Search This Blog

Sunday, 20 October 2013

Darby and Joan Part 2

So we are down to one car and one driver. Tiff's alternator has broken so a tow truck is on the way. Tiff's hangover is so bad she has to give up after one sip of coffee and switch to tea and we all opt for the mega breakfast with eggs, bacon and lashings of toast and marmalade.

The removal men are due at 9 and Tiff and Ali are still squabbling about who is most annoying in the morning - Ali for waking up early or Tiff for pretending to be asleep when she was obviously not and Ali wanted to chat  This conversation is taking place at the breakfast table at 8.45 am. Mild nauseous panic rising in my throat, I set off to pay bills, pack and get my bags carried down to the car.



Eventually we are loaded up with a plan. Tiff and I will stay at the house, whilst Ali braves the wilds of Pakefield to find a cheap mobile phone for Julian's DofE expedition. She is also in charge of buying some milk. The girls come in and shriek at the house. It is perfect. My enjoyment of their shrieking is somewhat tempered by HWISO and Georgie on the phone having a crisis.

Ali sets off and Tiff and I stare at each other in an empty house. Her hangover is monstrous. I take pity and hand out pills. The removal men arrive.  The plan was to put a sofa on last so it would be first off, so I could lie resplendently and vaguely hand wave.  Best laid plans and all that. The sofa was about a third of the way back and Steptoe & Son were in no particular hurry to rush this job.  Lots of blanket folding and fiddling with the ramp.  Tiff and I smiled and explained there was no milk but we would go and get some.

By the time Ali arrived back from a totally bewildering and fruitless trip round Lowestoft in search of a mobile phone, we were still sofa less but all the tools had been unpacked into the garage and all the blankets had been re folded to the other side of the van. Ali raided the paracetamol, had a cup of tea, snapped on a frightening pair of black rubber gloves (think All Creatures Great and Small) and went all "lickety split" on the men. There followed a frenetic half hour of unloading, questions and unpacking.

I think it was those gloves.  Either that or the snap when she put them on. Whatever it was, she obviously put them in mind of the James Bond woman with those knives in her shoes.

Even Tiff's hangover cowed before those gloves.

More to follow .......

No comments:

Post a comment