Ironically, since I've been on holiday, I've woken and got up at 7am. Those glorious, leisurely lay-in's you picture when you're yawning in heavy traffic on the A14 on a work morning are but a cruel illusion. I could no more sleep later than 6.45am than I could spontaneously levitate. Yet, perversely, when I was younger and (one would think) didn't need all that sleep, I could lie in 'til 2pm. Bastards.
Take yesterday. I knew I had to do cleaning. I knew I needed some shopping. So I was wide awake at 6.30am, woken by the grey dawn, BBC Radio Suffolk mumbling on low. Once I'm up, I'm showered and dressed. No hanging round the garden slurping coffee in me dressing gown. It was too wet anyway. The birds have finally taken the hint to get their own grub and I'm reduced to the dregs; two Dunnocks, a rogue and hopeful Chaffinch.
Terry is in a dudgeon. Mrs Tel sees her consultant on Wednesday; an emergency appointment she was sent via Colchester and Ipswich Hospitals in a plain brown envelope, which, to Tel, spoke volumes about how highly they rate her chances of avoiding surgery. I still don't know the cause of her condition by the way. I haven't asked. Tel doesn't mention it; seems to assume he's told me, so talks 'technicalities' that both confuse and derail me in their detail. His accent and way with words means I'm often unsure if he's actually got it right himself. Yesterday, for example, he said "She's 'avin' that endscope fing to check; i'ss like a camra fer internal foters". "Oh" I said, feigning understanding. I've had endoscopy before for my Crohn's, but don't recall my consultants gathering around the screen to watch, like he reckons they do with Mrs T. Sounds like when my grandparents used to get the projector and cinefilm out to watch '70's weddings.
I mentioned having had endoscopy myself to him and wondered if Mrs Tel had bowel issues. 'Nah' he said, looking puzzled that I should ask. 'Course she aint'. Then a look which said 'are you being deliberately stupid or what?'. So the misunderstanding continues.
The shop needs a good clean, something Tel was hoping to address yesterday afternoon. I've not been down yet today to confirm. The Coke fridge, normally a source of dust and funny dark stains, looked like it was harbouring tropical diseases. "Aint 'ad the time" said Tel, brazenly but with a hint of apology. He also needs to change round his magazines and periodicals. At least two of the 'homes and handjobs' types (his words) mention Easter on their covers.
He saw Paula on Friday, outside Morrisons having a cigarette in her uniform. "Jumped a mile when I sneaked up be'ind 'er an' said 'Wotchoo doin'?'. Should'a seen 'er face". Then he clammed up. I prompted him with questions about how she was getting on ("Fine") and what she was up to ("Dunno, she din't say") leaving the impression that they'd not had much to talk about after his 'sneakn' up'. He's done this before. It's very odd. Why mention seeing her at all if you don't then want to relate how she is?
So I left him to it, our weekend football bet safely placed on Thursday (he clearly didn't expect us to do much at Reading, or for West Brom to suddenly start winning). He was out the back of the shop, hunting J cloths as I left.
The house was cleaned and hoovered, my bedclothes aired in the tumble drier, the kitchen implements pulled out and cleaned behind. Shopped at Waitrose in Nacton and wandered the aisles in search of Za'atar for today's lamb tagine. Strange to think how shopping has evolved since the days in the 80's when me and my dad did the butcher and baker and grocer for our bits, all locally. Stopped for a pint in the local on the way home and watched the footy results in amazement as we won 4-0. Blimey. When they said Freddie had scored as well, I looked for the white rabbit disappearing down the cellar doors. But t was just Jamie the landlord, back from changing the Carling.
Ah well. Soon be back at work. Tuesday is in the post already, as my Grandad used to say. Back to normal, soon enough. I've started a Panini Russia 18 sticker book with Tel at the shop, after the Sun gave them away free last week. He kept all the 'free' stickers that came with the books, so we've managed to complete half of one already. He thinks it a childish past-time, but is becoming competitive about completing it nonetheless. I've invited him to the Boro game next Sunday, and he's thinking about it. I'll keep you updated, but, if he comes, we might nip in the Fanzone before the game for a pint. He seems interested. You can never tell with him, though.
He thinks the new manager will be Warnock. 'Saw an intervoo wiv 'im last week 'n' e reckoned 'e wunt stay if Cardiff go up. 'Inn'ee a mate of Evans?'. He wasn't impressed with the Evans interview, but then he admitted he'd only read about it in the EADT. 'E's a toff wiv a toff's love o' footy" was his reaction. I've given up debating with him on it.
See you Sunday! Last game of a turbulent season. Let's keep the togetherness going!!! |  |
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