Pardon me?


I have an old friend, let us call him Victor who I have known since I was a young gal. Victor and I share the bills and it is a mostly happy arrangement.  Unfortunately, he is going deaf. So am I and if you put the two together it isn`t necessarily a wonderful combination. Victor`s condition is not assisted by his regular pouring of copious amounts of olive oil into his ear canal. I actually believe he likes the feeling as it trickles inside his head, it`s a bit weird really but there you are, it wouldn`t do for us all to be the same. If you turned Victor upside down and shook him vigorously over a plate of freshly picked rocket leaves, he would produce a very acceptable salad dressing….. I digress.

This morning I awoke and as is my routine, started to run a bath. I was especially looking forward to my bath since my daughter has given me some Badedas which I love and I was anticipating an early morning soak in those lovely, green, scented bubbles. Alas it was not to be. The lights didn`t work and the water was cold. Bugger. I stuck the stick thing into our pay as you go electricity meter cursing the fact for the scrillionth time that we do not pay by direct debit. Nothing happened. We have been having work done in the house and it occurred to me that this may have something to do with the lack of light. In the absence of anyone else I woke Victor up to see if he could assist. He had been very late going to bed as he had been out with friends and so was not in the most beautiful of spirits. Rising from his bed he (rather reluctantly I would say) agreed to take a look. As the electricity meter is situated roughly 12 feet up near the ceiling we have to stand on a stool to see what`s happening. It`s a risky manouvre especially at our advanced age but to have the meter moved down would cost me £800, so bugger that. Victor grabbed   “the stool”  and stood on it and I retired to the kitchen. I could hear him calling me,  “Hel, where is it?”  but as he knows very well from forty years of frequenting each others` lives, I won`t respond to conversations shouted from the other end of the house…… so I stayed put. He called again only much louder this time,  “Where is it?”  meaning,  “Where is the stick thing?”  so I shouted back,  “It`s on the table in the front room!” “I can`t hear you Hel.” “I can`t hear you Victor!”

At this point and as commonly occurs, Victor gave up and sighing audibly he patiently waited for me to give in and go to him in the hall which of course I did. Old habits die hard. Victor was standing on the stool, leaning against the top of the front door, his head resting upon his forearms in a typically hang dog attitude. He was muttering to himself,  “Where is it,”  and  “I suppose I shall have to get it myself,”  and  “I suppose I shall have to get down off this stool and find it and then get back up again, mutter mutter…..”

At this point we were joined by another person resident in the house who had been unceremoniously woken up by all the kerfuffle. “Victor, you are shouting, have you lost something?  Can I help you find whatever it is you are looking for?” he helpfully enquired. Letting out a lengthy sigh Victor bellowed, “I CAN`T HEAR YOU.”

“YOU ARE SHOUTING VICTOR!” said our young guest. I handed Victor up the stick thing and he shoved it in the meter. After two attempts, the electricity came back on. Hallelujah! I trailed back upstairs to resume my bath apologising to resident person on the way. It took about ten minutes to get the water from cold to hot but I did finally manage it. Afterwards I stood in the window wrapped in my towel waiting for the Badedas man to arrive in the garden below me. I`m still waiting………………………….. 🙂

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