in a ditch and need sustenance while the dog-walkers ignore my throaty cries. It's not happening, but it's nice to have a walk and then a breather in a dappled glade munching on a fruit'n'nut with your coffee.
We're in the midst of saving for San Francisco in September. So the end of the Friday night meals is something of a relief to my bank balance. Tel is paying out our joint winnings earlier this year, so we've both got funds for our respective holidays rather than the usual Christmas splurge and new year parties. We've had a bit of a blank just lately. Royal Ascot was a disaster. We're down to just over £12K having been up to £14,000 in May. Tel blamed his tipsters for their folly. I just smiled and said "Never mind". He still has little rumbles on unknown races. It's his escape from the 'carin' stuff I 'ave ter do'. In reality, this looks minimal, seeing as she can walk and get around pretty much as she likes.
He's coming to the Bolton opener on the 30th. We've planned pubs, meeting times, after-match pubs and Trongs for a chinese. He even planned the train times and ordered the cab back. If that's not a sign of his boredom, I don't know what is. Still, be nice to see him at a game again. He's certainly mellowed in his assertions about the club and its chances of promotion. He is convinced it'll be this season. I've allowed myself to be swept up by it as well. Just as the Scum hit their 'blue' period, we come growling over the hill. It's a nice dream. The actual football season of course rarely works like that, but who knows?
As for P and I, well. Things are gently running as they should. We're now seriously discussing children again. It's like two adults having a relationship, instead of one adult and one seriously perturbed old man, worrying and over-thinking and finding trouble committing. My ex-wife even contacted me on Facebook recently, asking if I could lend her money for her jaunt to Thailand and I smiled and deleted my account. Some things never change, eh? Still, there's always the 'off' switch.
See some of you on the 30th. You know who you are. I know who you are too. There's no escape. We're in this together.... |  |
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| The Warky Summer Report: I play out my role. Why, I've even been out walking (H) on 17:58 - Jul 3 with 836 views | BanksterDebtSlave |
Miss Slave says "Is that it.....booooo.....we want more!" She also let out a very loud "Good!" about your ex not getting the lolly.
What's the best pub near Flatford Mill for an after walk drink btw? |  |
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| The Warky Summer Report: I play out my role. Why, I've even been out walking (H) on 21:05 - Jul 3 with 724 views | Warkystache |
| The Warky Summer Report: I play out my role. Why, I've even been out walking (H) on 17:58 - Jul 3 by BanksterDebtSlave |
Miss Slave says "Is that it.....booooo.....we want more!" She also let out a very loud "Good!" about your ex not getting the lolly.
What's the best pub near Flatford Mill for an after walk drink btw? |
Blimey! Don't say I've got to do another one before Bolton?
Best pub is in Dedham by the way - The Sun Inn. Otherwise, it's a long, stiff walk up to East Bergholt to the Red Lion (newly refurbished) or an even longer one to The Hare and Hounds. Personally, if you're going through Dedham anyway onto Flatford, I'd stop in Dedham. The Sun Inn. Nice 18th century former coach-house. Might see Alan Lee or Paul Goddard, although Alan's been conspicuous by his absence in the last few months. | |
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| The Warky Summer Report: I play out my role. Why, I've even been out walking (H) on 21:08 - Jul 3 with 717 views | Warkystache |
| The Warky Summer Report: I play out my role. Why, I've even been out walking (H) on 21:05 - Jul 3 by Warkystache |
Blimey! Don't say I've got to do another one before Bolton?
Best pub is in Dedham by the way - The Sun Inn. Otherwise, it's a long, stiff walk up to East Bergholt to the Red Lion (newly refurbished) or an even longer one to The Hare and Hounds. Personally, if you're going through Dedham anyway onto Flatford, I'd stop in Dedham. The Sun Inn. Nice 18th century former coach-house. Might see Alan Lee or Paul Goddard, although Alan's been conspicuous by his absence in the last few months. |
PPS. Alan Brazil can't now watch the walk after all. I still need to donate his tenner so I might come with P and watch you instead. Wear a carnation or a comedy ostrich or something, eh? | |
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| The Warky Summer Report: I play out my role. Why, I've even been out walking (H) on 21:22 - Jul 3 with 699 views | BanksterDebtSlave |
| The Warky Summer Report: I play out my role. Why, I've even been out walking (H) on 21:08 - Jul 3 by Warkystache |
PPS. Alan Brazil can't now watch the walk after all. I still need to donate his tenner so I might come with P and watch you instead. Wear a carnation or a comedy ostrich or something, eh? |
I'll be the one trudging along 10 paces behind 2 teenage girls. Junior can't wait to meet you although I have reinforced the need for absolute discretion! Lagos may turn up though and he might be less discreet. | |
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