Monday 7th April.
It was strange to be working while all the rest of the world
is off on vacation. Still, I did volunteer to work these days so that I could
have the time of in lieu later in the year for our Arran trip next Saturday and
then our visit to my Big Sister this summer. XXX & Y are closed for the
Easter week so that is one and a half less days I am working for, if that makes
sense.
I thought the University end of the city seemed so much
quieter as Laura drove me through to the office, I am getting a lift back every
evening this week, but Loll wanted to drive me into work herself, which I
really appreciate.
Work itself was pretty quiet, especially as Mrs B has hidden
my presence from the other staff until my normal working days, so I don’t get
swamped with requests for searches. In this quiet time I am continuing the
digitising of the files but using an empty office with a dedicated copier
purloined from somewhere in the building. It is about three to four times the
size of my little broom cupboard at the University, I could even meet my Tutees
in a room this size and not have to go scrabbling about to find an unused
space! I moved my radio in to the room and have been having a Radio Three-athon
in here today.
This week’s composer; Chopin and Field proved fascinating. I
am definitely going to be looking for the Field piano concertos. The bits that
have been played sounded marvellous.
My lift home, courtesy of Mick Wragg has been useful. He is
one of the solicitors who specialises in Conveyancing and he lives out towards
the Flouch Inn so he kindly volunteered to drop me off at the bottom of my hill
as he drives right past it twice a day. When he saw how steep the hill itself
was he offered to drive right up and turn back round. I explained that if he
drove straight on afterwards and followed the road he would come out in
Wharncliffe Side about three quarters of a mile further on the Old Manchester
Road, without the need to turn round. He said he would try it. I hope he didn’t
get lost. I will find out tomorrow if he found his way.
Laura had our meal all ready and waiting for me when I got
in. I just love it when she does this. I hope she feels the same when I do her
meals. It is sensible and pragmatic but I like to think it is also a little act
of love too. Perhaps I am being a stupid romantic. [You can’t be an old cynic
all the time.]
Once again my treasure was working at the restaurant and I
managed to get some serious work done on one of the palimpsests from Uni. We
have bought a really bright but low UV light and it really does make the words
stand out on the photocopied page. The snag, as always, before we can begin to
translate them is to decide what they actually are! I find that the act of copying
them onto proper tracing paper gives me a feel for what the word might have
been even when the calligraphy just looks like a squiggle. I think it is the
act of following the shape of the letters which helps form an idea in my head
of exactly what the hand was writing all those years ago. It was an idea which
Felice had and I find it works pretty well for me too.
The only snag with this method is the fact it really makes
my eyes hurt. I can’t do too much at once or it gives me a headache! It is a
good job we have another two and a bit years to go on our cache of documents or
we might never get done at all.
Laura came with me dog walking and we rescued more newts;
three, to be precise, and another frog. Callie is remembering how to spot and
point really well, I know I praised her efforts before but she is just
brilliant now.
Tuesday 8th April.
Swimming again as usual and Sarah asked me, on the quiet, if
our friend from Saturday was gay too. I mean, what a question to ask. I told
her I didn’t know but I didn’t think so. You don’t enquire about someone else’s
sexuality really, do you? I hope I didn’t show how shocked I was by the
question. I wouldn’t want her to think she had committed a huge faux pas, even
though she has!
When I got to work I told Mrs B about our friend’s question
and she was just as shocked as I was. I am glad it wasn’t just me being a silly
old cow again. Our subterfuge lasted the whole day again today.
I kept working all through the day in the purloined office
with only one interruption, Mick, telling me that the road through Hill Top did
lead down to where I had said it would. Did he honestly think I would send him
off into the wilds of the south Pennines with my directions? He was surprised
by how pretty Hill Top was and to discover there was actually a park along the
road too. He never usually has any cause to vary his route and so all of this
had passed him by.
Glen Howe Park is an absolute gem. I discovered it myself by
accident by looking at the OS map I had bought of the area when I acquired my
little house and went for an exploration. In fact I made several expeditions
about and around the village to see what was there. I walked some of lanes and
footpaths and drove almost every road for a considerable radius from my house
which is how I discovered a wealth of places like Glen Howe. There is Hill Top
Wood; Coumes Brook; Loxley Edge; Rocher Edge; High and Low Bradfield; The Motte
and Bailey Castle, Grenoside Woods; The Convent – in fact masses of places I
would never have known about, too, if I had just gone to and fro to XXX & Y
as part of my daily commute.
When I mentioned some of these place to my elder neighbour
Muriel she was surprised that I knew about them so I had to explain how I liked
to know all about where I lived, I pretended it was an excuse to find local
walks for Callie but it I just the way I am really.
When we go to Whiting Bay, on Arran, I know masses of local
walks and attractions in the area of our caravan even though I have only been
to Whiting Bay itself three or four times before. I have walked every footpath
in the area and driven along every road in the area, just so I know what is
there. I suppose it is part of my inquisitive nature.
Mick is going to take his wife and kids for an exploration
of the park this coming weekend now that he knows that it is there. Which I
think is a better kind of payment than anything monetary I could have given
him.
I met Mr Carr (call me Tim) as I was getting ready to leave
with Michael. He gave me a really strange look. I bet I will get a visit from
on high tomorrow to find out what is going on. There are times when my boss and
my Dad are so alike. I guess it is because they went through school and
university together. Their minds think in the same way. OK, I will come clean; they are like a pair
of old gossipy housewives! Dad always has been and I couldn’t believe exactly
how much Mr Carr was too! There were moments in my interview with him, in 2010,
when it could have been my Dad sat behind the partners’ desk in his office
asking me all these serious and trivial questions. I had met him before but
only as a child and sulky teenager; seeing him with “adult” eyes was a
revelation.
I have just looked back at this and realise I am as culpable
as those two old cronies of gossiping away like an old housewife! Guilty as
charged. Although I will deny it to my dying breath.
I decided not to risk anymore eye strain tonight and played
a lot of Mendelssohn while Laura was out at the restaurant. He is growing more
and more into being my favourite instead of Beethoven. The more I listen to the
symphonies (Laura’s pressie) the more I discover new depths and emotions in
there. I may have to buy myself a plaster bust of him to go with my Beethoven,
Mozart and Bach ones. I do have one of Shakespeare too. My absolute ambition is
to somehow get a genuine Roman Marble bust, but where the hell I would find one
for sale and how much it may cost I have no idea. Imagine owning a bust of one
of the Emperors? If I could have any one I would plump for Julius Caesar of
course, having read all his extant works, although I wouldn’t say no to a
Vespasian or even a Marcus Aurelius.
Laura asked what I had been doing when she got back in and I
told her: being unfaithful to my idols and thinking about busts. We had a
giggle at this and then I was faithful to a real living bust, somewhat smaller
than my own but a perfect representation of the ideal female form. IHMO
Wednesday 9th April.
Walked the dog round the circuit and then went swimming as
usual. Laura drove me into work again and then headed off into town to do some
retail therapy. I was getting a lift home again from Mr Wragg. I passed another
quiet day at work. I don’t think Mrs B has let on to anyone that I am actually
here so I had no requests for searches etc today and I was able to continue
digitising the files once more. It is a slow old process but everyone who uses
the files is so pleased they are now available on our works’ intranet.
I didn’t get a visit from our Head Honcho at all, I was
expecting him to pop along to “See how I was doing…” Once he realises I am here
tomorrow and Friday he may wander down. The fact he comes in to Archives and
chats to me a lot may have given rise to office gossip (You know, boss &
employee relationship / May & September couple – all that rubbish) because
it is about me I wouldn’t have heard it, though. I suppose less than half a
dozen people know about my connection to him through Dad. Perhaps that’s better
left unsaid too, I guess being accused of nepotism is worse than being accused
of bonking the boss! LOL
Michael Wragg and I shared the ride home again and I asked
him how well he knows the area around where he lives. He had to admit that he
was ignorant of most of it, just getting in his car and driving to places
rather than exploring properly. I know it is hardly scientific research but it
is interesting. I am going to ask other people at work tomorrow and Friday just
to see if I talking a load of dingo’s kidneys or if there is some truth in what
I claimed earlier.
Laura had dinner waiting again tonight and hardly had time
to sit and let hers settle before she was off and running to the restaurant
again! I was so looking forward to a snuggly cuddly on the sofa too. Instead I
had a go at ruining my eyes again with the palimpsest. It is looking very like
every day Latin rather than old French. I scanned what I had got so far and
e-mailed it to Felice. I received a “Not in the Office” notice from her addy,
which probably means she is gallivanting around France again.
Mum called to tell me she had got back safely from Gran’s (I
had forgotten she had gone to be honest) and did we want a meet and bite to eat
tomorrow or Friday? I opted for lunch on Friday in Broomhill, that way Laura
wouldn’t have to give up an evening’s work at the restaurant to come and join
us.
Thursday April 10th.
We skyped the rellies in Australia this morning to speak to
Jeffrey on his birthday. I try to do so for all of the clan out in Australia. I
spoke to Annabelle in March and Jill in December. I didn’t actually speak to
Jeff as he was out! Just goes to show, eh? Annabelle is counting down the days
until July when Laura and I will be touching down in the antipodes. I had a
major whinge directed at me for their school holidays being only two weeks long
while we were off for about 12 this summer! I have persuaded Suze to let me
borrow the camper again so we are going to take Laura on the tour we girls did
last year. That is assuming Jill still wants to go with her aged Aunt. She is
sixteen on her next birthday, going on thirty, and may have decided that she
wants to be with people her own age. I will be quite sad about this but hey,
what can you do?
Suze also said Pete is planning on running the boat out
while we are over so we could end up crewing for them. I haven’t mentioned this
to Laura as I think she may be a bit scared of being out in the wilds of the
Indian Ocean. They still have the mooring on Rotto so we could spend some time
out there if I can persuade him that we being in residence over a week would be
safe. I would have to promise on a whole stack of bibles, or something, that I
wouldn’t sail off into the blue with their vessel. Pete does know I am
competent enough to do so, still holding my RYA certificates from my teenage years.
The last time I was actually afloat was the Christmas I was in Australia with
the folks in 2012/13. So I could be a bit on the rusty side.
The timer on Skype said we had been chatting for 57 minutes!
Phew.
At work I was still ensconced in the office found for me,
doing the mass digitising again. As I expected, though, I was paid a visit by
Mr Carr. He came to see how I was doing on the whole digital project,
ostensibly. We ended up chatting about all sorts of stuff, completely unrelated
to the putting of files onto the computer. He was particularly interested in
our purchase on Arran. I explained how we had decided to buy a static caravan
instead of looking at a cottage for two reasons: we didn’t want to undermine
the local housing market which already seems to be swamped by second homers and,
secondly, the cost was too prohibitive for me. (Actually, I probably could have
gone halves in a cottage but it would have meant raiding my savings and I wasn’t
going to do that, I certainly wasn’t go to let Mr Carr know that I had enough
money in the bank to buy a cottage.)
He seemed to think that Mrs Briggs and I had become close
friends. I had to explain that we just ended up attending the same events because
our artistic tastes seemed to coincide a great deal. I think it would be quite
strange to have who is a senior management bod and someone who is hardly more
than a glorified intern as close friends. It does seems a bit unlikely. I would
like to call her a friend but I know that our friendship is only one created by
our work and that in our general social circle we would probably never meet.
He wittered on about his children, to which I paid little
attention and then he surprised me by saying he was pleased to hear about
little Sophie and even happier that my Dad was over the moon about her arrival
too. I should expect they would be talking to each other regularly but it still
has the capacity to surprise me when I get the proof. What he said next was a
real bolt from the blue, though; when Dad comes down to see ‘Yes’ at the City
Hall in May he isn’t going to be staying with me, he’ll be staying with Tim and
his wife! I was gobsmacked. I had simply assumed that Dad and Louisa would
decamp at Yours Truly’s, like he usually did. It turns out that Mr C and wife
are also going to the concert, hardly surprising in a way, and so they had
arranged the little stop over so they could catch up properly. [A phone call to
aged parent was placed immediately after Mr C left!]
He then got my temper to the boil by asking, as a parting
shot, “How’s your lovely little lesbian friend?” I had to say, “Fine” through
clenched teeth because I assumed calling one of the senior partners in the firm
“you ignorant, patronising fucking bastard” would probably have got me fired on
the spot, daughter of one of his oldest friends or not!
On the phone to Dad [who was at work for a change] I did
call his old school and University friend an ignorant, patronising fucking
bastard! Dad just laughed. I should have expected it. He was sorry for not
telling me about the “Yes arrangement” sooner and it wasn’t a reflection on his
opinion of me and Laura as hosts, more a reflection on how he was an IPFB as
well but I hadn’t noticed over the years because I was his daughter! How can
you be angry at someone who turns everything back on himself like that?
I mentioned Jeffrey’s birthday call and he went, “Oh
Bollocks!” down the phone. He’d forgotten. He also knows that there will be a
she-cat on the other end of a phone line when he does call to apologise for
missing his first grandson’s birthday. Suze and he don’t have the same easy
going relationship that he and I have. I guess that could be she knew about his
inability to keep it in his pants when she was a youngster and could see how he
was killing their marriage because of it. They do get on now, the distance
between them helps, but I don’t think she has ever forgiven him. Even though
they stayed with her over last Christmas I could feel the tension in Suze’s
voice when we Skyped each other at the time.
I had a lift home from Michael again tonight, the last one because
Laura is picking me up tomorrow as after lunch she and Mum are going shopping
together. Wow.
I told him all about my Dad and the concert and he was
stunned that I knew Mr Carr socially from way back. I had to make him promise
not to tell anyone, as I didn’t want it known around the place. He agreed. He
thought my family life sounded awfully complicated compared to his. I said I
wished mine was simple and straight-forward too. Very kindly he said, “I don’t
think simple and straight-forward would suit you. You have too much spirit to
live a humdrum life.” I think it was meant as a compliment.
I told him that people thought I was awkward and difficult
and complicated just for effect but I didn’t think I was. I just made choices
on what I thought would make me happy. It just happens that what makes me happy
doesn’t always follow what the general public would expect.
He said, it was the whole world that was out of step with me,
rather than the other way round. I had to agree.
Laura had tea waiting when I got in. She had fielded a phone
call from Dad, wanting to make absolutely sure I wasn’t upset about the Yes
thing. He obviously doesn’t know my working hours! To my chagrin she said she
thought he’d mentioned it when we were at the Runrig concert. Arrrggghhh! I
bloody hope he didn’t. He’ll think I’m a total head case.
I risked eye damage tonight on another palimpsest and then
read some more of my new author; Kate Atkinson. I am loving her style.
We had another long and loving wind down when the Lollster
got back from the restaurant. My lovely little lesbian friend was just fine!
No comments:
Post a Comment