Stranger in Paradise

by stan graham

  They promised to deliver my new Microwave on Tuesday and I waited in all day and nobody came. About 6pm someone pushed a card through the door saying they had tried to deliver but had got no answer. I was livid, I knew full well that nobody had called as I had been in all day. The next morning I phoned Argos but they said they had followed my instructions to the letter.

  I phoned the number on the card to complain and the person on the phone said that their driver had not been able to get into the block. Well of course they hadn’t we have a security lock on the door and you have to press the secret number. Of course it isn’t really secret, the postman and the paper boy all know it and it’s the same number for every block.

  When I ordered the Microwave I told the clerk about this and he made a note on the order form that the delivery agent would need to phone and I would go down and let him in. I explained all this to the phone person and they said that their drivers did not have mobile phones supplied. Have you ever heard the like in this day and age? They promised to get it to me the next day, Wednesday so I offered them the code to open the door but they refused to accept it. I suppose this means another fiasco like yesterday. Well I kept a look out but didn’t see anybody but at about 1pm the bell to my flat rang and there was the deliveryman.

  “How did you get in?” I asked.

  “The lady downstairs let me in,” he replied.

  Why he couldn’t have done this yesterday I don’t know, anyway I agreed to accept it.

  It means that I don’t have a hob for cooking soup on but apparently you just put the soup in the oven and cook it there. I couldn’t wait to try it out so I asked him if he would mind waiting while I just tested it. I put a tin of soup in and was just about to turn it on when he stopped me. He said I could blow myself up.

  Apparently you cannot use metal things in the oven so what I am going to do with my pots and pans I don’t know. He showed me how to put the soup into a bowl and heat it that way. I gave him a tip of 20p for his trouble and he seemed quite surprised. I also offered him a cup of tea but he said no, he had to get on. He thanked me and left. Now I just have to get rid of my old cooker.

  I went down to the council offices to see if they would take my old cooker away. You don’t see the old scrap metal or rag and bone men nowadays, with their plastic bags of goldfish, that’s a trade that seems to have died out. The lady in the office agreed to arrange to dispose of it, she charged me £15 which I think is rather a lot of money, especially as they will sell it for scrap, I said that she should be paying me but she wouldn’t have it.

  The following Tuesday there was a knock on the door and a man came to take it away so that’s the end of that. I didn’t tip him and he didn’t give me a goldfish.

  I am getting the hang of the Microwave now, it’s a bit frightening to think that there are all these rays going through everything and cooking things. I suppose they are harmless because they wouldn’t be allowed to sell them if they were. Pippa told me that they can make you blind but I told her not to talk such rubbish. Although it does make you think don’t it. After all they reckon mobile phones can fry your brain don’t they? I do hope this isn’t going to give me Old-timers.

  When Jane phoned I told her what I had bought and asked her if she thought they were dangerous but she laughed at me and told me not to take any notice of these silly rumours, as she called them. Children, they think they know it all but I could tell her some tales. Do you know that I remember just after the war a local store being prosecuted for putting wooden pips into the strawberry jam to make it look more authentic.

  I think that it would be better if we just had only women living at Paradise Lodge. Send all the men away to live somewhere else. They only cause trouble with their disgusting habits. A lady never feels safe with them around.

  Some of the residents seem to be avoiding me. I heard one of them saying something about a sneak. Well if that's how they feel who cares. I know my rights.

  I decided to go along to a coffee morning, two months I've been here and this is the first one I have attended and everyone looked at me as if I shouldn't be there. They all stopped talking when I walked in, I nearly turned right round and walked out again. Then a really nice man came over and introduced himself as Jack Pope and handed me a cup of coffee before telling me not to let them get under my skin. His actual phrase being "Nil Bastardy Carborundum." I think I got the message.

  "Take no notice they are just a bunch of coffin dodgers my dear” was another turn of phrase he used. My, such colourful language but he has a good heart. He looks like he used to be a stevedore or something on the docks but apparently he was a clerk at the Coop. I told him that my Arthur had been a manager there and that my son also worked for them but not at the same branch as he did or I would have known him. We obviously have a lot in common both being Coop members. He is quite a nice man when you get to know him. About six feet tall and broad shouldered with big hands and curly grey red hair, a small goatee beard. Across his forehead was a single eyebrow which made me a bit dubious, after all doesn’t the Bard say ‘beware of the man whose eyebrows meet for in his heart there lies deceit’ at least so my mother told me. Otherwise he’s a bit like Marlon Brando in 'On the Waterfront.'

  Not that I take a lot of notice of a man's appearance I judge people as I find them. He may be a bit coarse but not in a smutty way.

  "I tell it like it is, I calls a spade a spade,” he said.

  A rough diamond my Arthur would have called him. Anyway once they saw that I was acceptable a few others came over and quietly told me they were glad I had taken a stand.

  "Such a horrible smelly habit," said a skinny timorous little thing who told me her name was Julia.

  "The smell permeates everywhere on ones clothes and in ones hair" said another, a big bellied woman with a moustache and slight beard who called herself Pamela, "And you are?" she bellowed.

  "Sorry Janice, I've just moved in."

  "Yes" chimed in a plump lady "and I am called Anne.

  I finished up feeling quite the heroine. The Mrs Thatcher of Paradise Lodge.

  That was how I first met the three ladies who I was to refer to myself as the Coven. Never to their faces you understand. I wouldn't like to upset them, besides I don’t think it would be safe.

  "Good to see you Mrs Bond. Getting to know some of our residents I see. Good, good. Mind you don't lead our newbie Mrs Bond astray ladies." He gave a sly wink and walked off.

  "Such a horrible man, I really detest him," shuddered Julia. "He makes my flesh crawl."

  I think he is a Scorpio. Julia is obviously a Virgo so you would have expected them to get on well together while Mr Pope can only be a Sagittarius or a Libra with his athletic looks and strong sense of fair play.

  "Woman hater that’s his problem, not like me, I love the ladies."

  "Yes we know only to well how you feel Jack Pope," said Pamela with a twinkle in her eye. I wonder if there is more going on between them than meets the eye.

  Julia whispered aside to Janice. "He's a very nice man really, all talk though. Pamela has a soft spot for him even if he is an atheist. He's a nine you know."

  "What’s a nine?"

  " Its Numerology, my dear. His flat is number 18 so if you add the numbers together it makes 9, very lucky number that, person who sticks up for the underdog, a good friend to have. Then if you substitute the letters of his name, that’s J=1,A=1,C=3,K=2,P=7,O=6,another P=7 and a final E=5, making a total of 32 which becomes 5. Mercury the communicator. He's good at talking with people. Then 9+ 5 makes 14 which adds to make another 5."

  "Well that certainly seems to be the case."

  "Oh I could tell you some stories." She looked towards Pamela as if seeking approval but Pamela seemed deeply engrossed in conversation with Anne.

  "Perhaps another time, we better mingle," she said.

  Load of old mumbo-jumbo, astrology is all right I always read my horoscope in the Daily Mail but I don’t really believe in it. If it wer
e true my Arthur would have contacted me by now, although perhaps he doesn’t know where I have moved too. I knew I should never have moved. What if he was searching for me all over Stripford? He will never find me. I must ask Julia if that could happen.

  The gnome that I had seen in the garden when I first arrived came in and Julia introduced him to me as Dave Tontine, which I already knew because Captain Smythe had mentioned it at my induction meeting when I first arrived. He didn't speak just looked me up and down before nodding and shambling away.

  "He's like that with everybody until he gets used to you, its nothing personal. His dog Toby is just the same. "

  I did not attend another coffee morning until the summer, mustn't allow people to get too familiar with one, they only take advantage. I've seen how they treat that poor Mr Tontine, getting him running into the town to pick up their papers or call at the doctors to drop their prescription in. Be wanting me to baby-sit their grandchildren before you know where you are. No chance of that, Sue Greystone's granddaughter is a little monster. A proper spoilt princess, leaves Sue running ragged she do. You don’t want that sort of thing at our time of life.

  Meanwhile I am trying to get some order and routine into my life. This is what I did last week and I suppose describes a typical week in my life.

  Monday has always been washday.

  Mother and Gran had dedicated Monday to washing and I see no reason to change although it seems to get harder than ever as I get older. Jane used to collect my laundry and do it in her washing machine but that’s out now, nobody thinks of these poor old washday hands. I do my washing by hand, then I dry everything by putting them in the spin drier, I have had it for years, it’s like an old friend, and gets things nearly dry. I then hang them up in the bathroom to finish off before ironing them.

  Tuesdays, I buy my magazines. There are so many to choose from that I can never decide so I buy different ones every week. Apart from 'Woman' which used to be chock a block with recipes and tips when mother bought it but it but seems to be trying to revamp itself although I see no reason not to continue buying it they all seem too much of a muchness.

  A lady in Smiths saw me browsing and suggested I might like 'Yours' but it’s all about old people and I get enough of them. Magazines are to take one out of oneself. I also get a Crossword Magazine, once a month. Using the brain helps to stave off Old-timers disease.

  Do you know I must spend about £10 a month on magazines and that’s apart from what I spend on a newspaper every day, that’s got to be another £10, I could have a good day out with that. Still it keeps my mind sharp and you can’t put a price on that.

  On Tuesday afternoons Lily, a mobile hairdresser visits the compound and I can get my hair done. It’s so much more convenient than having to go to the hairdressers. I generally have a wash and a perm. Not every week mind you I think you can overdo these things. Besides I don’t have money to burn. Lily says that I have very fine hair, I think she means that it is getting a bit thin, well what can you expect after a lifetime of worry and toil I tell her.

  Most Wednesdays I go to the Savoy cinema in the afternoon, pensioners get a discount. If there is a good film on I watch some daytime television. I like the old films best like 'African Queen' or 'Casablanca' with Humphrey Bogart, although this new boy Daniel Craig as James Bond seems quite nice, almost as good as that Roger Moore. Now he was a real charmer. Never liked that Sean Cornery, all hairy except where it counted, on his head, uncouth little irk. Did you know he wears a wig?

  Sometimes they have Bingo and I enjoy that. The excitement if you win. I go on my own because if you go with someone they expect to share your winnings.

  Nobody has ever shared with me. I remember going to the Granada Bingo back home with Mrs Trundle. She just beat me to a house, standing up and shouting, I was so embarrassed. She won £50 but did she share it with me, did she? Not on your nellie. I told her there and then that if I ever won I would keep it. Then two weeks later when I won £20 for a line she tried to insist we had an agreement to share. I told her to get lost and we nearly had a fight in the hall. The bingo caller came down from his podium to sort it out and I was told not to come again. I might have the occasional Senior Citizen moment but there are some things you never forget.

  I go to the market and buy my fruit and vegetables. They are much cheaper than the supermarkets. Arthur never approved of supermarkets even though he managed one, called them Robber Barons and said they pay the least and charge the most.

  Thursday, I usually stay in and do all those little jobs that seemed to mount up, like the sewing and ironing. It doesn’t do to let things slide. People just don’t seem to be bothered nowadays about their appearance. By the end of the day I feel drained, it's surprising how things continually need doing.

  Friday’s I go to the Saint Christoph's Hospice shop where I help out for four hours in the afternoon. That was just one of the suggestions Jane had. “Don’t just sit there waiting to die Mum, go out and join in with life. Get yourself a job at one of the Charity Shops. They are always crying out for volunteers. I checked out several of the charity shops and Saint Christoph's Hospice shop seemed to be nice and airy with a good class of customer.

  At least you get a better class of people in Upper Magister. People that you can pass the time of day with. They were talking of taking on unemployed people to give them work experience back at the Stripford charity shop. Well I shall leave if they do that here and I have told the manageress Mrs M. my opinion.

  She said that I was not to worry and that if she had to take any on she would make sure that they worked in the back room away from the general public.

  We have one of those Downs syndrome girls, Milly, short for Matilda who helps out, makes the tea and sorts the clothes. Really nice girl, so sweet. Got a bit of a temper though if she doesn’t get her own way. Her mother Carol works as a volunteer as well and keeps an eye out for her. It must be a strain on her poor dear but she bears it with such a good heart. Never complains. She told Milly that if she didn't tidy up she would tread on her toes. My, didn't we laugh.

  The shop helps to support a residential and day-care centre for people with serious or terminal illnesses so it’s a good cause.

  Mrs M is a bit bossy but she is full time and has targets to meet. Tall lady with silver blue hair done with a French barrette and high heels, looks like she belongs to the W.I. Carries herself well, think she's from Edinburgh or some such place. She has only the slightest trace of an accent and it gives her voice a nice distinctive sound. She insists on us calling her Mrs M as I think she believes that it gives her an air of mystery. I know her name is Mrs McTeith as I saw it on an envelope she left by the till one afternoon. I thought of joining the W.I. and asked Mrs M. about it but she was evasive, muttering about work and social life not mixing. She promised to get back to me about it but I won’t hold my breath.

  I think she has a fancy man. I know she is divorced as she mentioned it to one of the other volunteers, but I overheard her say that her friend visits her on a Thursday so she has to get something in on Wednesday evening after work. I asked the others but they said she likes to keep her private life separate and doesn’t talk about it.

  Saturday, I pick up any other bits from the local shops and have a cup of herbal tea at this lovely little Georgian tea shop called Rosemary's that I discovered down a little whitewashed lane just off the main road. Being off the main thoroughfare it only caters for a small select group of customer. I have been going there every Saturday since I discovered it and now the waitress, Lucy often stops and passes the time of day between customers.

  Poor Lucy, it appears that her husband has got a fancy piece and keeps going away. He says its on business but Lucy knows better as she found a hotel recipe for a double room in one of his jackets. She told me that she had confronted him but he had said that he had shared the room with another chap from work. She was almost in tears when she told me and I felt like an Agony Aunt but I gave her some good adv
ice.

  “The best thing you can do is leave him," I said. Of course she broke down in tears. I don’t know why but people seem to have no backbone these days.

  "Men, you can't trust the buggers, I trusted my Arthur and look what he did, left me.” I said.

  "I thought he had died." She muttered between sobs.

  "That does not make me any less alone, he still left me on my own."

  She didn't seem to think it was the same thing. Perhaps I shall find somewhere else to go for my Saturday tea. People can get too familiar. Why must they spoil things?

  Finally Sunday, I go to church in the morning, the Church of St Luke's The vicar the Rev. Colin Clarke, is a bit of a milksop loves everybody, still I suppose that’s his job and he usually gives a good sermon. He is a big strapping chap who apparently played rugby for his university team but has gone to seed now. Today it has been about loving ones neighbour, well think I have seen little enough of that thank you very much, but I suppose he means well.

  After the service I had a walk through the cemetery. Nobody I know there of course but its interesting to read the gravestones and see the angels carved on the tombs. I hope I get a nice tombstone. It was quite a mild morning, a slight breeze brushed the flowers that had been laid, mainly carnations, on the graves, they are probably cheap at this time of the year, after all you wouldn’t want to be spending a lot of money on flowers that hardly anyone sees. I saw a couple standing by one of the monuments praying so I left. Don’t like to intrude.