The Demise of Roland Ratso: Chapter twenty seven

Outside and the two anti-smoking wardens are being accosted by an irate man. I often wondered why they went about in twos and I now see why. “Who is in charge of you” he shouts. “Security” replies the warden. “I want a bloody name” he shouts again. “You’ll have to get in touch with security” the warden reiterates. The man explodes. “I want a bloody name!!!!!!!” he shouts. Hell hath no fury like a smoker scorned. I have lived with smokers all my life – all of my family have done it and I do understand the addiction but not the self righteousness. You can do all sorts of things to a smoker but don’t ever interfere with their habit! My brother and I were lucky because our grandmother cured us of the habit before we even started by insisting on combing our hair with a cigarette in her mouth which she blew through blasting undiluted smoke into our faces. If we complained she used to do her nut so thanks Gran for curing us of smoking before we even started! Wonder what would have happened if our father had tried the same with urine? I feel a little elated on the way home. The first stage is complete and I have got over a week off. My feet are no longer sore. My back is improving. And my bum is getting so much better. The sun roof is open. It is a beautiful crisp day and somehow the skies are bluer and the sun is shining brighter. Have a nice day! Wednesday 11th March and I have no hospital. I woke with all sorts of good intentions. No chemo drugs. Just my diabetes, blood pressure and anti-biotics. Irene has plans as well to go to the local market then suddenly I am hit by a wave of nausea which is literally sickening. My arse is also very sore. So much for the improvement. Jonathan is in the garden supposedly levelling the ground for my shed base. He just thinks he can drop slabs on a lot of rubbish and is now upset because I tell him it has to be dug out, levelled and then sand has to be spread. He lights a fire to get rid of some combustibles after checking there is no-one’s washing out. It won’t make a difference. They will still complain. Some time ago I was having a fire in the garden and I heard a scraping sound followed by a man’s head appearing over the nine foot fence. He had dragged his stepladders down the path to see what I was doing. “Put that fire oot” he said in a finest North Eatern accent, “ I am sick of ye always having fires.” I tell him it is the first fire I have ever had in about fifteen years. “I’m telling the council” he says and I hear the ladders being dragged back up the path. The man from the council comes round and tells me that I am a nuisance having fires every day. I explain that I have NEVER had a fire in my garden before and I am trying to tidy up at considerable mess. He tells me that if I just have the fire today everything will be OK and he will go and tell the neighbour what I am doing. I hear the ladders scraping down the path again and the head reappears. “I telt the council man and he says that you have to put oot yer fire.” I tell him that is not what the council man said and furthermore he had told the council man a lie. I had never had a fire before and he told him I had a fire every day. I finished off by telling him that the Lord will not take kindly to him telling lies. Later it came back to me that I was Jehovah’s witness and didn’t allow my children any toys and we never had Christmas. Somewhat ironic as I am a confirmed atheist! Mr. Stepladders and his wife had spread the rumour after my off the cuff remark and I often watched her pointing at my house from the bus stop and gossiping to her fellow conspirators. Careless talk and all that!