Tableland (19 page)

Kept the promise of an introduction to Sir Richard McPennine to myself, not even dropping a hint of it to Brimcup.

Julie rang Nina this evening to thank her for last night.

Nina said, ‘Wasn't it amazing how well Geoff and Keely hit it off?' And she thanked us for standing in for the Spicers at such short notice.

Am nearly asleep as I write this. Packed up the car this evening and think I can say with confidence that we haven't forgotten anything. Steve has lent us some of his maps and suggested an alternative route to the one I had already planned.

‘This way may seem longer when you look at it on paper, but, believe me, the roads are less congested and I guarantee you'll cut an hour off your journey.'

Decided to take his advice.

How ironic it is to read my last entry and see the fatal words “we haven't forgotten anything.” Left this diary sitting on the bedside table and now have several blank pages for the first time. Will try to recapture the essence of our holiday nevertheless.

Took Steve's suggested route, which would have been good advice but for the fact that we nearly ran out of petrol and there wasn't a garage in sight – the road being rather a lonely one over the moors. Luckily we were able to turn back on to the main road and, despite heavy traffic, arrived at our site at teatime.

Our caravan site was very well run, although, as Julie said, the caravans seemed rather too close together to allow any privacy. However, with a nice couple like Eileen and Neil Truss for neighbours, who could grumble? I think I speak for all of us when I say that our friendship with the Trusses – Neil is in computers – made a lot of difference to our holiday – the weather not being so good. They had spent their last four summer holidays at this very site and knew all the ropes – the best takeaways in Tenby and a very choice little “eatery” called Bung Ho, where we had a very decent meal one evening and joined tables with another couple Eileen and Neil knew by sight. We arrived back at our caravan in the early hours, disturbing a young baby the other side of us, who kept up a yell most of the night after that.

The highlight of our holiday was the fancy dress competition and variety concert held nearby. My effort as Rasputin went down fairly well, I think. Neil, of course, had come prepared and his abominable snowman was a masterpiece, as was Eileen's Turkish delight (full of Eastern promise), which very deservedly won her a plastic potted plant as a prize.

During the concert, a talent contest was held. After much urging by us, Trev did his impersonation of Mick Jagger, but in fact the contest was won by a large school girl taking off both Shirley Temple and Shirley Bassey – not at the same time!

An excellent pair of country and western folk singers entertained us for an hour – Shani and Shaun – and we all joined in with the rousing choruses. It turned out they were staying in the very next camping site.

Neil and Eileen advised us not to miss a trip round the bird sanctuary island, on a local fisherman's boat. It was well worth the bumpy ride and, despite the heavy rain, it was good to see some “local colour”.

We visited a famous beauty spot – a ruined castle down by the beach. The sun shone for about half an hour and seemed to bring everyone in the area out to see the castle too. I thought it would be good for Trev's knowledge of history so we bought a guidebook but became a bit confused with all the names of Welsh chieftains and their battles. Trev said he was doing Mary Queen of Scots at school anyway. Decided to have our picnic tea on the beach and sheltered behind rock out of the wind. Who should be on the other side of the rock but Shani and Shaun! They were locked in an embrace and didn't seem too pleased when Trev asked for their autograph.

Swopped addresses and telephone numbers with Eileen and Neil and have promised to keep in touch. Arrived home at 9 pm.

Had a lie-in and then unpacked the car. Have put all our pots of Welsh honey, fudge, tiny Welsh dolls and a Welsh hat made into a pincushion in a box ready for dispensing to our friends and Julie's mother in due course.

Back to work feeling refreshed after such a good holiday. Everyone keen to hear all about it and wasn't able to get down to some proper business until about 10.30, when I discovered that Proones have had instructions from the architects re the merger and subsequent extensions to the factory. So now we must submit our quote to Proones for fencing and joinery and let's hope it will be lower than Lumberjobs. Steve came round in the evening. They enjoyed their Danish farm holiday and he took some movie film, which he promised to show us at the first opportunity.

Card in the post with a brightly-coloured picture of Denmark on one side and a cheery message from the Downes' on the other. Steve must have wondered why we didn't mention it last night. Must remember to thank him.

Les Crow rang up in the evening to remind Julie that they are playing in a match next week. ‘I'm still thinking about that job he's mentioned,' Ju1ie said, in what I thought was rather a defiant way, as she put down the 'phone.

Had vivid nightmare about Les Crow last night. Dreamt that his moustache grew and grew until it spread all over his face and body and you couldn't see him for hair. Woke up in a sweat.

Busy working on the quotation for Proones, which has to be in the post by Friday. It is very detailed work and I certainly hadn't time to listen to descriptions of the operation Mrs Lush's sister had performed on her last week.

On top of all my paperwork, I had to attend an important trade function in Liverpool today at the Albert Hotel. It was a buffet lunch and a film on windows, given by Clear Vue. The buffet lunch turned out to be a rather good beef curry (although a bit inappropriate for the time of year, I thought to myself) with rice and a glass of red or white wine. The room was packed and airless and an architect, who worked for local authority, kept introducing me to his cronies as one of the managers of Clear Vue. ‘Of course, I only came here for a free lunch,' he said loudly with a wink. ‘I shouldn't say that with you listening, should I?' he joked and patted me on the shoulder. He repeated this twice to different colleagues and he insisted on sitting next to me for the film and slide show and taking yet another glass of red wine with him.

The short film, shown first, was quite straightforward. A brunette with a pink bikini proceeded to open and close a variety of windows in houses, bungalows, factories, warehouses and office blocks.

The slide show had an accompanying soundtrack. A burst of music then a fanfare of trumpets was followed by a slide of yet another window and a voice saying, ‘This is from our new range of neo- Georgian…' (or early Gothic or whatever).

Each time a new slide was shown, my architect friend gave a stifled laugh, spilling some of his drink over my knee.

I wondered if he was being sarcastic or if he just found windows amusing. Finally, the joke became too much for him and he vanished, shaking with laughter, and did not return.

Came out of the hotel with a splitting headache and just got home before a thunderstorm.

The quotation safely in the post now. What a relief. I only hope it will be accepted after all the hard work I've put in. Must get down to some gardening tomorrow. The whole place looks like a wilderness after two weeks' neglect. Julie says the council have been to fix the streetlights.

A postcard from the Spicers and Uppes from their cottage in Cornwall. All seems to be going well – a good time is being had by all.

Worked hard in the garden with Julie and have got it back more or less to normal again. Steve suggested a pint at the Cock and Bull in the evening and I felt ready for it.

I had put on my suede jacket as the evening had turned cool and, putting my hand casually into one of the pockets while explaining a point to Steve and Ken Dugeon, who had also turned up, I felt a cold and steely object. ‘What's this then?' I said aloud and pulled out a fork. Something made me feel in the other pocket, and to my surprise, I found a knife.

‘Hello, hello, hello,' said Ken. ‘What have we here then, a kleptomaniac?' And he laughed.

I couldn't think how they'd got there. Steve took one and inspected it.

‘Bung Ho,' he read out.

With sudden horror, I realised where they'd come from. The last time I'd worn this jacket had been when we'd had a Chinese meal at Bung Ho on holiday with the Trusses, who had dared us to use chopsticks. Taking up the challenge, I must have absentmindedly pocketed the knife and fork.

All this I tried to explain hurriedly to Steve and Ken. Steve said, ‘Alright, alright, we believe you – thousands wouldn't.' But feel sure that Ken gave me a slightly “odd” look. Have I ruined my chances of becoming a Wheeler? Julie said I'm making a mountain out of a molehill, but I'm not so sure. Should I return the knife and fork to the restaurant? Perhaps I could do it anonymously. The incident quite spoilt the day.

Gave the car a good clean to the loud accompaniment of the Butts' transistor – something that sounded like one of Bri's efforts and reminded me that we have still not heard a word from him thanking Julie for the loan. The thought annoyed me. The money had been sent by registered post so he had got it alright. Why had Julie bothered? That was the last we'll ever see of that money. No doubt Bri will keep well away in future. Well, if that is the case, maybe it was cheap at half the price.

Streetlight opposite off again.

Felt a little better about the knife and fork incident after I had put them into a strong brown envelope and posted them back to the restaurant – enclosed no note.

Up to Preston today and made a couple of visits to builders. Fairly promising. One builder happened to be close to a good butcher's, where I bought some black pudding – a nice change for breakfast tomorrow.

Got my instructions for the Wheelers' It's a Knockout, which takes place on Weston's playing fields on Saturday. According to Steve, I am to sell balloons advertising the event on Saturday morning in the town and at 1.15 I am to be at the fields, positioned at the ready on my stall – name of which to be announced later.

Woke up with the feeling that something pleasant was about to happen and remembered the black pudding. It turned out that I was the only one who fancied it so I ate it all.

Felt obliged to wish Julie luck with her tennis match against the Barton team this evening and went round to the back garden to prepare a hole for a shrub called pyracantha which I'm planning to put against the back wall. Steve has one and says it does particularly well on a south-facing wall so I'll give it a try. Was digging away thinking of nothing in particular when I got the shock of my life – a light hand tapped me on the back. I spun round and who should be standing there but Beverley Tarbush holding a jar of marmalade.

‘I thought you'd like this – I make it myself. I made 25lbs of it this year and there's only me to eat it – with my husband being at sea; my son never touches it. It was good of you to fix my vacuum cleaner that night. I know how men like marmalade – with lots of chunks in it'.

‘Thank you very much,' I said, ‘I'm afraid my wife is out at a tennis match at the moment.'

‘That's alright,' she replied in a slight Lancashire accent, which always sounds attractive to a Southern ear. She looked very cool in a dark green dress and I felt hot and sweaty from digging. ‘I don't suppose you'd care for a beer?' I suggested. ‘I was just thinking of having one myself.'

‘Don't mind if I do,' she said.

While we drank our beer in the garden, we talked of this and that. She has been living here for eighteen months and gets very lonely with her husband being away such a lot. Her young son, Barry, seems to be out with his friends all the time and I began to feel rather sorry for her.

Trev appeared on the scene and said I'd promised to take the dog for a walk with him. It was news to me but I suppose I must have said something of the sort in a rash moment.

‘Well, I must be off,' Beverley said with a smile. ‘See you again soon.'

‘Thanks for the marmalade – I'll have some for breakfast tomorrow morning,' I promised and put it down somewhere.

We took the dog for a short walk round the block and then watched a spy film on the telly. Ju1ie didn't get back until quite late.

‘Celebrating our victory,' she explained, flopping into the nearest chair. ‘By the way, Les was telling me more about this travel agency job – sounds fascinating. There's a bit of a snag – I'd have to work some evenings.'

It was a tense moment in the spy film so I just said something like, ‘Would you?'

‘The extra money would be useful,' Ju1ie went on. ‘He said I'd have to let him know by next Wednesday.'

I think I'll have to put my foot down about this job – I'll have to choose the right moment.

Had almost forgotten that I'd put my name down to go on a short course entitled “New Selling Methods” in Manchester next month. The details arrived this morning and gave me a pleasant feeling of anticipation and I would have been quite happy apart from the certainty that Julie and I would have to have a “showdown” quite soon about this stupid job idea of hers.

Collected our holiday photos from the chemist at lunchtime and managed to stop myself from looking at them before I got home. We all picked our favourite. I chose rather a good one – taken by myself – of the view across the bay with rather an interesting cloud formation. Julie chose ourselves and the Trusses at the barbecue we had at Blue Horizon – the last evening of the holiday. We all look very happy – raising our glasses to the complete stranger who kindly took the photo. We had promised to send a copy of this to Eileen and Neil if it turned out well.

Trev's favourite was one taken without my knowledge. It showed Eric in the foreground eating the remains of some fish and chips and me in the background squinting fiercely at my big toe while trying to remove a splinter.