The Demise of roland Ratso: Chapter fifty four

Saturday morning and it’s the Company Agm for the club. The club is losing a lot of money and the meeting is bad tempered. There is a lot of self interest and not many positive ideas to make the club work. We go out Saturday night – the singer is average and my fan club is missing so it’s just the ladies that are complimentary tonight. On the noticeboard is a notice detailing that Harvey Turner has died. Harvey was well in his eighties and he used to argue like mad with his wife who died a few months earlier. Harvey was very short – less than five feet tall and he told me of when he was in the Durham Light Infantyr and they were in a landing craft going across the channel on D-Day. The boat beached and the soldier in charge shouted “Everyone out – the water is only five feet deep!” to which Harvey replied “I’m only four feet nowt.” Any way he got off the craft and started running up the beach. There were shells and bullets flying about and planes firing and dropping bombs. Harvey said that he was frightened to death but he continued running up the beach until he saw a foxhole which he dived into. Getting his bearings and looking around he realised that there was no one else as far up the beach as he was. He was on his own. “Wye aye, man,” He said, “I was nearly a hero!” What a great guy and sadly missed. The Ratso got me again this morning – just a wee slider but still bloody inconvenient. Just when you thought it was safe to hang on………….. Tim has turned up – or as I call him the “piss artist once known as Tim.” He has lead Irene astray and they have left me at home to cook the dinner, roast pork, roast taters, brocolli, cabbage and carrots. Quite a difference from mushy peas and curry. I was tempted to go bit there is a big show on at the club tonight and I want to keep myself pristine.