Sunday night and Tim has been “sleep eating.” I know many people sleep walk but Tim goes sleep eating. During the night he got up and had a bowl of coco pops without even realising it, leaving coco pops on the table. One Christmas and Irene asked everyone what they wanted for desert. “ We have got trifle or chocolate profiteroles.” “Profiteroles?” asked Tim, “ are they small chocolate things with cream in?” Irene replied that they were. “I think I ate them last night” says Tim. And he had. Another time we woke up to grated cheese all over the sides and the floor where he had made a sandwich. What a nightmare.
We go out to the club for a dinner time session and I am determined to go kamikaze but I have got indigestion and heartburn so I have to go home but not before I am made to say that I am unwell.
The usual suspects are up for karaoke and it is a pity that there are not more people in the club. David is trying so hard to make it work but even the bar was empty which was strange after the excellent Sunday dinner they had.
My belovéd Brighton manage a win away which gives them a slender lifeline to avoid relegation.
Antony has texted me to tell me that they have got a bouncing bomb at East Kirkby which sets them off again. I tell them that if they mention the bouncing bomb again I am going home. More hilarity.
We were going up the Hatton Flight of locks one year – it was a trip that was crewed by my father, me, brother Alex and Uncle Tim. Our boat wasn’t very big – about forty feet and we approached the flight of locks just as a hotel boat with several Women’s Institute type women on board was at the first lock. The skipper asked if we would like to tie up and go up together.
We tied the front of the boats together but uncle Tim had to sit on top of the hotel boat holding our stern rope as there was nowhere to tie it off. We could tell that the skipper was was not to happy with his crew. He said that they had come through several locks and yet no-one understood what they were supposed to be doing. Lots of chatter and little application. Wrong paddles were lifted, locks were filled when they should have been emptied and he was not a happy man. The thought of the twenty one locks with him having to instruct them every time filled him full of awe.
Father was in his element. Women were his forte and he had a lovely day laughing and joking with them and he definitely had a captive audience. After we had completed the locks the skipper thanked us for our help and both boats moored up at a pub. More hilarity followed with father taking centre stage with the women.
The next day we were going separate ways – we had to get father away from the women anyway or we wouldn’t have got anywhere and father might just have gone missing in action. He took the floor at the end of the night. “Ladies” he said, “I would like to thank you all for a lovely day.” There were smiles all round and looks of self congratulation. “I would also like to say,” he went on, “you, and women like you are the reason we won the war.” There was a round of applause and more self congratulation. “The reason that you helped us win the war is because all of your husbands decided it would be a quieter life at the front-line than staying at home with you lot!” The skipper was on his knees but the ladies departed somewhat disappointed.
I got back in the club at nighttime and tis time it was the adies rubbing my head. Great stuff. And no bowel catastrophes. I see the oncologist on Friday and probably start chemo again on Saturday. Bill and Alan are atking me for a curry on Saturday night. Watch this space!
