Part Four
To Covent Garden with George and Belinda. Not my cuppa. Found that I didn't care whether the hero defeated the forces of evil or not and fell asleep before the interval. Not sure how I got home where on the morrow found a peculiar pair of green socks in my trouser pocket. At the Liberal club that evening saw Barry who had his left foot up on a chair swarthed in bandage after his operation. He got no sympathy and several attempts were made to sit on it. He was immediately baptised Bigfoot.

On our way to St James Park a French woman came up to Eric and me clutching a map and and said "Parlez-vous Francaise? " Well, I'd done a bit of the old French lingo albeit a few years ago and so replied "Wee, umper" which I'm reliably informed means "Yes, a little." Whereupon she says "Oh, excuse me please."and walks off leaving me a bit on the flumoxxed side. Eric told me that his wife had been to Calais a few weeks before and had been offered some "Jenesaisquoi." Dont touch it, Eric advises, as it tastes of cough medicine and is horrible. Apparently it leaves an appalling after taste.

Jim mentioned that his nephew had written to ask for information on the family tree. Jim's not keen. I suspect black sheep by the cart load.

There's a new bloke just moved into the area who comes to the Railway now and then. He tells everyone that his wife works for MI6 and spies on everything that moves. A bit worrying that. He has a nice fund of jokes though - for instance he told us that  he goes to a night club in the East End where you have to wash your hands BEFORE you go to the toilet and apparently the bouncers there throw you IN!

Well, Wimbledon tennis is upon us and I'm thinking of chopping down my privet hedge and providing pay parking facilites for visitors. I reckon parked tightly I can fit two cars in sideways - and if they have sun-roof access - three. I thought of doing tea and scones as well but need to speak to Harriet first to see if she'll help out on that front. I could wear my straw boater and the pinny the wife bought me in Klagenfurt four years ago, as I move seductively among the visitors carrying my tray of goodies!

They've laid down the usual green swarth at the front of Wimbledon station - last year they had a Federer look a like playing tennis on it with the kids which went down well. I thought he was the real thing but young Tom put me right. Also a Cliff Richard impersonator who sang well but looked more like that dapper little dancer what's his name? The one with the teeth. I wonder what would happen if Cliff Richard impersonated himself one year? Wimbledon has had shouters and screamers, howlers and grunters - what next I ask myself with some trepidation?

25 June At Salisbury races had a good day's racing all in all. Slightly spoiled by a bunch of rowdy besuited yobs all wearing horrible orange and yellow ties who climbed to the upper storey of Tattersall's stand and spent the afternoon howling like monkeys. After the races were finished one of their number, a big pot bellied brute dressed as Superman led the gang out onto the race course where he tried to 'fly like a bird' but conspicuously failed to free himself from earth's gravity. The gang were eventually gathered together, ushered onto their bus and driven off into the gathering twilight still howling and calling for more beer and nuts. Home in time for the second half of the European Cup despite having to detour because of an accident near Salisbury.

I was thinking of John Betjeman the other day while going by bus to Holborn to see the Charles Dickens memorial. Someone once asked Betjeman in old age what he would do differently if he had his time again. He said that he would have more sex. I find as I get older that things are redefined, priorities changed - or so it seems to me - and I can quite see what he meant. At the latter end of life the natural things grow more important and the human constructs, work, money, custom etc etc which we force on ourselves are seen for what they are - just constructs. I am also more aware with horror of the games that people play. I mentioned it to Barry over a pot of Oolong in a nice little caff we discovered at the back of Fleet street and he also agrees with Betjeman though he raised a valid point: where is this extra sex at our age to come from? And so to bed.

A strange dream last night. I dreamed I was on the moon Europa making love to Gladys Fanshawe by the reflected light of the planet Saturn. All was going well until I suddenly got cramp in my left leg, made a wrong movement and in the low gravity flew off the bed at high speed, ending up in eternal orbit about Saturn. Weird. I put it down to Betjeman and that quatre fromages pizza I had at Salisbury.

The wife rang to say that her sister had gone into hospital for a minor exploratory and so she would be coming home for a long weekend. Panic stations! I had a hunt around and eventually found the hoover skulking in the spare bedroom - and did a quick hoove about the place. When the wife got back the Company Inspection was extensive and minute. I was put on report  over prune pips found at the back of the fireplace which frankly I'd forgotten about. I thought about explaining all; the comradeship that can arise when men spit pips as one but realised that only they (as opposed to the fair sex) have the capacity to understand the finer feelings involved here and so let sleeping dogs lie. I reckon a C for effort? Hey ho!

30 June An embarrasing morning! Came down the stairs this morning singing like a bird, happy as the proverbial, put the kettle on and stuck two pieces of bread in the toaster. Then foolishly went back upstairs for ablutions. A couple of minutes later the browning toast set off the fire alarms. Harriet next door was devouring rice crispies in the nude in her kitchen and unfortunately panicked. She ran into the back garden and was spotted by poor old George who suffered an apparent seizure. It turned out to be just shock but I wonder how far my chain of causation extended? I mean suppose George had been on a ladder and had fallen off onto  someone else. If that person had suffered broken bones and then had been involved in a crash on the way to casualty which had then ignited a major fire , which in turn had released  a major toxin into the environment etc etc. Brrrrr. Ablutions before breakfast I think.

To the dentist. I've had a pain in a tooth for a few weeks now and it had reached the point where needs must. The dentist filled her syringe and jabbed the old needle into my gum. The trouble was I could still feel everything a few minutes later. So she repeated the procedure. Same result. I was beginning to think that I was superman and unaffected by mere human made chemicals when after the fifth jab in the old Frances she realised that she hadn't closed the syringe properly and most of the novocaine was headed straight down my gullet. Well it certainly anaesthetised  the old haemorrhoids a few hours later and so didn't go entirely to waste but that's hardly the point; it's not what I'm paying through the nose for.

It set me thinking about the time a colleague fell ill in Pakistan. I had the same blood group and so volunteered to give blood. I donated my pint and then sat there waiting for my cup of tea and biscuit. A nurse came by and asked what I was waiting for. I explained that I thought I had been inadvertantly omitted from the tea and biscuit list. She said: "We are not a tea house.There is one around the corner. You can go there." It made me think how pampered we are in Britain.

At that time I lived in Rawalpindi and was learning Urdu. I wanted to learn Pushto as well and so when an elderly man came to my house offering lessons I  hired him immediately. I spent the first few days repeating over and over the sounds he made and then learning them by heart. After a week of little progress I eventually realised with horror that not only was he not a Pushtu teacher but he had no knowledge of Pushtu either! La la la la la!

Message received from the Gnats in Estonia:  the Cheshire delicasies sent recently much appreciated. Please send more asap!