Foggy's Blog

by Jo Edwards

a touch triumphantly, I thought. “He only gets colds and things because he’s so downtrodden and depressed. I mean, just look at him, the poor thing; that limp hair, those awful clothes. He’s obviously given up. It’s not fair of the company to pick on the infirm.”

  I shifted uncomfortably in my seat and looked down at my best suede desert shoes from Florence & Fred at Tesco’s. I knew Jess was just saying these things to support me but I thought she might be over playing it a little.

  “Sounds dreadful for you, Morten,” Kate said, sympathetically. “Obviously if things are that bad, you’ve been to see your doctor?”

  “Course he has!” Jess jumped in.

  “And what sort of support is he giving you?” Kate addressed me, holding up her hand to silence Jess. “I want to hear from Morten.”

  I hadn’t been to the doctors! I hated telling lies; I could feel my face getting hot. “Um, well, he said that I should try not to worry too much about everything,” I managed, still looking down. “You know; he said I should try some, er, relaxation exercises.”

  “Such as?” prompted Kate.

  “Um, like, um,” Oh God, I couldn’t think of anything! “Like, well, you know, lying down and er, deep breathing and things.” Clang!

  “For Christ’s sake George, turn that bloody thing off!” Kate suddenly shrieked, making us all jump out of our skins. I thought a bit of wee had escaped. George sulkily fumbled with his phone while Kate glared at him. “Are you writing all this down?” she snapped, jabbing her finger at his doodle of a stick man dangling from a noose.

  There was a short silence as George scribbled something on his pad. Kate rubbed her forehead; she did look very tired, perhaps she was working too hard. “Morten,” she sighed. “Are you seriously trying to tell me that you’ve been suffering from various stress-related illnesses for over a year and all your doctor has recommended is that you take some deep breaths?”

  “His doctor didn’t want to stress him out with anything too heavy,” explained Jess. “Not with all his mental health issues. I think his doctor is more like a faith healer, if you know what I mean. He said Foggy had a very dark aura, which causes fear to collect in his body and it can’t get out, so it’s made him go a bit doolally.” I shot her a grateful look; she was so good at this, she should really put her name down to be our official union rep.

  Kate’s lips twitched. “Well, sadly, that rather spiritual approach doesn’t seem to be improving your attendance does it, Morten? I think what I’ll do, if it’s ok with you, is obtain a report from your doctor. That way, we can ensure everything possible is being done to support you with your problem.”

  Argh! I hadn’t been to the doctors in yonks! The last time had been for my adenoids, but the doctor had just snapped, “Gargle with salt water and tell the next patient to come in,” and the time before that must have been when I was a little boy and the doctor diagnosed glue ear, although for years I thought he’d said to Mum, “He’s got flu, dear”.

  “He doesn’t have to agree to a report!” protested Jess, sensing my panic.

  “But why ever wouldn’t he?” Kate sounded astonished. “It’s only so we can make sure Perypils is doing all it can to support him. Do you agree to it, Morten?”

  “He has rights!” Jess shouted. “You can’t just dilate him!”

  George made a strangled noise in his throat, which turned into a prolonged coughing fit. Gosh, perhaps he was coming down with something too! The whole office was riddled with germs.

  Kate looked at me. “I’ve no wish to, er, violate you, Morten, but if you won’t agree to us obtaining a doctor’s report, you’ve left me with no other choice.”

  Oh God no! She was going to sack me! I glanced at Jess in horror but she seemed to have run out of things to say in my defence and was glaring angrily at George. I couldn’t lose my job – I had responsibilities now, an overdraft, a credit card, the loan for Mum’s solar panels - and how would I ever get to see Dad if I couldn’t invest in his company? My heart was racing, I was light-headed, and I thought I might pass out. I really did feel stressed and anxious now!

  “So I’m going to issue you with a written warning,” Kate continued. “If you can’t improve your attendance to within the required five percent over the next three months, your employment could be terminated.” I startled myself by letting out a joyous whimper. I’d never made a sound like that before! “Oh, that’s wonderful!” I gasped. “A written warning! Thank you Kate! Thank you so very, very much!” I went to clutch her hands but remembered my fingernails and held them up to my own chest instead.

  Kate looked at me closely. “Do you understand what I’ve just said, Morten?” I nodded and beamed at her. “Because I’m not sure why you’re smiling like that.” She leant forward and spoke very slowly. “Just to be completely clear and forgive me for speaking so plainly; if you keep going off sick Foggy, you’ll be out on your arse. Your reference from Perypils will say you were dismissed and your whole life will go to rat’s shit.” I kept smiling gratefully at her. “Don’t write that last bit down George, for Christ’s- oh, never mind. You can go now, Morten. And, er, Jess - thank you for your truly memorable contribution.”

  I left the room with Jess feeling on top of the world. I was keeping my job! It was just brilliant. Jess had been fantastic; even Kate had recognised it. As I closed the door, I heard her say, “Open the window will you George? I’m going to jump.”

  Poor Kate; even though she was obviously feeling a bit down herself, she always covered it so well, with such great kindness and compassion. I thought I’d dip into my overdraft again at lunchtime and get her some flowers from the mad gypsy woman outside Wilkinson’s. As a really special thank you.

  I love Lucy

  It was the first rehearsal of Grease tonight and I was sitting at the back of Jubilee Hall watching Tom putting Frankie Trevino and Thin Lizzie through their paces. Frankie looked so cool; he was wearing a baseball jacket and trendy designer jeans. I tried to see what the label was surreptitiously, but he caught me and snapped, “Don’t look at my bum, you bender!” He was clearly feeling the pressure already.

  Tom was demonstrating some breathing techniques to Lizzie, standing behind her with his hand just below her chest, getting her to breathe in and out very deeply. If only he’d chosen Myra for Sandy! He’d have saved himself so much time; she didn’t need breathing exercises. Her music teacher once told her she had a magnificent set of pipes and he often thought of them as he beat out a rhythm. I wonder what happened to old Mr Riddler? One day he was in school as normal, the next day he’d gone. We were never told why. Most peculiar.

  Myra couldn’t make tonight. When I’d called round, her mother had told me she didn’t feel like going out because “the reds were playing at home”. I wasn’t sure what that meant but I saw Myra briefly in the hallway, clutching a hot water bottle to her tummy. Oh no – she had a bad stomach too! I hoped she hadn’t caught it from me!

  I was thinking about my father as I sat in the hall. I’d been to the bank at lunchtime to withdraw some money for Kate’s flowers and had been stunned to see my balance was almost one thousand pounds in credit! When I’d asked at the enquiries counter, I was told that the funds were from a personal loan I’d taken out. They told me Dazza had arranged it. Puzzled, I waited at Dazza’s pod to speak to him, but he was having a rather heated discussion with an older male colleague. I wasn’t sure what it was about but I overheard “nicking my customers” “little gobshite” and when Dazza hissed “right Baldie, out the back now” I thought I ought to walk away.

  I’d had to give the flowers to Jess because when I’d walked back into the office with them she squealed, “Ooh, are those for me?” and I didn’t have the heart to say no. Still, what with the loan, the overdraft and the credit card, I now had more than enough money to invest in Dad’s company! Should I send the minimum £500 or a bit more? He did say he could double it, but maybe I shouldn’t be too greedy. But if I did a little more, he may be a
ble to visit even sooner. I could invite him to the opening night of Grease! He might even sit with Mum, as it was a special occasion; maybe they could put their differences behind them, just for one night. Imagine that; Mum and Dad together again - it would be a dream come true.

  There was a squeal of metal and a strong smell of glue as Barry Lund crashed down into the chair next to me. “Wotcha Foggy! Where’s the beast tonight? In the graveyard howling at the moon again is she, or staying in to shave her palms?”

  My mate Barry - always the joker! It was lucky Myra thought so too; she said he was “such a card”. I told him Myra wasn’t feeling herself tonight. He roared with laughter and exclaimed, “I bet she’s not mate! Even a vibrator would insist she put a bag over her head first!” Tom swung round angrily in our direction and shushed at us.

  “What are you doing here?” I whispered to Barry.

  “Rehearsals, innit? I’m playing whats-his-name. You know, the gangster one that gets off with all the girls. Can’t bloody wait.”

  I stared at him. How on earth had Barry got that part? “But, you weren’t at the auditions!” I stuttered, forgetting to whisper. “How did you get to play the leader of the Scorpions?” I could have played that part!

  Barry sniffed and shrugged.