Breadsticks and Teabags

The narrator is a sixty-year old woman. She’s sitting on a red sofa, sipping a cup of tea.

First day back at work today. Everyone asking if you had a nice Christmas, what did you get, do you have any resolutions for the New Year? I try to stay quiet. Christmas is a no-no in our household. Ever since that time when Stephen turned up unexpected on Christmas Day and we had to call the social services to get him taken back. He said he was bringing us presents but he didn’t have anything with him. Just a shopping bag with some breadsticks in it. We gave him some pork pie before he got taken away. All skin and bones, and a bad scratch on his left cheek. He looked a right sight.

So, it led to another family fight over what was whose fault. All the old arguments. John stormed out, although I noticed he came back later for some Christmas pudding. Ada sulked. I went and shut myself in the kitchen with a bottle of ginger wine. Which was where Duncan found me later, when he finally noticed I was missing. Had a nice tea towel from Joan.

I’d like to travel this year. Want to go to Europe, see the mountains, drink coffee in city cafés. The Northern Lights, although I’d need a good coat for that. I sent off for a passport in August. Everybody said it would take ages. The child behind the counter at the Post Office, looked about fourteen, said “You’re not planning on going anywhere soon are you?”, but it was quick as a flash. Came through the letterbox two weeks later. Looks very smart and official with all those pages to fill in. But I don’t care for the photo. Had to get it done in one of those booth things in the porch at Sainsburys with the rain blowing in through the doors. Long list of instructions: adjust the height of the stool, pull back the little curtain behind you, wait until you think it’s not working, then it takes a picture just when you’ve got up to check. Took four attempts and there was a lady outside tutting. I still look startled, as if I’ve just noticed some dust on the sideboard.

Duncan might be a problem. He’ s very comfortable at home he tells me. And there’s so much to see in our own country, why go rambling around the world? Says he’s worried about the carbon from the planes, and now he’s heard we’ll have to give our fingerprints at the border. There’ll be long queues, he says. Do we really want to stand in all those queues? They look at you as if you’re a suspicious person and go through all your luggage. Why go through all that when we could just be enjoying a pasty on the sea front?

Reminds me I need to do the shopping. Get some more milk. And mince for a shepherd’s pie. Or is that a cottage pie? Never seems to matter what it’s called so long as the onions are well cooked.

A few days later. She is peeling potatoes at the sink.

Ada’s asked me if I want to go to Madeira. I said, “Isn’t that where the Mafia comes from?”, but she said no she thinks they are Spanish. Turns out she wants some winter sunshine. “Go and get some Vitamin C”, she says, “all this rain isn’t good for us”. John has to go to a packaging exhibition for work and says he can’t change it so she wants someone to go with her.

I’ll have to make sure we change the milk order. Duncan will be swimming in it otherwise. Like Queen Caroline.

Hums the tune to herself, stops sharply.

Or was that turpentine?

Some time later. She is back from her holiday and looking slightly tanned. She’s had her hair done.

Glad I went. I had my doubts, whether I’d get on with all that foreign food and the money. But Ada had been before. Knows the ropes. Whenever I went to buy anything she’d whip out her phone and tell me what it was worth in English money. Said she’d saved me from a few bad purchases. Nice taxi driver from the airport. He offered to show us the sights, but Ada said no, we’d manage thank you.

The hotel was right on the seafront. A bit like Brighton, but warmer. Our room was at the back. Sharing. Ada had the bed and I slept on the sofa. Fell off one night, but it didn’t wake Ada. Neither did the rubbish lorry at 7 am. They had a bit of the beach just for our hotel and we could order drinks, and sit like real tourists watching the waves. Had to pay for the deckchairs though. We talked a bit but mostly Ada closed her eyes and went to sleep. I’d take a book if I went again.

They can’t make a decent cup of tea, mind. And the fish wasn’t really for me. Too big, and I’m scared of choking on a bone. And they all leave the heads on. Looks up at you accusingly when you’re tucking in. But we had a nice steak and chips in the hotel.

Sounding surprised

He went to Brighton. On his own. Stayed in our usual place and it was foggy so the view wasn’t very good. But he had a nice pasty on the seafront.

Pause I think I’ve got the travelling bug now. Might go on one of those cruises next time. Like on the TV. They go to the Danube, where the waltzes come from. I don’ t think Duncan will want to go. He doesn’t like dancing since he broke his toe. I’ll take my own teabags though.

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