The Fêteful Day

went fine. A mild and brief shower, just when the high school’s wind band was entertaining us, but they played on as their sheet music started to curl and it was over in a couple of minutes – the rain that is. From then onwards, it was a fine day.

I showed Norfolk village granny credentials by strolling along, burger in one hand, pint of beer in the other, pushing Pugsley in his pushchair with a couple of leftover fingers.

Dilly and Al went to the local theatre this evening and Ro was babysitting, so we took our dinner through to keep him company and then the Sage went to do whatever Sages do on a Saturday evening while Ro and I watched a film. We took the Mac with us, as it enjoys the company. Besides, Al and Dil have been having a major springclean and their television is temporarily in their bedroom and the Mac is much bigger than a laptop, almost as easy to transport (I exaggerate) and better for two people to watch films on. Hot Fuzz. Haven’t seen it before. Chortled happily.

When we came back, Ro carrying the computer (screen and comp are all-in-one), I with the keyboard, mouse, tray of dinner plates etc, newspaper and bits and pieces, we discovered that the Sage had gone out without telling us or leaving us a key. I went and asked for the spare key. Al had it on his keyring. Al was in the bathroom. Then he couldn’t find his keys. He searched, with no useful result. Dilly glanced and found the keys. “Not her fault” I explained. “It’s what women do and men don’t.”

Being small-minded and of a teasing frame of mind, I have left the key in the locked door, so that the Sage will have to knock when he gets home. I hope that’s soon actually, as I’m quite tired. Unusual for me to think about going to bed before midnight; I don’t like to miss the best bit of the day – well, one of them – but I was up early. And will be tomorrow.

23 comments on “The Fêteful Day

  1. Gordie

    I’m liking the Norfolk village granny credentials. I went to a village wedding today. The bride paid me the ultimate compliment of marrying someone far more suitable than I. She looked happy, and utterly beautiful, on the back of her favourite tractor. Her mother is thinner and sexier, but alas, also spoken for.

  2. Mr Farty

    I liked Hot Fuzz too. If you haven’t seen Shaun of the Dead yet, watch that too; there are some parallel scenes to HF.

    So what time did the not-so-Sage get home?

  3. Z

    Gordie – that is sheer poetry. I wish I could write like that

    Mr F, I saw Shaun of the Dead at the cinema, in the days when I got out more. The Sage arrived home at 11.15 or so. I did get to bed early; it was 11.58 when I turned the light out.

  4. Z

    It was a – well, homage? Send-up? – of Dawn of the Dead, which was being remade at about that time. Many of the same cast. Very good.

  5. Eddie 2-Sox

    The Norfolk grannies in my neck of the woods seem to match your description, but with the addition of half a dozen unattractive gold chains, three rings on every finger, a roll-up fag in their mouth, at Least five visible tattoos, and a vocabulary of less than one hundred words.

    Please come and visit and raise the tone a bit?

  6. Z

    you wha’, Simon? nah, ain’t got no tattoos, don’t smoke, can’t keep up wiv your friends.

    Anyway, I’d be too busy chatting up the fit single dads, and I’m a bit old for that really.

  7. Z

    Ooh, another gentleman of the cloth. Welcome, dear sir.

    As a drink, I feel it might catch in the throat and make me cough. I believe the term refers to a highly-alert and conscientious (possibly, almost to a fault) police officer.


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