My Barsetshire Diary (The Barsetshire Diaries Book 1) Page 2

Sunday , July 18, 2010

  The Nieces Arrive

  6.00 am

  Still raining and Lady Julia still snoring which balanced out the start of my day nicely. I had time to enjoy my first cup of tea of the day along with my first super-king-size cigarette with no-one here to chastise me about it. My morning bode well. I knew the day would be enjoyable as my two nieces were to visit after which we would take them to the city to see my daughter in her new home.

  9.00 am. Lady Julia was awake. I took her first jumbo sized coffee to the bedside and her daily horse pill to swallow with it. As usual there was a grimace that I wasn’t quite sure was at the size of the tablet or at me. I could also see the nose twitch to try and catch me out with the smell of nicotine that my Christmas bottle of 'Hulk’ by Poisson could not fully disguise. I beat a hasty retreat to my private domain to answer the mail. Such a difference today in deference to Sunday. I was being asked if I wished to purchase a property in Beirut. Guaranteed to treble in value once I remove the land mines. Hmmm, I might bear that in mind as an investment. I wonder where Beirut is?? Maybe Bosworth the Builder from the upper village may know. He's done work everywhere. Reminder to myself. Ask him!!

  10.00 am. The cat ran in and was cowering under my chair. The girls must have arrived. I keep telling Joanna that the handbrake needs fixing.

  I saw Karina and Joanna coming in the front door and Lady Julia rushing to air kiss them while simultaneously wrapping her hands round the wilted flowers which were a belated birthday gift from last Thursday. No doubt the flowers were beautiful at that time but now lack of water from four days in the car had taken their toll. I could have taken bets on who would win the race to the vase - the flowers which attempted to shed each petal or my wife who wanted to retain as much as she could. I got a swift hug from each girl and they reminded me that it was getting harder to put their arms round my waist each week, as I protested that it wasn’t my fault, it must the diet I was on! They obviously didn’t understand the privations I suffered.

  10.30 am. We left. The house was locked up and the cat I could see through the window had finally gained enough nerve to come out from under my chair. Julia would be driving today so I would be the co-pilot. The girls were in the back trying to remove an assortment of horseshoes, blankets and liniments from the seat. The car had a distinct smell of horse as I was sure she carried a little something for the roses in there the day before.

  The journey went smoothly and by 11.30 we arrived and piled out of the car. Our faces appeared to be a variety of puce. Reminder to myself... get windows fixed.

  Whilst the girls cooed around the house Lady Julia and I made a coffee and sat down to enjoy it. One of my daughter’s more adventurous cats, Maddy, (emphasis here on the MAD) decided I was to be the one sufficiently honoured to stroke him and to hold forth on what a good looking boy he was. He vaulted from halfway up the stairs via the banister and landed squarely in my lap. I not only became a farmer with two 'achers' so to speak, but I also drenched and scalded my kneecap with the coffee. I jumped up in pain and Maddy in disgust as I had the temerity not to stroke him despite his efforts.

  2.00 pm. Lunch been and gone. My roast beef and Yorkshire pudding was the works. I had my daughter’s potatoes and she my asparagus which was nice. However in view of my diet I declined the sweet trolley and just had coffee. How good am I?

  Then it was time to trip along the banks of the River Dee. Gasping for breath and wincing at the feeling of my crutches slipping on the cobblestones the girls announced a little shopping was in order. Lady Julia saw my grimace but her look informed me that there was no reprieve. I heard her mutter something about 'peas', and then she smirked.

  Many men have suffered as I and in the same silence as the women traipsed around dangling various unmentionables before my eyes in the shop. Why on earth they would think I was interested I don't know. Joanna waved a set of something vaguely silky before my eyes and twittered about divine colours. My wife seemed to be enjoying the expedition greatly.

  4.00 pm. Embarrassment over we hugged my daughter goodbye and headed home with the girls. An uneventful journey.

  4.45 pm. The girls headed for their own car to go home. I could feel the cat’s claws through my shirt as he clung to my back in fear of touching the ground until the car had gone. Peace reigned and my back didn't sting too much from the antiseptic cream Lady Julia had kindly applied to my injuries. At least she said it was antiseptic cream - why this sudden warmth?

  6.00 pm. We managed to wash off the 'Deep Heat' my wife had rubbed into my back by mistake. It feels so much better. I think I'll settle down to watching Antiques Roadshow in peace and quiet.

  Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

  Monday, July 19, 2010

  Joey Has a Ball

  Lady Julia disappeared quite early this morning to tend the horse. The groom had rung to say Pilgrim had thrush and at that point I had crept away happy in my ignorance while the conversation took place.

  During a spell between showers I betook myself on a walk through the village. I called in at Bosworth's Yard to ask him if he knew Beirut. The man's a fool. He said it was somewhere in the Middle East or Africa or some such. I'm sure I've seen it down in Devon. Anyway, having endured so many English summers and winters I have decided that a nice little holiday home in Provence would be nice. The French are OK except for the fact that they don't speak English very well of course. It may not be the best choice for Her Ladyship as I'm told they eat horses and she wouldn't be happy if Pilgrim ended up on the table.

  I did laugh though. While I was chatting to Bosworth, one of his men walked by pushing a barrow load of bricks. When he saw me he tipped his cap and overbalanced. Bricks everywhere... Bosworth didn't seem to see the funny side and didn't appreciate the courtesy his man had shown. Some people have no sense of humour.

  Mrs Tinkle in the corner shop was odd today too. I bought some peppermints and went to put my change in the charity box. It was whipped away from under my hand and replaced with another. "Not in that box, Your Honour", she said as the boxes changed. "This is the one Her Ladyship supports". Beggar me, you'd think I had no mind of my own I thought, swiftly putting my change in the new box.

  I wandered back home again as lunchtime was approaching. I was expecting Lady Julia back by then and I knew she'd arranged for some soup to be ready. I also knew that her sister was due the next day with her husband and that things must be in their places before their arrival. I was greeted by pandemonium in the shape of Lady Julia in her riding gear descending upon me at speed. "He's gone", she cried, "you must have left the door open!”. At which point I had visions of someone nipping in and kidnapping her doddery old papa while I was out. Instead I just responded "Slow down, dearheart, who's gone?".

  "The bird has", she said, and I swear I heard her add "Silly old fool". Now Joey is my territory. The little rogue has been with us for years and a more entertaining budgie you won't find. Nor a richer one probably as he usually steals and hides my loose change and anything shiny he can hold in his beak. Even today no one has been able to find his hoard. Probably intends to retire to the sun one day. Anyway, I digress.

  Panic stricken to lose my only ally, I dashed into the house so fast the rubber tips on my crutches started to smoke.

  I went into the drawing room where Joey usually holds court and started calling him. At first there was no answer and I had visions of spending my afternoon shouting up at all the trees in the village. Then I heard a strange grating sound that seemed to echo round the room. Unable to recognise either the sound or the source, I started looking round the room until eventually I narrowed the sound down to an old copper swan-necked jug on the piano. There the little blighter was, right at the bottom, crooning to himself and enjoying the echo. Gently I laid the jug on its side so he could get out. Out he waddled drawing blood from my hand affectionately as he went by.

  All was calm again.

  At 2.00pm after lunch Lady Julia decided a trip into town for essentials was
necessary. I agreed to go along on the understanding that a ping pong ball was added to the list to block the neck of the vase to prevent a repeat of the morning. She agreed adding I shouldn't have let him get in in the first place. Somehow I knew it would end up being my fault.

  We got the ball from the pet shop while Lady J also picked up some other 'essentials' like hoof oil. Thereafter we went to the butcher, the baker and the… greengrocer. Had you wondering there for a minute, dear reader, didn't I?

  The shopkeepers kindly sent their boys along to carry the bags to the car and we set off home. Part way down the hill Julia swerved to avoid a loose pheasant, and then swerved again to avoid the oncoming traffic which was hooting and honking at her. She seemed so oblivious to the havoc she was causing that I hadn't the heart to tell her that the bird she had missed had flown straight into a wall only to be picked up by the car behind us for supper.

  I eased my fingers from the dashboard leaving little grooves behind and massaged some life back into them. Gradually my heart also slowed down.

  As we approached home there was a hint of something in the air and it seemed to be getting stronger. As we arrived it seemed her manoeuvres had moved a bag and spilled the hoof oil and the car was becoming more pungent by the minute as it had spread out over the floor of the boot, and, as it was in an upper bag, had also spread out across the “essentials”. They all looked brown and sticky.

  I gathered the bags to take them to the bin expecting the wrath of my wife to descend upon me. To my surprise it didn't and we went in and had a nice cup of tea.

  The evening was peaceful thankfully as the following day’s visit may well be a nightmare for which I should have to gird my loins.

  By the by, Joey's ball survived the hoof oil and he's currently rolling it about the floor having decided that it can't stay in the jug if he wants it elsewhere. Who am I to argue?

  Tuesday, July 20

  The Day of the Visit

  I knew in advance that today would be difficult. I just wasn't aware how bad this particular one would be.

  I heard the car pull up at about 10.00am. A veil of despair descended in front of me that you could have cut with a knife. Mind you, if I'd had a knife handy I would probably have cut my throat.

  I'd better explain. Baron Caslav and his wife Mumu had arrived. Mumu is my wife's sister. I adore them both and so does my wife though you wouldn't know it. The two of them only have to set eyes (or voices) on each other and you can see them starting to circle, looking for the weak points, looking for a way to land an attack like the gladiators of old in the arena. John, the baron, and I generally talk between ourselves trying to ignore the hissing between our respective spouses. It's not dislike they feel but an air of competition that must have started as they both ran for the same toy in the nursery. All the comments you hear sound so wonderful and civilised but both John and I can feel the temperature drop with each one. I've been tempted in the past to suggest ice skating but since the hair has grown back I won't repeat that mistake.

  I could hear Mumu saying "Juju Dahling, what divine LITTLE diamonds in your new ring", to which my beloved wife responded "Thank you deah, they are of FIRST quality. How are the new earrings John bought you?"

  John and I sat back in our chairs hoping not to catch a passing spear and to be ignored and not called on to referee.

  John is an amiable chap and a dear friend. I'd hate our wives to part us. We have a lot in common apart from our wives like our fondness for antiques.

  "John", I said, "come and give me your opinion on the new art deco figures I bought last week".

  "Lovely, old chap, great idea, I mean of course I will. Back in a few minutes Mumu, David needs me", he said to an uninterested back, and ran after me as I'd had the sense to depart without a word.

  In all fairness to me, I really had bought a pair of figures and did appreciate John's input. But with sighs of relief we relaxed in my office and turned on e.bay. John was a newcomer to the computer but after 3 months I felt like a veteran even though it took me ages to find the way to sign on and then locate the e.bay pages.

  We had a scoot round a few things and put bids on a few things without holding out too much hope. I've tried to explain to John that a bid of £4.50 is not likely to win him a signed art nouveau piece. It's just that he likes a bargain and that's about all Mumu lets him carry in cash.

  After about an hour or so we detected a thaw in the temperature. It was just that they'd stopped speaking to each other rather than they'd decided to be nice.

  In the hope of redeeming the day I suggested lunch out and a visit to the annual fête in a village not too far away. This straw was grasped by everyone - John because he was on a diet and always hungry, Mumu because she shares his diet and was desperate for a pudding which she couldn’t eat at home in case he jumped her and stole it, and finally Ju, who knew that if we went to the fête she'd see the horses in the competition.

  This particular village only has the one pub that does food, The Anaemic Weasel. We found a seat which wasn't too difficult as most of the locals already knew what was on the menu and ordered our drinks. "Evrythin's orf bar the special of the day maisters", announced our waiter/ potboy/ chef probably. "And what's today's special?”, I asked innocently.

  "Stuffed pheasant, maister", he responded.

  "Fine", said I, "Four portions please, one without potatoes". I did that out of compassion for John's diet.

  The drinks arrived and we set to talking pleasantly and wondering why the bar was so empty. The weather wasn’t great so we had expected more people to take shelter in there.

  The meal arrived and the reason for the lack of business became more apparent. The bird still bore the imprint of the wall it had flown into yesterday trying to evade Lady Julia's driving. At least I knew who'd been in the car behind now. I was tempted to ask for a discount for being with the supplier.

  However, we ate lunch after the usual swapsies. Julia got my veg and I her potatoes. After all, I had my diet to think of and couldn't eat the veg as well. My doctor would not be pleased. Mumu and Juju had puddings while John and I showed our restraint and just had coffee with chocolates.

  After lunch the sun had crept past a cloud quietly and unnoticed so a few weak beams shone down. We left the car where it was and ambled over to the field next to the cemetery where this year’s fête was being held. The M and the J decided to walk over to see the horses and John and I said we would venture round the stalls.

  We were passing one stall when John pointed out a case for a shotgun. He obviously liked it and so I ventured to ask the price. A woman with a face like stone said "fifty". I turned to John and said, "Well John, is it worth £50? If so I'll get it for your birthday".

  "It's very nice", he said, "but close to its money. I don't want you spending that much on me".

  "Not a problem", says I, "it will save me wondering what to get you", and so saying I proffered a fifty pound note to Old Stonyface, wondering if I could have bargained and got it for less.

  "Oi, she said, ain't you got no less? I don't think I've got forty nine pounds fifty pee in change yet! (Bloody nobs)". I promptly paid up and scuttled leaving a smirking Baron John to follow on.

  The afternoon wore on and we met the girls in the refreshment tent for tea and scones. The air seemed quite light and we discovered that the M and the J had separated early to look at different things. We inwardly vowed to remember to separate them in the future. However the daggers were beginning to be drawn and we hastily withdrew. The girls would look at the last horse competition together and John and I would look at the stalls we hadn't yet seen.

  And there it was… on a stall in front of me. A Royal Dux figure almost, I thought, a match for one I had at home. If this was the partner... well, yes I know I'd have a PAIR, but it would increase the value fivefold, to about £200.00. Knees shaking and breath coming in gasps, I staggered the last few feet to the stall just as someone else picked it up. "Oh no", I said.

&nbs
p; The woman who held it was asking the price, the stall holder said, "Ten pounds". "I'll give you twenty", I cried, falling to my knees in the mud with just my eyes at table level.

  "Go away and play little boy", he said, and I realised he meant me and pulled myself up to my full height. That seemed to make the woman nervous and she backed away.

  "Done", said the stallholder. You don't know how much you have been, I thought to myself as I pulled out my last £20 note and paid. He wrapped it carefully and put it in a supermarket carrier bag for me.

  At this point there was a scream and John and I ran in the direction it came from. There was Juju pointing in horror towards Mumu and I thought she was about to attack. She ran, and I ran to intercept, thinking I'd save Mumu from her fate. I brought Mumu down with a rugby tackle as Juju ran past and leapt the wall of the cemetery where a stray horse was rubbing himself against tombstones and knocking them over.

  With apologies to Mumu, I helped her up and dodged the daggers her eyes were sending. I grabbed Ju by the hand and pulled her back over the wall. “Let's go", I said, "before someone thinks it's your horse and starts asking questions".

  The journey home wasn't too bad and I told Mumu I had jumped to save her being stung by a huge bee about to land on her. I think she believed me. John with his new gun case was not about to tell on me. We had a nice cuppa together and they left.

  In the latter excitement I'd forgotten the bag in the car with my find. I picked it up and brought it in and gently unwrapped it. "Look", I cried, "a partner for my other one, what a find!”

  "Other one", said Lady Julia, "you old fool, it's the same one I gave away when they collected jumble for the sale last week"…

  Wednesday, July 21, 2010

  Ysabel's Shopping Expedition

  At 7.00 am I woke Lady Julia as usual, my arms straining under the weight of her coffee. I then retreated to the sanctuary of my office to assure people that I could survive quite well without the services of a Thai maid/girlfriend, and that I didn't want to join a club for swingers. The notion that I could join was faintly ridiculous as I'm not at all keen on dancing. What I did wonder about was their insistence that if I wanted to join I must be sure to bring my car keys. Why on earth would a dancing club need to know what I drive? Oh well, perhaps they have drink too and want you to take a taxi home. I'd just begun to daydream when my wife interrupted the Thai massage in my head.