Saturday, October 11, 2008
I arrived home less than an hour after I’d left it. That’s one of the drawbacks about traveling in time – jetlag. It would be if I needed sleep, anyway. Which I don’t. I made do with another cup of tea. The house was still stifling, though as a curious coincidence they were showing Omen II on afternoon telly. There’s a marker of the times for you – in 1978 that was an X rated film (‘18’) but now they’re happy for five-year olds to watch it after Telletubbies. They won’t show the Simpsons, though, in case Bart says ‘Poop’.
Harold was in the middle of his weekly wash and was wearing some odd underwear. He’d abandoned his familiar boxers and was wearing Spiderman underpants. “What do you look like?” I said. “Those underpants don’t go with those Batman socks.”
“Have you been out?” he said, looking up. “You should see this film. I ought to sue them for misrepresentation. I don’t look like that, do I?”
“Not at all,” I said. “They pick actors for their looks.”
I left him to it – Julie was doing a jigsaw on the dining room table. It was one she’d found in the loft when that burglar fell through the roof. Unfortunately the picture had long since faded to blank cardboard but she was enjoying the process anyway, which is the point with jigsaws.
I took a cup of tea – Seventies tea just didn’t taste the same – into the potting shed and summoned Devious. Thankfully he was his normal, scabrous self and no longer sported facial hair. I handed him the manila folder. “Here,” I said, “Go and get the originals of these etchings from the British Library and give them to John to duplicate, then take them back again. Tell me when he’s done.”
“Right Boss.” Devious opened a gate. I could smell hot dogs through it. There’s nothing quite like a barbeque in Hell.