The Girl at the Till

After my divorce I was convinced I would stay on my own for the rest of my life. I didn’t have any confidence in relationships any more and I knew that people of my age were not attractive to women. That gave me a peaceful feeling. A man is considered to be a hunter, but for me the hunt was over. So my life consisted of working, sleeping and having meals with only music as company. These meals were often ready made and only needed to be heated in the micro wave. Feelings of loneliness were drowned in gallons of beer.

But suddenly I became aware that there had to be a sort of scent on me: available.

Buying a six pack of special beers lead to words of a woman behind me in the supermarket: “If you need help drinking that, I would love to help you out”. And she was not buying any beer herself.

There was a girl at the till who started little conversations about things I bought. Asked me to tell her how the taste of a sort of ready made meal was for me. Or what I thought about the new crisps. She was a slim girl with short brown curly hair. I always had been convinced my favourite type of women were the blondes. But this was not about attraction I told myself, she was just a nice person.

I got a bit addicted to this and I always tried to get to her counter if I had to go shopping. She would notice me and always gave me a little smile or a wink. Sometimes I would see her walking near the shop. Obviously she lived nearby. And she always greeted me at these times. After weeks, even months like this I started to look at her in a different manner. She was nice in a very common manner, not unattractive. But she was way too young for me. She looked like she was in her early twenties while I was in my early fifties. So I decided to let things be like they were. But I did notice on her badge that her name was Frances.

Some months later she completely disappeared; she never was at a till and I didn’t see her in the streets either. I completely forgot about her until I went to a party of friends.

One of their male friends I disliked a bit. He was only a few years younger than me. He would always talk about himself as being a very clever guy and always having the finest things. So he would show his new car or his new watch or very special clothes and whatever you could think of. In my mind I had given him the nickname Mister Lacoste.

He came in and had something new to show. His new wife was dressed like she was going to a gala and was wearing a necklace that must have been gold.

Even with her heavy make up I recognised Frances immediately. I could tell by the way she looked at me, that she knew exactly who I was too. Still we made no sign of recognition and became introduced to each other formally.

That night she never looked at me and I was really surprised that she changed such a lot because I could not help but observing her. Everything I could hear was about jewels and gold and expensive travels. Mister Lacoste made it very clear that the necklace was almost as expensive as his car. He left quite early with his young wife, told everybody they had a busy night ahead with a wink accompanied to this.

I saw him again at another party a long time after that. He was dressed a bit shabbily compared to his normal suits and was very loud mouthed. It looked like he had to show he was in anger. He was talking about a filthy little whore that divorced him and took half of his money. It appeared that they had been married without a marriage contract. This was also his last party with his friends; he was going to move to Florida the next week. His brother had the best car company of Florida and he was going to be a partner in this.

He was drinking heavily and my friends had to call a taxi to get him home when he became sick.

When I left the party I saw his expensive car in front of the house waiting in the rain.

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Tipsy

The three sisters were always very happy when their Grandfather came to stay with the family for a while. They were very fond of everything with fur their father would say. And they knew how to plead, so it was impossible for the father to deny the family a cat. He was pleased with this cat because it spent most of its time outdoors, even at night. So there was no more needed than some cat food to keep the animal happy.

The Grandfather would add some spice to the situation. Not only was he a very nice and happy person, but what made it even more fun was that he would take his little dog along. Grandfather really spoiled that dog, gave it a part of everything he ate and gave it a peaceful home. Grandfather was already 90 years old and took life as it came. He had a nice and easy life after long years of working hard. He had walked enough in his life, as he said and so walked the dog only once a day. He could tell a lot of stories from the good or bad old days and even the most horrible things sounded very funny when he told about them. So it was not so unexpected that he named the dog Tipsy.

Because of the good life Tipsy was quite fat. He was a little dog, impossible to say which breed, but he had really short legs and his belly would almost scrape on the floor when walking. Tipsy was not altogether happy in the house. The big cat would show up in unexpected places and made him jump up from fear. He would walk under a chair and the cat would tip him on the back and almost scare him to death. So Tipsy was always happy when the girls took him out for a walk. During the first walks he would get dog tired halfway so the girls had to carry him home. But he would get used to the routine and would even slim down a bit.

Grandfather often expressed his fondness for Tipsy. The dog was quite important to him, even while he had a big family that he saw frequently. He lived on the farm of his youngest son and had over there his own little apartment, even cooked his own dinner. But Grandfather was worried about what would become of Tipsy after he himself would be taken by the great Boss. You never knew when that time was due. After hearing this a few times the father promised Grandfather that he would take care of the dog and see to it that it would have a nice remainder for the rest of his life. That reassured Grandfather and made the three sisters very happy.

Half a year later Grandfather passed away in his sleep. Everybody in the family was sad, but they were happy that they all had been able to give Grandfather a nice old age. The girls asked the father when he was going to get Tipsy and bring him over. But the father told the children that Tipsy would be better off on the farm. Lots of room for him over there and he was used to the life over there. And they had to consider the cat too. The girls stopped asking because the father sounded very determined.

Weeks later the father made a telephone call to his younger brother. When he asked about Tipsy he was told that they had to bring Tipsy to the animal shelter. The busy life on the farm made it impossible for the brother and his wife to take care of the dog. After a few weeks in the shelter they decided to let him die, so he was given injections.

After hearing all this the three sisters gave the father a silent treatment for days. The name Tipsy was never mentioned again.

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Moonshine

An unforgettable party

The crisis in the western world in the thirties was felt by everybody, but in the cities it was the working class that got hit the most. One job per family was often not enough to get a proper meal every day. For the baker’s delivery man it meant that there was sufficient bread for all six members of the family, but often sandwiches “with love” were given to the children. Twice a week there would be some meat with their dinner, some bad weeks only once.

The delivery man was not happy with this situation; he wanted his loved ones to have the best there was in the world, but he was not even able to give them what they really needed.

On a nice Sunday he encountered a man while angling in the canal. The man was drinking a sort of brandy from a milk bottle. The man offered him a sip and it was not bad at all. Maybe the taste was a bit sharp, but the second sip was really nice. You had to get used to it. "He made this himself from methylated spirit", the man told the delivery man. He explained the process and what you needed to be able to do this. According to the man he sold some of his brandy to other people. Only problem was the police: you really needed to do things a bit hidden.

The delivery man bought distilling equipment the next week. It was not very hard to find what he needed. And the ingredients were very cheap. So soon it was his turn to sell some to neighbours and family. The extra income was very welcome; he made his wife very happy.When his next birthday was almost there, they decided to have a big party. The whole family and street was invited.

A lot of people knew how to make music with harmonicas and accordions. So soon half of the people were singing along with all these well known songs. The others were playing cards and gambled. They all really had a great time.

The party got disturbed by two uncles who got into a fight because of the cheating of one. The others just grabbed them both and threw them on the street. Cursing and shouting they went home, promising they would never return to this godforsaken house.

The situation became more serious when one of the cousins got into a delirium. Foaming and shaking he lay on the floor. The others were afraid of losing him forever. A doctor was needed, that was clear. What to do?

They decided to bring him home on the carrier tricycle of the delivery man. His home was at the other side of the city. They hid him under a blanket and he was brought home where neighbours got a doctor for him.

In the meantime the party broke up. The delivery man decided to take some safety measures and brought his distilling equipment away. He didn’t even tell his wife where he was hiding it.

Within a few days a big police force came to the house of the unlucky cousin and searched the house. They were looking for the distillery. Somehow they must have got word about the delirium of the cousin.

After not finding anything they searched every house in the surrounding streets. Pamphlets were hung asking for tips of the people about the whereabouts of the distillery and there was an announcement on it what sentences illegal distillers could get.

When everything seemed to be forgotten the delivery man tried to find his equipment again. It was gone. So he came home empty handed.

The wife pleaded him not to buy new equipment. She could see herself raising the four children on her own while he would spend his days behind bars. He agreed not to start distilling again.

The party became legendary in the family; it was never surpassed.

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The Handyman

For some years we lived next door to our grand parents. This had some advantages. A babysit was always near and where possible parents and grandparents helped each other. One thing was excluded from this: my grandfather was not welcome to help my parents out as a handyman.

He himself was convinced of his capabilities, the rest of the family had their doubts. He was an expert in taking things apart, but assembling was a complete different matter. Most of the times this would be innocent, but everybody in the family remembered the moment when Grandma tried the repaired vacuum cleaner. She almost got electrocuted. So everything that worked on electricity was forbidden territory for him to go near with a screw driver.

I must have been 6 years old when Grandpa was asked to keep an eye on me while he was starting up a new hobby. He was going to breed pigeons and so a sort of wooden building had to be erected behind the house of my grandparents. While he was hammering the nails in the planks and the thing really got shape, I stood there in great admiration. The weather was nice and he worked fast and yet precisely.

“What do you think?”, he said, looking through a sort of window that the pigeons were going to use as their door. I answered that it really looked nice, the pigeons would feel very at home in this building. He explained to me what the use of the different levels was going to be and that he had this ingenious system for their shit and how he was going to keep this clean. I was truly amazed!

One thing puzzled me and I fell silent. Grandfather noticed this and asked me if anything was wrong with me. If I needed to go the toilet, I should do so.

I shook my head, hardly dared to ask this question. Maybe I was just very stupid.

Yet, I did ask him: “How can you get out of this yourself Grandpa?”

For a few seconds he was silent and then his roaring laughter made me laugh along.

He stopped laughing and said: “I can’t!” And we both went along laughing.

Now the work was done in reverse, everything was taken apart again. After that was done, he told me we would go the park and have an ice cream. “Tomorrow is another day! I’ll finish the work then.”

Hand in hand we walked out of the street. After a while he squeezed my hand a bit: “Please don’t tell Grandma.” I nodded and was already thinking about which flavor I would choose.

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Tragedy in Tavira

At the backside of our hotel in Tavira in Portugal is a small business area with real estate agents, a restaurant and a driving instructor. Behind that there is a tidy neighborhood of white apartment buildings. Everything looks quite new and clean, yet one can sense there must be poverty. In other European countries you can expect a satellite receiver on every balcony, but over here there is only a great variety in drying laundry to be seen.

When you walk on there is a school and a playing area next to it. This also looks very clean and tidy; there is not even the normal garbage you can see in other cities in Europe. Our goal is a bar a little further, not the one on the corner you see first in which the interior looks like an abattoir with all these white tiles that covers it completely in the inside. The one we like, has made an extension of wooden poles and plastic. The furniture consists of very simple kitchen chairs and plastic tables.

Nobody over here speaks any English but it doesn’t matter. We are able to order our drinks any way and we get the local delicacy with it: yellow salted beans. We love bars and restaurants like these because no tourist will ever go over here. It’s so nice to see the people live their normal life and have their normal talks. You do have to get used to the shouting and outcry. The people always seem to be in the middle of a big quarrel.

This evening we see a very cozy scene. There is a big family with a very young couple. The boy and girl can’t be older than 13 or 14 we think. Yet there is a baby and the girl doesn’t hesitate one second to unbutton her blouse to breastfeed the child. The family looks at the scene in complete serenity, almost quiet. We do think it would be better if there was less smoking, but it’s still very normal to smoke everywhere in Portugal.

When we sit outdoors the internet café a few days later, I point my wife at a couple of schoolgirls. They giggle and talk a lot and yes, that’s the young mother in the middle of the group. Our feeling was right about her age. We discuss the problems this double life must give to the girl. What a weird life she must lead!

A few days later we sit at the same spot enjoying our bica (a small coffee) when my wife notices the girl again. This time she is on her own shouting and probably cursing in her mobile phone. Tears run over her cheeks and she throws her school backpack on the floor. After a few paces she comes back and picks it up again and walks on.

We see her a few times walking by again, always on her own. No giggling with best friends around anymore, nothing but a sort of blank face she has and we notice the dark bags under her eyes.

We think there must be trouble in paradise and curious like we are, we decide to have a look at that bar again before we go back to England.

We get the same reception as before, people are always friendly to foreigners.

It’s not hard to recognize the family of the girl. They are all sitting together except for the young couple. The baby carriage is in another corner with the young girl next to it, drinking a Pepsi.

At a certain moment she takes the baby in her arms, unbuttons her blouse and starts feeding.

When I pass her to go to the toilet I notice that tears are dripping on the forehead of the baby.

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Where is the Sea

From the bar in the hotel in Dunoon, near Glasgow, we had a lovely view of the Clyde. It was a quiet evening and we enjoyed a pint of beer not saying a lot, just taking in what we saw: the Clyde and an amazing sunset. If you stretched your head a bit you could see the smokers in front of the hotel. They were quite loud compared to the quiet lot in the bar.

The door was opened and an elderly man kept it open while a little old lady struggled to pass it with her Zimmer frame. Because of the struggle they obviously wanted to get a seat as soon as possible and not to walk across the whole bar. Politely they asked us if they could share our table. Of course we had no problems with that.

They were a bit more talkative than we were at that moment. We got an explanation as to why she had to use the Zimmer frame and the reason she would be glad to get rid of it again. “I did miss her a lot when she was in hospital”, the old man said. “We have been a couple for six years now, so we are very used to each other’s company. We do have our own houses, but we are a couple.” My wife and I nodded that we understood. “I have a huge house”, he added to make it more logical.  “Yes, he has!” she agreed. He added more: “But I keep it very clean.” “Yes, he does!” she agreed again.

They were 92 and 91 and still fond of travelling, seeing different places and enjoying the scenery. “I wonder where the sea is”, he said. My wife pointed in the right direction. “Oh! I really expected the sea to be the other way.” He was silent for a little while.                                     

“I have something with the sea and the oceans. I joined the Royal Navy in 1935. In the second world war I was on ships that protected the convoys with goods for Russia. We would sail along till Iceland where the Americans took over from us.”

“I do wonder where the sea is from this point of view”, he wondered aloud. My wife pointed towards the direction again. It surprised him again, he really thought it was the other way. He told us he joined the navy when he was almost 15. It had not always been easy, but he would do it again if he could.

My wife asked him what his function was in the Navy. “I was a navigator”, he answered.        

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A Bet

It wasn't very busy in the back street local pub that Saturday afternoon. I realized that the football team Norwich City had a home match. This pub showed BBC which only had people talking about the matches that were on this afternoon. To see the match you would have to go to the stadium, watch it on Sky Sports (you pay for that) or go to a pub with a satellite disc so you can watch it on a Norwegian channel without sound but with a pint.

The pub played next to the television with talking heads another one with horse races on Channel Four. The volume was almost off, so it was not possible to hear anything but the blaring nineties music that came from the radio. Once in a while the volume of this TV was turned up when a race was on. Horses with jockeys on their backs had to run on a track with obstacles of hedges.  And the nearer they got to the finish the more the jockeys would slam their whips on the flanks of the horses.

The landlord of the pub asked a man at the bar when his race was on. "In ten minutes, let's have a pint with this." He took the remote control of the TV and his beer and sat at a table. He studied the schedule one more time and waited patiently. Finally it was on. He turned up the volume so much the radio was not audible anymore. The horses and jockeys were introduced first while they were led to the track by a person walking next to the horse.

A man with a sort of umbrella gave a sign and then they were off. The landlord and some other men joined the gambler at his table. The horse was doing quite well, was on the third or fourth spot constantly. Everything was possible. But then the horse fell when he landed after jumping over the fourth obstacle. The jockey rolled away from the horse, stood up and walked back. The fallen horse got to his feet and followed the other horses, but he skipped every obstacle.

The gambler turned down the volume, his mates walked away and the landlord went back behind the bar. A new customer came in, ordered a beer and walked to the unlucky man.
"How did the race go?" he asked.
"The bloody horse fell!" was the answer. He shook his head in disbelief, tore the schedule to pieces and ordered a new pint.