Jogging Along

by James Birk

Chapter 6

  ‘Yeah, so it’s like reeeeeeally important that we get help to them, like immediately.’ said the girl with impossibly green eyes and the energy of Walt Disney’s interpretation of A.A. Milne’s Tigger.

  ‘Yes, I can see that,’ I agreed, my trying to avert my gaze from her bouncing cleavage, and back to the afore-mentioned eyes.

  ‘So,’ she cocked her head to one side, ‘would you like to help?’

  ‘Err, yeah, sure why not?’ I said, my eyes returning to her chest as I felt around in my pocket for some change, ‘I’m afraid I don’t have much cash on me but...’

  ‘Oh I can’t accept cash,’ she said.

  ‘I’m sorry; I thought you were trying to raise money.’ I replied, feigning confusion, ‘Was it just an awareness campaign?’

  ‘Oh no, we are trying to raise money, but I can’t accept cash,’ she said, ‘What we’d really like at Poveraid, is for you to commit to a monthly sum of just five pounds a month. You’ve no idea how much difference that would make.’

  Her eyelashes fluttered and I was nearly powerless to resist, but I owed it to myself to try, after all it was purely bad luck that I’d found myself talking to this gorgeous but nonetheless slightly grating charity mugger. I normally made it my business to circumnavigate all the various people touting for business on Queen Street, but I had been caught off guard trying to avoid the grim faced religious fanatic who was trying to convince the Saturday shoppers to repent their sins, when all they really cared about was getting to the Marks & Spencer sale in time to snap up the remaining bargains. He was moving around in such an erratic fashion that it had been hard to select the correct angle to walk past him in a way that meant I could elude him without making it obvious that I was trying to avoid him. Consequently I didn’t see the young girl in the bright yellow t-shirt carrying a clipboard until it was too late. Thus it was that I had been locked in a conversation with this deadly bundle of effervescent enthusiasm for ten minutes talking about the plight of an African nation that, to be frank, I’d never even heard of.

  ‘Well I’d really like to help,’ I squinted at her name badge, ‘Candy, but I’m afraid I don’t really have the time to fill out a form right now, but if you could direct me to a website I’d be delighted....’

  ‘Oh come on!’ bounced Candy, ‘It won’t take long, where are you rushing off to?’

  ‘Well, it’s my mum’s birthday tomorrow, and I’ve got to buy her a present, and well the shops will be shutting in’ I glanced pathetically at my watch, ‘five hours, so you know, I’d better get a move on.’

  But Candy was having none of it, and she threw more of her effervescent enthusiasm and sex appeal at me, so in the end I relented and filled in a direct debit mandate for a regular monthly donation that may have been modest but was still more than I could really afford on my wages. I reasoned that I could always cancel it later by phoning my bank. I didn’t hugely have a problem with giving money to Poveraid, which seemed like a worthy enough organisation, but I would have preferred to have decided to do so on my terms rather than being accosted in the street, even by such an attractive chugger as Candy.

  I walked away in a slight daze and almost straight away I was accosted by another yellow t-shirt, a bloke this time, which to be honest seemed rather optimistic on his part, as he was somewhat bereft of Candy’s charms and was never really going to make the same impact. Besides, I was able to look him squarely in the eye and say, ‘I already give money to your organisation mate.’

  He gave me the double thumbs up and I was on my way.

  I really did need to buy my mother a birthday present and I was fairly stressed about the whole process. My mother , being my mother, was of course delighted by anything I got her because she loved me dearly, but really, in the last few years I had been some way off the mark with my efforts and my mother had been the unfortunate recipient of a cardigan that was three sizes too big for her, a bottle of inexpensive sherry (a drink that apparently my mother had never enjoyed in her life) a book of knitting patterns (I shortly discovered afterwards that she detested knitting and it was in fact my grandmother that had kept me so well kitted out in jumpers and cardigans as an infant) and for her last birthday I had surpassed myself by getting her tickets to a Cardiff Blues rugby match, which my father had been delighted with, but my mother had been a little nonplussed. In my defence, I had made the purchase based on a comment that she had made during the previous six nations that she would love to see a game. Apparently she had meant that she would like to go to an international match to experience the big occasion, and had virtually no interest in regional rugby whatsoever.

  This year I had been all set to get her Rod Stewart’s greatest Hits on CD until my sister pointed out that although my mother was indeed a huge Rod Stewart fan, she already had his greatest hits available to her, as she had already owned all of his albums. Fortunately that same sister had intervened this year and given me a list of suitable presents. The main problem I had was in understanding the list. I didn’t really know what any of the things on it were, or where I should go about getting them.

  I consulted the list for the third time that day, searching in vain for something that I would know how to buy. Hair straighteners and a hair dryer were, I suppose, objects that I did recognise, but having already done a pre-emptive search online, I had discovered that the ranges in models and in price were just too extensive for me to even feel vaguely confident in going down that road. Plus my mother’s hair was already straight so what did she need straighteners for? The rest of the list was just as opaque to my untrained eyes. Essentially my sister had written me a list that only other girls could understand. I looked at the list again. The only other item on there that I could find that meant anything to me was a handbag. It wasn’t prefaced by a designer name so how could I possibly go wrong with a handbag?

  I headed to the nearest department store and began rifling through the ‘sale’ items, reasoning that if I could find one that was half price I could get her one that was twice as valuable, although the notion of actually spending half the money was an attractive proposition at the back of my mind too.

  Alas there was nothing that seemed suitable there, so I was forced to look at the non-sale items and I was alarmed at just how expensive handbags were. I suppose, not really ever having purchased one for myself, I had no idea of the sort of money involved but it seemed an awful lot for something that I didn’t truly understand the purpose of. Some of them were so small that they can’t really have served any useful function whatsoever, yet there they were with their three figure price tags gloating at my inability to afford them. This was going to be a long day.

  ‘Alright mate!’

  I looked up in surprise nearly dropping the pink leather handbag I was inspecting to see Matthew Goodwin looking at me with an expression of delight on his face.

  ‘Alright Matt,’ I said, ‘long time no see, how are you?’

  I hadn’t seen Matt since we used to walk to school together over eleven years ago. He had always been a bit of drip back then, an ideal person to hang around with to make myself seem a bit cooler. He looked pretty different now though, gone was the lank, greasy, badly cut hair, to be replaced by a much neater, and more stylish, short and spiky look. His tracksuit bottoms and oversized football tops had been replaced by a designer polo shirt and trendy jeans. He seemed to have filled out a bit too, whereas once he had been the only kid to get picked after me during games lessons, he was now broad and muscular and he had an air of confidence about him that simply wasn’t there in school. In short he looked a lot better than I did.

  ‘I can’t believe this,’ he said walking over and grabbing my hand in a tight grip that demonstrated the strength he appeared to have acquired over the last decade, ‘what are you up to these days.’

  ‘Well, you know, work mostly,’ I replied in the absence of anything interesting to say.

  ‘I know what you mean,’ he said knowingly, ‘between the job, the tae
kwondo and the sprogs I’m knackered; there really isn’t time for anything else is there?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said slowly, ‘you’ve got kids?’

  ‘Yeah, two of the little buggers,’ he laughed, ‘God they run rings around me, but you know, all part of being a grownup I suppose...’

  ‘Err, yeah,’ I said with some level of uncertainty, ‘I mean I don’t have any myself, but yeah, I suppose it must be tiring!’

  ‘Too right,’ he rolled his eyes, ‘I mean Sarah does most of the work really, bless her, I just roll in from work and get to play games with them. Oh speak of the devil...’

  Matt was joined by the most stunningly beautiful woman I had ever seen. She kissed him on the cheek and looked enquiringly at me.

  ‘Were you ears burning darling,’ chuckled Matt, ‘I was just talking about you!’

  ‘Really?’ asked Sarah eyeing me with curiosity.

  ‘Yeah, this is my old mate Chris. We used to walk to school together back in the day.’ Matt looked at me shaking his head, ‘God mate, you haven’t changed a bit.’

  ‘You have,’ I said.

  ‘Yeah, who’d have thought I’d end up with a stunner like Sarah!’ he winked.

  ‘So what do you do Chris?’ asked Sarah.

  ‘Well, I work in financial services at the moment,’ I replied, ‘but I’m thinking of going into teaching in the near future.’

  No I wasn’t! I had no intention of going into teaching. Why did I say that?

  ‘Financial Services eh?’ Matt whistled, ‘blimey, I always knew you’d be a high flyer. But you’re going to give up the jet set life for teaching are you? Very noble. Couldn’t do it myself, but very noble of you.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I mean I’m not definitely going into teaching but I’m at a bit of a cross roads at the moment. I mean I could probably do well at FFS but...’

  ‘FFS!’ exclaimed Matt, ‘You work for FFS? Wow small world. My company’s just been doing some work for FFS, helping with the shift of operations to India. Yeah, no wonder you’re thinking of getting out mate. Bit of a sinking ship that one.’

  This was news to me, and potentially alarming news at that. But of course he was wrong, we were only outsourcing to India. Our jobs were safe. Why would I been training new recruits if my own job wasn’t safe. No Matt must’ve got the wrong end of the stick.

  ‘Small world indeed,’ I replied, ‘So what company do you work for then?’

  ‘Oh, I’m Principal Analyst for J Darwin Management Consultants,’ said Matt, before adding, ‘so if you’re at FFS, you must know Greg Tanner? He’s a member of my golf club.’

  ‘Well it’s a big company, so not really.’ I said, but of course I had heard of Greg Tanner; he was Grant’s line manager and some way above me in the food chain.

  ‘So Chris,’ Sarah looked at me again in that enquiring, slightly disapproving now I thought of it, way, ‘where’s your girlfriend at the moment.’

  ‘I haven’t got a girlfriend,’ I said with a shrug.

  ‘Oh,’ Sarah looked uncertain as if this was something that had never happened in her social circle, ‘it’s just that as we’re in the handbag section, I assumed...’

  I looked down at the vivid pink handbag I was still holding onto tightly.

  ‘Ah right,’ I stammered, ‘yes I can see why you would think that. Actually I’m here buying a birthday present for my mother.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, we believe you,’ jibed Matt but Sarah looked relieved.

  ‘Oh how sweet,’ she said, ‘well I wouldn’t get her that one.’

  ‘Err, no, obviously not,’ I agreed, putting the bag down.

  ‘But there are some lovely Troppo Caro bags in the sale over there’ she pointed.

  ‘Great,’ I said hopefully.

  ‘Yeah they’re only six hundred pounds. Absolute bargain.’ she grinned, ‘I might get Matt to treat me to one.’

  ‘Listen mate, you’re better off single,’ laughed Matt putting an affectionate arm around Sarah, ‘well we’d better be off. Got to pick the kids up from my mum in an hour. Listen, I’m on Facebook, look me up and we’ll have to go for a beer or something.’

  ‘Yeah that’d be great,’ I lied as they headed off.

  Six hundred pounds! I’d only been planning to spend thirty. And that’s because I really loved my mum!