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I took my finger to see the district nurse on the Wednesday and, as I walked in had said, “This might just be the greatest waste of your time.” “Great,” says she, “I’ll get to my lunch all the sooner.” And, loathe as I am to admit it, I am a bit of a wuss when it comes to seeing my own blood. Now, someone else’s blood? Or their vomit? Now, that I can deal with, fine, just not my own.



Anyway, come Thursday I went to sign-on, on a very sunny day and, on a day when many public workers were on strike. Well, as one can get sanctioned for almost anything now, I had decided to go there and see what might happen. I had travelled by bus, writing on the way. Then when I got there I had been told, “Are you on the list? If not, you’re excused signing and, you’ll get your money as usual.”



Come the afternoon we did the Azda shop, as we had plans for the Friday. Then come the evening I went to voluntary work, calling in to a bar I go to, for my whiskey. Now the other week, I stopped longer than the time it takes to down my scotch, saying to the lady behind the bar, “I know it sounds crass, but you look pretty in pink.” She had. Then the next week, I’d asked her for her name, to be told ‘Samantha.’ I had thanked her, telling her my name, prior to leaving.



This week she was there again. And, as she poured my drink she had said, “How are you…?” using my name, so I’d returned the greeting, using hers. When she seemed surprised I had recalled it, I had said, “I do recall thing’s, when I want to…”



Well, the evening had been quite quiet, thankfully; as I had an idea of what to expect the next day.



Come the Friday the gas engineer Dad expected did not all on time, but Barry had. We’d whiled away some time at the Mere, a Dad got ready to go to Birkenhead and Murreyfields the private hospital, where they’d previously done his eyes, for the NHS. And, Barry was patience itself, as we had to wait a tad longer than I’d expected.



Once home I made the meal, with Dad insisting on helping. After tea he even took over watering in the garden, when my knees decided I needed to rest them awhile. And much later, as Dad slept, I sat writing into the early hours, my body tired and, my mind well hyper…





After housework on the Monday, it was another hot day, that I spent in a robe, socks and skids. {calvin klein skids, black.}Later, I needed a strip down wash after my walk to the Raby Mere: It seems the fellow who got the cottage three years ago is going to open an ice-cream parlour, opposite where I sit on the wall. I had made a point of wishing him well, with the project. I cooked tea, after which Alex called. I’d two fils to watch, both excellent – ‘Tarzan’ 2013 CGI and, ‘Appleseed Alpha’ also CGI animation and, based on a graphic novel I recall, from years ago. Caught up watching snippets of both, we had ended up watching neither…



The next day I awoke slowly, after a bad nights sleep. So as soon as I was able, I took my left knee for a limp on another sunny day, to cancel the appointment with the district nurse, as my finger has healed so well. On my way out I had interrupted Dad mid-job: “An if you want your big poppies nect year, collect me a seed pod,” I said.

“Do you think I can think of dead heading now?” He’d retorted, “I’m busy.”

“What are you doing?” I’d asked.

“Waterproofing the side of the house,” he’d told me, before I walked away.

Well, hours later I returned and, as Dad drank the tea I had made for him, he laid back on the couch and moaned, “There mut be something wrong with me, I used to be able to go up and down ladders for eight hours a day, now I get tired after a few hours…”

I don’t think he was being serious, but either way; I reminded Dad, “You’re 87.”



Needless to say, the next morning as I left home through the back door I had not been surprised to see what I had: there had been my Dad, up a set of double ladders, finishing the job he had started, water-roofing the brick.



Well, I’d got my camera out and taken a photograph of what he was up to, saying to him; “I’m going to show it to Doctor Brocki.”



“No don’t…” He’d said, “She’ll tell me off.”



“I know,” I’d muttered, as I walked up the drive and began my walk. He’s 87 and knows she’d disapprove of him going up ladders so high, or up on the roof, as he has.



Later that evening I saw Barry and told him about the photograph. He had then remonstrated me with a smile, saying to me, “That’s not right… If at his age he wants to, who’s to say ‘no’?” It had been a good question to ask.



Well, I did not do the giants in Liverpool, as I’m not that keen on crowds. But I did listen to the whole thing on the radio and, after seeing the spider, I could well visualize the giants ‘walking’ the streets of Liverpool. Then again, I did finish a story and got high from that achievement. It is the precursor to a prequel to my Shade stories and kind of ties up many of the back-story I’ve used, developing my own ‘little’ universe. Ideally, finishing it will provide the much-needed impetus, to finish a few other projects.

The next weekend Barry and I went in the same direction as we had the weekend before, when the car had sounded so weird going over a road surface, which had driven us back home, after a diversion on a good afternoon.

Only this time we had gone to Loggerheads, after a ramble in a wood, after a pee-break, we took at a pull-in that had led to a former quarry, where Barry had gone breaking slivers of rock. I had tried and then hit my right trigger finger. The accident had caused no direction pain, at first. The impact had been so great the skin had split apart, as if it were a laceration and boy, did it bleed.. The wound had not stopped us from sitting awhile by a stream and seeing a yellow wagtail feeding ‘on the wing’ and the blue shimmer of a kingfisher, as it had flown by. That had looked awesome.

Back at the car I got my bag and Barry had got the sandwiches and we went a good walk, before stopping to eat and film. The good weather had stayed with us the whole day and, for the journey home… Though I knew my knees and hips would ache for days, it had certainly been worth it…

The Doctor Who Convention at The Hilbre Pub that I went to had been the event I had wanted and had provided me some interesting images, as well as stories from people I’d found fascinating, because of their experiences on the show and beyond. There had been the fellow who played the Axon Man, Bernard Molley and although I’d had to leave before the main guest Colin Baker, arrived; I had got to see three ladies who had each worked on the show for many many years and knew much. I had found it interesting that they and a later guest, Terrence Dicks all had a disparate view of the worth of John Nathan Turner to the show. I had also been pleased to see Paul Darrow who had played Avon in ‘Blakes Seven’ and has had two roles in Doctor Who. And, as many had gathered around waiting for autographs, I’d made my way to the gents to go for a pee. On the way Paul Darrow had tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Thanks for a good question…” The question hadn’t been that good really, I had just asked of his co-star from ‘Blakes Seven’ Jacqueline Pearce. Much later a friend told me a rumour that she was happy in Africa, smoking dope and looking after monkees. Whether or not it is true, it’s different from the last I saw of her, on a piece on tv, nude modelling in Cornwall. And, while at the convention I’d amused myself by telling someone there with a good homemade current Dalek, that when I had been five my Father had built me one from BBC plans, in the Radio Times. Showing surprise he had sai, “They were out of scale.” I had said that I knew, but my Father being a modelmaker, so that had not been an issue, for him. And, although the event carried on without me, I’d had the day that I had wanted…

COMMENTS

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moonkissed
23:23 Jul 02 2014

It sounds like a good day was had.

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