Sunday January 15th, 1:00pm
In kitchen. Waiting for Yorkshire puddings to cook. Emily watching TV. Pain in side still there. Squirrel in the garden eating an olive (it seems we have Wimbledon’s only bourgeois squirrel).
I had a very high-brow dream last night that I was giving a lecture on the correct pronunciation of Russian words. Very odd. Emily had morning sickness for the first time today. She looks miserable, poor thing.
I went to see Granddad at the old people’s home yesterday and the first thing he said when I walked in was.
"It's so hard not to be a racist these days, Harry." I asked him what he meant and he said. "I was talking to this darky fella. From Africa he was. I mentioned that I thought Sammy the Paki had stolen my apple. Next thing the darky fella said I shouldn't use the word Paki because it's derogatory. I told him that Sammy was from Pakistan and a thief. I tell you, Harry, things aren't what they used to be. It's not like the good ol' days."
Granddad’s always going on about ‘the good ol' days', like there was a magical period of time when people would stand on street corners and just give out money and magicians wandered the streets, producing doves for our amusement. When you could buy a new house for a shiny penny, a car with a cheeky smile and every night there was a good old knees-up at the pub. Sort of like Eastenders but without the drama and violence. The only problem with ‘the good ol’ days' is that no-one actually knows when it was, where it was and if it even existed.
"How's everything going apart from the racism and the theft, Granddad?"
"I need to have sex, Harry. I need to feel the pleasure of a woman's touch before I die.”
"Emily and I are having a baby."
"Sex, sex, sex!" Granddad said before Sammy (the Pakistani fella) walked past eating an apple and all hell broke loose. Granddad had to be restrained by two staff members. "I didn't fight in two world wars to have my apple stolen by a bloody Pakistani!" Granddad shouted across the lounge as he was escorted away. For the record, he didn't fight in either war.
As I was leaving the home, I heard someone shout. “Spirit of the dam busters!” And I’m sure it was Granddad.
This Thirtysomething Life: A Diary will be available to buy at http://ma2books.webplus.net/ next May.
Blog soon x
This Thirtysomething Life: A Diary will be available to buy at http://ma2books.webplus.net/ next May.
Blog soon x
