by D. E. Harker
We explained the rules to Trevor and assembled bits of paper and pencils and all went well until it came to the reading out.
Trevor triumphantly announced, ‘Gran met a rat exterminator in a dust bin. She said to him, “Where do you live?” He said to her, “Bottoms Up” and the result was they went away together for a naughty weekend.
I laughed heartily. Gran took it personally and maintained a frozen silence and a hurt look. I could see that Julie wanted to laugh but tried to disguise the fact. The more Trevor and I tried to suppress our mirth, the worse it was. Our eyes watered. With great presence of mind, Julie switched on the television and we watched the play (to the accompaniment of the odd snort of nervous laughter from Trevor), probably to the great relief of everyone.
Cocoa and bed.
March 20th – Friday
Do not know if it was the after effect of our ‘games night’ but when I came to write up this diary on Monday evening, two pages were missing and it transpires that Trev had been searching for paper to make paper darts with his friend Craig and had ransacked the house, seizing my diary and vandalising it. I gave him a piece of my mind in no uncertain manner, with reference to personal possessions, matters of principle etc., and Julie fully supported me in this.
He said, ‘I’ll replace the paper with two sheets from my French exercise book’ but I replied, ‘It’s not the same.’
Will have to try and condense the past four days’ activities very briefly. Julie’s mother is still here.
Infestation of beetles discovered in larder.
Showed tiresome Asian salesman, from Expresso Laxatives, the door (last thing we needed after our experience of the other evening, anyway).
Avery still behaving in stupid and secretive manner. Does it mean anything, or doesn’t it?
Very cold weather.
March 21st – Saturday
While I was gardening this morning, caught sight of Steve hovering at the side of the road with wheelbarrow. The next moment, a truck drew up laden with stone paving slabs. Two chaps alighted and started manipulating the load into the barrow.
‘Morning, Your Grace,’ hailed Steve with a mock bow. ‘Meet two fellow wheelers – Ken Dugeon, Keith Goodchap. Marvellous opportunity for getting cheap slabs for patio – Ken heard of them going cheap on a demolition site. Coming to give a hand?’
Assisted for about half an hour. Feel sore – I have twisted something in my back, as they were extremely heavy stones. Thankful when Julie called out of the window that lunch was ready. Reflected again on the obvious advantages one reaps from belonging to the Round Wheel. Ken Dugeon is president of the local branch. He’s in pharmaceuticals, if that’s how you spell it.
March 22nd – Sunday
My back definitely stiff this morning.
This evening the phone rang – just at the crucial moment in Play of the Month.
‘It’s for you, Mum’ Julie said. ‘It’s Bri.’ We exchanged a glance. I hoped that he was not going to suggest coming here but all was well.
‘Bri didn’t get the job at Butlin’s after all,’ she told us (was not surprised at this). ‘He’s been asked to join a pop group in Leeds calling themselves The Dregs and he’s changing his name to Bryllan. He’s arriving home tomorrow so I’ll have to get to the station in good time.’ And addressing me, ‘You’ll give me a lift in the morning, won’t you?’
‘My pleasure,’ I said and hoped I didn’t sound too relieved.
Bryllan!! (pah – ugh) words fail me…
March 23rd – Monday
Took “Mother” to the station for the 7.55 train and heard again the tale of how she won twenty clothing coupons in a raffle in the war and was the belle of the mess ball, getting a kiss under the mistletoe from the C.O.
‘You ought to write a book about your war memoirs,’ I said jocularly. ‘That’s a very good idea,’ she replied and, thus encouraged, resumed the thrilling exploits of Hut 21, until we said our goodbyes.
I don’t know what dubious venture her son is about to embark on – just another one of a long series, it seems to me. However, she does not seem worried by the prospect so why should I waste my valuable time even thinking about it?
March 24th – Tuesday
It is nice to have the house to ourselves again although I must say the visit from Julie’s mother went off very well.
My car brakes have developed an annoying squeak. When I put my foot down on the foot brake for cornering, slowing down or stopping, it emits a loud screech, which can be very embarrassing, causing people to turn round suddenly and stare. Must get it seen to. In my job it is essential to have a smart and efficient car to promote confidence in people.
That stupid new typist had the nerve to refer to me today as Al Capone, when she thought I wasn’t listening. Am surprised that she even knows who Al Capone was.
March 25th – Wednesday
Bombshell at the office today. Avery has handed in his notice. Must say, I have suspected something of the sort for some time now. This explains his sly and secretive manner of late.
The fact of his leaving was staggering enough but when I asked, ‘To what higher plain are you elevating yourself?’ he replied simply, ‘To Lumberjobs.’ Frankly, I was amazed.
‘Yes,’ Avery continued, ‘Stan Swindlehurst has offered me a fantastic job – very good money, foreign travel, wonderful perks and a dolly bird secretary,’ and he clicked his tongue in an annoying way.
Well, good luck to him. I forbore to mention that I myself had been offered the self-same job, only last month.
March 26th – Thursday
Am more or less used to the idea of Avery leaving now but I must say I didn’t sleep very well last night. My head was in a whirl and when Julie asked, ‘You haven’t any regrets, have you?’ in the early hours, I knew that she had been turning it all over in her mind too. I think I can honestly say that I have no regrets and when Gordon Brimcup bumped into me this morning and said, ‘Well, it’s just us two chaps on the road now’ and slapped me on the shoulder, I felt unaccountably light-hearted.
The burning question now is – will Prescot-Henderson advertise for another salesman or will Brimcup and myself take on the work of three men with a possible rise in salary? It remains to be seen.
March 27th – Friday
Hooray. Our holiday arrangements confirmed by post today. Two weeks in a caravan near Tenby – that really is something to look forward to. Julie’s badminton season finished this evening. Can’t say that I’m sorry.
March 28th – Saturday
Very sharp wind today and unpleasant smell blowing over from the steelworks. However, not to worry, as they say. I expect there are worse polluted places.
The patio and barbecue “gang” were back in action this morning but was unable to help personally as decided to clean the car and see if I could discover the cause of the screeching brakes. Thought I had located the trouble, but when I took it for a trial run down the road, they seemed to be noisier than ever.
Very irritating especially as “the three” stopped loading paving stones, pretended to leap back in fright and Steve shouted, ‘Who’s after you?’ to the amusement of the others.
March 29th – Sunday
Julie made delicious beef goulash for dinner today.
‘One of Una’s recipes,’ she said. ‘You’ll have to let Una have your special Christmas trifle recipe,’ I replied. Am sure that Julie is as good a cook in her own way as Una.
Decided to go for walk in the afternoon as we were all feeling rather full and had a pleasant stroll round the estate remarking on all the gardens in various stages of development and the cars, caravans and boats. Saw one or two familiar faces which made us feel as if we really belong in Weston now.
March 30th – Monday
Have put my name down for a course in “New Selling Methods” to take place in September in Manchester, and hope this will not go unnoticed by the “powers that be”.
March 31st – Tuesday
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Totally unexpected surprise in the post today, note from Derek Wineglass inviting us over to visit him and his wife, Marlene, at their new bungalow at Heaton Moor. Felt very flattered as only met him for the first time last month at the building exhibition in Liverpool.
As his telephone number was written at the top of the letter, I was eager to ring him at the first opportunity this evening and accept, but was thwarted every time I tried. That wretched man Butt apparently speaking to his bookmaker.
April 1st – Wednesday
Whoever slipped that pair of lady’s frilly briefs (or whatever one calls them) in amongst my samples had better look out! It was not funny. I can take a joke as well as the next man but this was over-stepping the bounds of decency and I was highly embarrassed as they fell out of my case on the aforementioned neo-Georgian housing estate, where I was trying yet again to impress O’Hooligan with my wares.
I tried to roll the panties up and lose them in my sleeve and was almost successful but unfortunately they fell out when I was waving my arm at a door case.
Quick as a flash, O’Hooligan’s old Alsatian appeared from nowhere and ran off with them – thinking no doubt that it was all part of some game.
‘What’s that dog got now,’ O’H shouted. ‘Don’t worry, it’s only an old handkerchief,’ I said. ‘Don’t bother – really.’
‘Drop, Slasher, drop,’ he persisted. ‘There’s a good boy.’ Slasher obliged, rolled over on to his back and waved his legs in the air.
A few bricklayers, working nearby, happened to glance up as O’H seized the by now tattered pink garment from Slasher’s mouth and held it up for all to see.
‘Yours, I believe,’ he said and there were laughs all round at my expense. It quite put me off my stride and I couldn’t concentrate on the business in hand after that. Although I explained, at some length, about it being April Fool’s Day, I don’t believe O’Hooligan was convinced and he said, ‘I understand’ in a way which I can only describe as meaningful.
Will be heartily glad when Avery leaves on the 24th as I am sure this was his idea of a joke and typically childish.
April 2nd – Thursday
Spent a tiring morning at large packing-case factory and tried to engage the interest of a Mr Cadwallader with specific reference to our new line in soft woods for their pallet making. Nearly talked myself hoarse extolling the virtues of our deal but ‘I can’t make any definite promises, I’ll let you know in due course’ was all the response I received. I wouldn’t call myself an ill-tempered chap, in fact I’ve always been renowned for my pleasant and easy-going disposition, but when I arrived home this evening feeling justifiably weary and Trev immediately launched into yet another thousand and one reasons why we should have a dog, I really saw red.
Julie did not help matters by taking his side. She kept saying, ‘A boy really needs a pet’ or some such foolish words.
‘Why not a hamster then or a goldfish?’ I replied. ‘You can’t take a hamster or a goldfish for walks,’ Trev said in a sneering manner.
‘And have you thought about when we go on holiday? Have you thought of that, eh? Oh no, nor the cost.’
There were raised voices, I’m afraid, and, to crown it all, in the midst of all this, who should knock on the door but Steve.
‘Hope I’m not interrupting anything.’ It was perfectly obvious to everyone that he was but I put a good face on it, I hope, and replied as cheerfully as I could, ‘No, nothing at all.’
It turned out that he wished to buy some wood for an outdoor barbecue eating bench and wanted some advice. I must say it was the last thing I felt like discussing but I gave the matter some attention, for which I think he was grateful, and I also promised to see if I could get some hard wood off-cuts from the mill for him.
Our tempers were cooled somewhat after this diversion but I stuck to my guns. We are not having a dog and that is final.
April 3rd – Friday
I find it hard to understand that after all I said yesterday, Trevor is still persisting with this wild notion of having a dog. I would never have dared to go against my father in this way. I am no dog lover – possibly due to the fact that I was bitten on the ankle by one when I was a small boy.
April 4th – Saturday
Called round at the Downes’ this morning to see how the patio is coming along. Ken Dugeon turned up and there was the usual jocular banter between us as we had a beer in the kitchen.
‘Yes, I think we should have many a convivial summer evening out here. A few bottles of plonk – the old sausages and kebabs sizzling away, the soft sound of music and the girls wearing their Laura Ashleys. I can see it now.’ We stared at the pile of paving slabs as it rained steadily.
Watched the Grand National in the afternoon on the television. We were pleased to be sitting by a warm fire as the race course looked wet, windy and cold. Had a flutter on the horses amongst ourselves. I never bet more than twenty-five pence myself as the story of Great Uncle Bill and how he lost the family fortune, such as it was, on the horses has become a family legend.
Recalled the name of a horse I had heard by accident the other evening when attempting to phone Derek Wineglass. Butt had repeated the name Spunky Lad frequently so decided to put my money on this one. None of us won – Spunky Lad fell at the first fence.
April 5th – Sunday
Feel so angry after what happened today that I can hardly bring myself to write about it.
I shall start at the beginning. I was just settling down for forty winks after dinner when there was a knock at the door. It was Trev’s friend Craig, who said, ‘I’ve come for Trev. We’re doing bob-a-Job week together.’ Trev dashed upstairs to put on his uniform and they banged out of the house.
They reappeared at supper time and I should have realised by Trev’s air of excitement and flushed face that something was up. As indeed it was. They nudged each other, winked and giggled over the meal until Julie said sharply, ‘Now, stop it, you two. If you’ve got a secret, why can’t you let us all share it?’ Trev, choking over a digestive biscuit, finally gasped out ‘I’ve got a dog!’
I remember shouting, ‘You’ve got what?’ twice I think.
‘A dog.’
‘Yes – he has really,’ Craig said. ‘We went to this house and asked this old woman there if we could do a bob-a-Job and she said, “Yes – I’ll give you fifty pence if you get rid of this dog for me.” So we did.’
Trying desperately to keep my temper, I asked as calmly as I could, ‘Where is the animal?’ And then came the coup de grâce.
‘In the garage – in your car.’
That did it. I swore, jumped up from the table, knocking over my chair, and rushed out to the garage, where I heard whimpering and scratching. Out of my car leapt a moth-eaten, mangy, smelly cur, then it vanished into the night. I think I have rarely been so angry.
My first concern, naturally, was for my car. The inside smelt terrible and the upholstery was covered in hairs. But the worst thing was the dashboard, which was badly scratched. How I will ever get it to look good again, I really do not know.
By this time, Julie had joined me and was saying, ‘Don’t be too hard on him.’
I replied ‘You should never have encouraged him in the first place.’
‘If you’d been more reasonable and had promised him a nice little dog, this never would have happened.’ I have never been unreasonable.
When Trevor appeared and yelled, ‘Where’s my dog?’ I felt I had had enough and retired quickly to the Cock and Bull for a quiet drink and a little reasonable company.
Returning home, I found Butt on our doorstep being most offensive to Julie. ‘What’s this all about?’ I demanded. ‘Your dog has wrecked my new rose bushes, dug up half my lawn, scratched the paintwork on my boat, bitten Lulu Belle’s leg so that my wife has had to take her to the vet and…’
‘Stop!’ I protested. ‘It is not my dog.’
‘Oh yes it is – I heard that boy of yours calling it
– so you needn’t try to get out of your responsibilities that way. I shall calculate the damage and you will get a bill in due course.’ And with that he stormed away.
It was useless to explain anything to the man in such a mood (his language was very strong and I have obviously censored this entry for my diary). I hope my slamming of the front door told him exactly how I felt about his outburst. What on earth will the neighbours think?
Julie was quite upset so I put the kettle on for a cup of tea. The saga, however, was not yet finished. The front doorbell rang and it was Trevor – breathless but triumphant, saying, ‘I caught it.’
My eyes travelled downwards and there was the offending creature being held by a piece of string. I was horror stricken, ‘It’s not coming in here.’ Another argument ensued. It was raining by now and quite late. A desperate compromise was reached whereby I moved my car from the garage, we tied the dog up in there so that he could do no more damage and I told Trev quite frankly that I would take the animal to the police station first thing tomorrow morning.
As I write, I can hear whining from the garage and am just waiting for one of the neighbours to ring up and complain. Julie said, ‘Do you think it’s given us fleas?’
April 6th – Monday
Was as good as my word and first thing this morning – despite Trev’s protestations – I took the dog to the police station in a cardboard box.
‘We found him wandering in Springcroft Meadow. He is obviously lost,’ I explained to the officer as he took my name and address.