Sunday, October 12, 2008
It wasn’t until dinner* that I recounted what I’d dome on my ‘short walk’. Julie was horrified that I’d travelled in time without telling her beforehand**** but Harold’s reaction was the classic.
He did that ‘pause with the fork halfway to your mouth’ action and then, ever so slowly, put his cutlery down.
“I own St Marples’?” he said.
“Yes,” I replied.
“St. Marples’, the fake church in the town?”
“St. Marples, the fake church in town that’s about to be demolished at the owner’s expense?”
“Yes,” I said. “But the good news is that I can get a preservation order put on it, thanks to St. Ethan’s etchings.”
“Oh joy,” said Harold. “That means I have to repair it. That’ll cost even more that demolishing it.”
“Then it’s a good job you have thirty years interest on an initial investment of fifty grand,” I said. “What do you say to that?”
Harold nodded silently. “Pass the roasties,” he said.
*We used to exist virtually on take-aways but since Julie moved in – and Felicia got friendly with Meinwen** we’ve started cooking at home with organic*** produce.
**Meinwen is a health nut. She won’t even drink proper tea.
*** covered in dirt
****Perhaps I should go back to tell her before I go back…