I took Lady J a coffee, and, expecting sparks to fly at being disturbed, was surprised when she said, "Good oh, it'll be fun and I'll be able to talk to my sister again".
That was tantamount to hearing a delegate from the PLO saying how nice it was to have an Israeli over for lunch. So, in utter shock I went to get ready and by half past seven we were getting in the car.
We travelled by back roads where there was little traffic, not that the rest of the sensible world was awake anyway. By 8.00 am I was getting my pound out to pay for the car park (another source of profit for the field owner).
Lady J saw that her sister's car was already there which was quite good considering they had an hour’s journey to get there. The car was empty though and so we hurried along the first row to see if we could catch them up. Trouble was, we were also trying to see what was coming out of the cars for sale. I caught a glimpse of Baron John half way along the next aisle, and was preparing to slip between the rows of stalls to catch them up when a stentorian voice stopped me.
"Ha, I've just seen a horse bit", it said, "STOP!"
Stop I did, and there indeed was a bit, with a young lady already exclaiming how Pilgrim's life would not be complete without it. Brand new, never been used and a snip at four pounds only.
Knowing they can cost up to twenty times that amount, I was happy to suggest Julia took some money from my wallet. I was using my crutches this morning and so I couldn't carry much, and therefore could by extension not buy much, and I needed the help on the uneven ground.
Buying the bit had meant that John and Mumu had moved on a fair way so catching them wasn't as simple. I turned to ask Julia to hurry and she was laden with bags. HOW? And a stall holder was just slipping a horsebook inside a carrier bag. I suggested we take the bags back to the car and catch John and Mumu up on the next row. This we did and managed to catch them up.
"Good morning both", they said in unison." Good suggestion of yours, David", added Caslav with a wink and a pleading look.
We drifted into separate parties for a few minutes, the warring sisters declaring a temporary truce in one, and the peacemakers John and I the other. He took this opportunity to explain that he was desperate to find a nice desk set and didn't want to pay a dealer’s price. He seemed as economical with his money as he was with the truth about whose idea this was.
We wandered on together and at the end of the row I was surprised to find a carrier bag attached to each of my crutches. Ahead of me I noticed Lady J and Mumu empty handed and hastened to remedy that. Not by letting Julia buy something but by passing her my bags. Angel that she was she let me get away with it. We seemed at that point to meld together again as one group and pointed out things to each other we may have missed. Like misbehaving schoolchildren we made sure none of us missed the whoopee cushions or the realistic plastic dog poo that no home should be without.
We found a stall at the halfway point that had a perfect umbrella stand for the best of my walking stick collection. The seller wanted little for it and so it was added to our booty. At another stall Mumu found a delightful piece of crystal, Julia found two Japanese cups and saucers to stand on the chinoiserie cabinet we'd bought. (I knew we must have bought it for a purpose), and I found a nice pre-decimal coin in a silver mount for my watch chain.
Then came an Eureka moment as I spotted not one but two gurgle jugs and my legs speeded up to a blur as they and my crutches raced to make sure no one reached them before me. The two cost me less than one would have at an antique fair. I paid the asking price without haggling, and was turning to go when I spotted a silver-plated art nouveau desk set. I studied it and found no chips in the glass inkwells, and the design was beautiful and undamaged. I already have a small brass one that cost me more than this specimen. I had an internal fight, to buy it for myself or to call John over. Unfortunately my conscience won, and holding it in my hands to prevent another buyer seeing it, I called out to John. He had no hesitation and moments later it was his.
We were now quite close to a pitch selling food and hot drinks and I suggested sitting down for a break with a coffee. Everyone agreed and sat at a table leaving me on my crutches to go to the counter. I ordered and paid for the drinks and was presented with four polystyrene cups filled with red hot lava. I managed to get them on a tray and hobbled to the next counter to add the appropriate sugar and milk (five sugars for Mumu). Ignoring the delicious smell of fried onions, which shows how good I am with my diet, I carefully carried the tray to the table while my crutches dangled uselessly from my forearms. Gently I placed the tray down.
I sat. I couldn't understand why I seemed to be getting smaller until I looked down at the legs of the chair and saw them splaying bit by bit until they were at ground level and my nose was at table level. I knew I would not get up unaided.
A voice shouted, " Oi, wotcher doin ter me chair?", and a large grubby apron loomed over me.
In between bursts of laughter, Caslav, Mumu and Lady J tried to explain the chair had done it all on its ownsome. Caslav made a remark about 'The eagle has landed', and Julia made a remark about the 'landed gentry'. Meanwhile two chaps from a neighbouring table came to my rescue and lifted me upright. I thanked them and drank my coffee standing up.
We continued round the site until we reached the end, collecting more bags of unnecessary items on the way, and then we headed for the cars.
It was almost mid-day and we decided that lunch would be a good idea. Ten minutes of heated discussion later we ascertained that the best option would be an ancient hostelry called The Forum about half way between our respective homes. After lunch we could occupy ourselves for a while in a local antique centre. Decision made, we went. We arrived.
A young waitress greeted Caslav as we entered, "Good afternoon, sir, have you booked today?"
Admitting on this occasion that we hadn't we all expected to be turned away. But knowing the baron and ourselves from previous visits, the manager found us a table. It was fine except that I had to lean back so the man at the sink could wash up. (Sorry, I thought I'd try and inject a little humour). We ordered drinks and perused the menu. For me it was no contest, there was roast beef on the menu, also a little gravy and some sauce. (Sorry, it's that humour again).
First came the plates with meat and roast potatoes. Then came dishes of new potatoes and of vegetables. In the spirit of fairness, and as John and I are both on diets, we shared equally. John and I had the potatoes and we gave the girls the veg. The meal was delicious as was in my case the diet lemon meringue afterwards.
After the meal we headed for the cars to go to the antique centre. In the car park a man held two Welsh ponies. There was no way we could reach the cars without the girls stopping to pet them, so John and I stood close by chatting while they did so. As we talked, I noticed one foot becoming very warm. I looked down and one of the horses had relieved himself on me. I just hoped he wasn't expressing a personal opinion of me, and moved rapidly. To the amusement of the others I squelched my way to the car.
We spent an enjoyable couple of hours looking at antiques, though in my case some enjoyment was spent looking at me by people who heard me squelch up and down. My wallet breathed a sigh of relief as we finally left without spending. We all hugged and set off in our different directions home.
Our forty minute journey took about two hours, as we were held up by a herd of curious cattle in one lane, by two separate tractors that I swore were driven by the same man, especially as the second one smirked, and finally by a sheep lying in the road. We moved it by Julia rolling down her window and shouting, "Mint Sauce".
After unpacking the car I changed out of my sodden right shoe, my saturated right sock and liberally sprinkled jeans-right leg, took a shower and changed into a dressing gown.
I had just settled to a TV comedy when the phone rang. It was Mumu thanking us for a good day and hoping I was all right.
I heard Julia answer, " Oh yes, he's decided he's had enough HORSING around for today, he say
s NEIGH to any further car boot sales and he says he'll PEE much more careful from now on where he stands".
I heard Mumu snigger.
I decided to pretend to have nodded off.
Monday, August 2, 2010
The League of Fiends
The new week started with a bang. It woke me up at about 6.30 am. I opened my curtains to see the source, and there was a squirrel running along the back wall with a handful of nuts stolen from the bird table it had just knocked over. I had put a piece of pipe round the support column of the bird table to make it difficult for the squirrels to climb. This one decided to circumvent that and go for a direct assault, and tried paragliding from the wall to the table top. You have to admire their ingenuity, but not at 6.30 am.
Oscar was miaowing round my feet to remind me he hadn't been fed yet and my gentle words saying "soon Oscar" were not having the desired effect. I couldn't feed him as he was due at the vet’s this morning to have the tartar removed from his teeth. He had to be asleep for that to happen. In an attempt to bring my attention to his starving plight, he bit me, and ran. Fan'bloody'tastic, I thought as I limped to the medicine cabinet. I'm due for a blood test about ten o'clock and now I've probably got some kind of cat rabies and will need a tetanus injection where it hurts most. The doctors must be fed up of the sight of my posterior.
Turning round to head for the kitchen, I immediately fell over the cat who had returned to the scene of his crime, probably to gloat. I ended up on my knees as he ran off again mewling about the damage I had nearly inflicted when I fell.
"David”, I heard. "What on earth have you done to Oscar now?"
Oh Lord, she's awake and I've not done her coffee, I thought.
"Nothing dear", I replied.
I stood and went to put the kettle on (we'll have no jokes about it not fitting very well thank you), and Lady J came through.
"You seem to have upset him again”, she said as though I make it my life's mission. ” I hope you've not been feeding him".
"No, my dear", I replied. “I think he took fright when I opened my curtains sharply".
Kettle boiled and coffee made, we took our drinks through to the lounge.
“I’ll drop the cat at the vet's at 9.00”, said Julia. “Then I'll be back to take you for your blood tests."
“That’s fine", said I, “I’ll be ready to go when you get back".
“Remember to check your blue suit is all right for tonight as well. We have that invitation to the New Artists Exhibition in Barchester".
"Yes dear", I responded, wondering which blue suit she meant as I have two, one dark and one pale in linen.
She eventually left for the vet's having spent twenty minutes trying to get Oscar into his carrying bag. Once he sees the bag he knows it's time to play hide and seek and he's very good at it. This time we found him in the utility room hiding behind the Hoover.
Once inside the bag the crying started. It would not have surprised me if we had heard a screech of brakes as the RSPCA came to arrest us for pet cruelty, so plaintive was the cry. Anyway she left, and about 20 minutes later returned having deposited the grief stricken cat with the vet. We had time for a quick drink so I made Lady J her coffee before we set off.
We were just getting to the car when I heard Lady J say, “Dammit, my filling has come out," indicating I'd better remortgage the house to pay for a new filling or a crown.
We set off for town and the cottage hospital. The car park wasn't too crowded so we were able to park not too far from the main door.
We entered the hospital through the automatic doors that took near superhuman strength to push open as the automatic had decided not to work. The foyer was empty except for two members of the 'League of Fiends' who run the tea bar. (Most UK hospitals seem to have a group of volunteers called a League of Friends who run the tea bars, shops and the library trolley as though they are their own private property).
They both saw us appear and in a desperate quest for custom came racing towards us in their orange uniforms. The tall one looking like an iced lolly on a stick and the other smaller round one more like a satsuma (though with her build maybe it should have been satSUMO?).
"Tea, coffee, milk," they cried and seemed near to tears when we both replied in the negative. They showed signs of relief when Julia told them perhaps later.
We entered the waiting room for the blood tests, which of course was the only full room in the whole building. I took a numbered ticket and sat to await my turn. I think my number was in the low thousands, and I wondered if I should have brought a sleeping bag when I heard the nurse call for number six.
We saw a parade of people going in with a smile and coming out groaning holding the various body parts from where blood had been taken. Eventually, before nightfall, my turn came and gripping my ticket tightly in my hand I bravely entered the vampire's lair.
I sat in the appropriate chair and a pretty young nurse came over to apply the tourniquet.
“Right," she said, “this will just feel like a little scratch", as she showed me a foot long hypodermic needle. “Only joking", she added, as my heart rate slowed to a dull roar in my ears, and she picked up a normal needle and proceeded to place the tip in my vein. She filled a phial with blood and removed it leaving the needle in place. I expected her to remove it next. Instead she inserted another phial and proceeded to fill that too. And then came a third, and I wondered how long it would take to drain me and would she ever be caught. I saw her eyes glowing, then realised it was the reflection of the sun through the window. She carefully removed the needle and with a cotton wool ball pressed on the puncture in my arm. I thanked her and left the room holding my arm and groaning loudly for the benefit of the next victim.
On the way out we stopped for a cup of tea, but as the women now had customers at their tables, serving us seemed more like an intrusion than their great pleasure. Still, they did, and the tea was very welcome after the stresses of the morning.
From the hospital we went to Julia's dentist to make an appointment. He is so in demand we both knew she wouldn't get in today. He's a strange little man but a very good dentist. He appeared about five years ago and set up the practice. Britain's lack of dental surgeons has paved the way for many to come here from all over Europe and the world, but Mister Dacre was an almost pantomime image of a man. Sometimes French sounding and sometimes Italian, but always in an exaggerated manner. He entered the waiting room from his surgery while we were there.
"Oh, mya Laydee", he said, "You havva the probelemo?"
Lady J explained about her filling and he fussed over her until an appointment was made for Wednesday morning. As we left, I could see Lady J smiling and knew she had loved the attention.
By now it was after 2.00 pm and we called at a supermarket for readymade sandwiches to eat at home, and a very diet-conscious strawberry tart each. Well, fruit is supposed to be good for me.
On the way home, we called at the vet’s to collect Oscar and pay his bill. Now that we had seen to it that the vet's new house and this year’s holiday were assured for him, we put Oscar in his bag and left. He was unusually quiet and when we got home had to be coaxed out of his bag. I could see he was still woozy from the anaesthetic, so I left him on a couch and went to have my sandwich with Julia, who had made a drink. We were just about to eat the tart when Grizelda stuck her head round the door and beckoned to us. We followed her to the utility room where Oscar had gone for a drink and was now face down in his dish, fast asleep and merrily blowing bubbles.
The afternoon wore on and evening approached. I went up to get changed into my blue suit and Julia to change into her evening attire suitable for this event. I think sometimes that it's the title that gets the invitation and not the person. Whatever I were to wear would be OK as I could be described as either old fashioned or eccentric.
You could have gambled on the fact that the blue suit I wore would be the wrong one. When I offered to change I was told with a heavy sigh of exasperat
ion that it would do. I am quite sure that would have happened whichever one I'd worn. It was just a display from the woman showing the man who gives him his style.
Our arrival at the exhibition was low key, as the chap on the door accepted the invitation from Julia and let us enter. However, as we reached the display room all that changed as Anton Pomposka minced over. "Dahlings," he simpered, "how lovverly, so divine of you to come. Anton has bringed all the best, the very best artists work for you. Enjoy and buy." He directed us as he moved on.
We were offered a glass of champagne and some canapés. We nibbled and made small talk for a few minutes with some other guests, most of whom we knew from events like this. I'm sure anyone who'd ever bought even a postcard from Anton got an invitation.
Both Julia and I like art. She has a slightly broader taste than I, as my preference is for paintings of things I can recognise rather than nightmares on canvas. Art I can't understand like Picasso is just wasted on my eyes.
We started to view the night’s pictures, intending to work our way left to right round the room. The first three pictures in a group by one artist earned a "Hmmm" from Julia. From me they earned a puzzled look. I seemed to recognise bits of various animals but could not make out a whole one. At the centre of each picture was a sun-like circle around which everything else seemed to be a satellite. The artist came over and explained to us that his work was meant to show that all life needs the sun to survive. I'm afraid I just thought his work pretentious, and moved on.
My Barsetshire Diary (The Barsetshire Diaries Book 1) Page 9