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All material on this website is Copyright © 1995-2007 John Bailey;
 

 
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Tuesday January 16, 2007

Another nine hundred and sixty years

I seem to remember, some time back, applauding myself for clearing all the domestic filing and having a completely clean desk. Well, that was then, and this is now.

"If you don't start clearing that pile on your desk I shall throw the whole lot in the bin," said Graham, who'd just finished the major kitchen tidy and was looking at my study with itchy fingers.

"I hear what you say," I said. "I'll make a start on it just as soon as I've finished this."

Actually, it felt good to see the pile reduced a little. Not a lot, not today, because the two top items on my list required a trip to the post office in the town centre and, coincidentally, Graham had a parcel to send off, too. I'll return to the pile tomorrow and see if I can't put a serious dint in it.

It's still mild. Chill enough to think how nice it was to walk from the street into the warmth and comfort of Costa Coffee but not so cold that we needed anything more than a light jacket over t-shirts. It's forecast to get all wild, wet and windy here again tomorrow and for a few days beyond. No hint of a real drop in temperature, though.

We were too late in the day for croissants, so I had a small chocolate cake to go with my double espresso. The cake was a mistake. It was very tasty but somehow I managed to get chocolate all over my fingers. Instead of damping my napkin as I ought to have done I licked my fingers only to realize as I finished that the last thing I'd done with them was to rummage through the bin of remaindered CDs and DVDs in the post office.

Ye gods and little fishes! I had a significant selection of all the bugs in Bridgwater on my fingers before transferring them to my mouth! I gulped, horror-struck, and swigged the remainder of my espresso down in one go, swirling it on its way, hoping that the lethal mix of strong chocolate and super-saturated coffee would act as a combination antiviral and antibacterial remedy.

"What's up?" Graham asked, and I told him.

"You daft old coot. You're always telling me off for that. Want another coffee to dilute the germs further?"

"Yes please."

Off he went, leaving me thinking that this is the way epidemics start, and spread. Not really. Immune systems are designed to cope with such indiscretions. Even so, I could have slapped myself for my carelessness. I pulled out a pack of antiseptic wipes and gave my hands and moustache a good going over. Might have been a case of shutting the stable door after the chickens have laid the eggs but I can't abide open doors.

It's an odd thing, isn't it? You'd never sit down to eat at home without washing your hands and yet, taking a snack when out...

Ah well, my mother used to tell me I'd have to eat a peck of dirt before I die. She was right, like as not.

Back home we were a little early for lunch but it seemed appropriate even so to settle down to a plate of olive bread, cheese, and tomato salad.

"This is nice," I said.

"Sure is. Food of champions."

"Probably make up for my carelessness in Costa Coffee."

"Like as not. You're too wicked to die young, anyway."

"True. And they say the first person to live to be a thousand years old is already alive. It could be me."

"Better not be."

"Why ever not?"

"If you think I'm going to pick up after you for another nine hundred and sixty-odd years you've got another think coming. Just look at the crumbs you've dropped on the table."

"Oh dear. Sorry."

"Jolly well think so."

Readers' note:  The Haloscan comments are still acting up so I've dropped 'em. The comments feature on the mirror blog works fine.

You may also wish to note that I have decided to cut-over to the blog version somewhere around the end of January. I'll let you know if there will be a need to change your bookmarks; maybe there will, maybe there won't.