by Steve Howrie
* * *
Just come back from the Halloween party... what have I done?
I must admit, I never expected Julie to dress like a man – a male vampire, in fact. Klaussie also cross–dressed and came as a rather sexy looking female vampire. Amazing what a bit of make–up, the right wig, black silk stockings, a padded bra and a bit of perfume can do. As soon as he saw Julie, he was attracted like a magnet. I was not too pleased, I can tell you. Talking about his love for her is one thing – drinking her blood is an entirely different matter.
Meanwhile, Graham was chatting Sheila up, whilst she was swigging from a bottle labelled ‘Fresh Blood’, but I suspect it was in fact Bloody Mary (excuse my language).
I was getting a bit sick of seeing Klaussie drooling all over Julie by this time, and finally lost my rag. “Look Klaussie,” I said, “I’ve just about had it up to here with you chatting up Julie – or should I say, ‘my wife’.
“Your wife?” he repeated. “You mean... you and Julie are married?”
Everything stopped. The conversation, the music, the World. The students, who had previously been involved in Halloween games, were suddenly paying attention. Then Big Ron broke the silence:
“Well, congratulations!” Everyone (except Julie and me) cheered and clapped. The guys slapped me on the back, and the girls kissed Julie. The students went back to their games. Julie looked confused.
“When did we get married?” she whispered, “I don’t remember it.”
“Oh, you know… it was very quick,” I said confidently.
“Was I there?” she asked.
“No I… I did it on my own. You can do that in China.”
She looked even more confused. “But shouldn’t you have given me a ring?”
“Well, I tried – several times – but your phone was always busy.”
“No – I mean a ring for my finger.”
“Oh, I see… well… that’s all in hand.”
I think that’s how it went. It was all a bit of a blur. I might not have been totally honest with Julie about one or two details, but it’s the thought that counts.
Tuesday 2
Was deep in thought in the coffee bar this afternoon about Julie and wedlock, when Graham blew in.
“Hey, Simon – how’s things in the Math department?” Groan. Had to tell him that it’s Maths, not ‘Math’. No–one says ‘Physic’ for Physics, ‘Economic’ for Economics, or ‘Business Stud’ for Business Studies, so what’s with this Math stuff?
Actually, when I said ‘Business Stud’ his face lit up, and he went into a dream–like euphoria for a moment. Then he snapped out of it, laughed and punched me on the shoulder.
“Hey Buddy, you’re fun!” Then he came close and whispered, “Wanna make some big money… real quick?”
“Do I look stupid?” I said. He looked at me strangely.
“Well, I have to say that from this angle… yeah, you do a bit. But that’s not your best side.”
When he took me to the Photocopy room, I thought: okay I know where this is going. But actually this was just the quickest way to the Business Studies office. Then he showed me a pretty cool website.
“You see, kid, in China, gambling’s pretty much a no–no – unless you’re in Macau. But playing the stock market is perfectly legal. And guess who knows all about the Stock Market?”
“Warren Buffet?” I ventured.
“Apart from him.”
“Howard Hughes?”
“No.”
“Gordon Brown?”
“Who’s he?”
“Former British Prime Minister.”
“No, definitely not.”
“The Wall Street Journal?”
“No! It’s me! I know everything you need to know about making money on the stock market – it’s what I do.”
Graham proceeded to pick out a handful of companies with ‘hot’ stock. All I had to do was buy 100,000 Yuan worth of shares in them. “Woah! That’s ten thousand quid!” I said.
“Speculate to accumulate,” he replied.
“Spend a packet on a foolish racket,” I countered.
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” he added.
“Lose control, lose your Soul,” I said.
“Damned if you do, and damned if you don’t.”
I had no answer to that. So I just asked him how I bought the shares.
“Well, first you give your money to me…”
See you later alligator.
Question: If Graham is so red–hot at playing the markets and making a fast buck, what is he doing working at our school?
Wednesday 3
It’s our mid–term examinations next week, and Dr Wang has asked me to set the maths paper! “But don’t make it too difficult,” she said, “we don’t want the students demoralised by low grades – the parents won’t be pleased.” Message received – Roger and Out.
Had no lessons in the afternoon, so began work on the maths paper. Thought I’d set a multiple choice type of exam – these are my questions so far:
Q1: A number which can only be divided by one and itself is called:
(a)A Prime Number
(b)A Prime Minister
(c)A Prime Steak
(d)The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie.
Q2: Pythagorean Geometry was invented by:
(a)Isaac Newton
(b)Richard Branson
(c)Pythagoras
(d)Your maths teacher
Q3: The distance between the points (x1, y1) and (x2, y2) is:
(a)4 metres
(b)The square root of the squares of the differences between {x1, x2} and {y1, y2}.
(c)E = mc2
(d)A long way
Q4: A Surd is:
(a)A person who comes from Afghanistan
(b)A long, sharp weapon, made of steel
(c)A silly word
(d)A number which can’t be simplified to remove a square root, cube root, etc.
I gave these questions to Julie to try out, and she only got one right (and that was a lucky guess). But when I told her it was in fact a maths test, not a general knowledge quiz, she did get all the right answers.
I think Dr Wang will be pleased.
Thursday 4
I’ve tried to forget about our Halloween party; but the truth is I’ve told everyone at school that Julie and I are married – so what now? Suppose I’ll have to buy her an expensive ring. How did I get into this mess? How do you find someone’s ring size anyway – without asking them? I was looking for inspiration when Julie walked through the door.
“Simon, you know you said that the new bread knife was very sharp…”
“Yeessss...” I said slowly.
“Well, you were right.” She held up a finger wrapped in bloody tissue. What can I do with her?
“Give that to me….”
“It’s still attached…”
“I mean come here.”
The cut wasn’t deep and just needed cleaning and a plaster putting on it. Then a light bulb went on. “I just need to measure it,” I said.
“What, my finger?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“These Band–Aids aren’t any good. They say one size fits all, but that’s crap. I need to buy some made–to–measure ones for you.” She looked surprised (as I would be). I continued, “We just give them your measurements and they manufacture the plasters to your size – a bit like having a suit made.”
“These Chinese can do anything,” she said in awe.
Julie had the bright idea of using a piece of string to measure the circumference of her finger. This was after I broke the plastic ruler trying to bend it around her digit.
Friday 5 Guy Fawkes Night!
Last night I looked in the local supermarket for wedding rings, but they were all plastic ones costing fifteen kwai. Did wonder for a moment if that would do the trick; but then decided that Julie is worth a bit more than that. So just bought a
packet of assorted plasters instead. Took them home, and told Julie these were a temporary measure whilst the personalised ones were being made – should have those tomorrow.
Told my students all about Guido Fawkes and the Gunpowder plot today. Y’know, I’d really like to teach history. I think I’ve got a flair for telling stories, and I think that’s all you need to be a good history teacher. Couldn’t remember the name of the king that Guido was trying to blow up, or the year of the plot – or the names of the conspirators – but I think they got the idea. Did tell them about the time my uncle Ernie lost an eye setting off a rocket from a milk bottle. Told him to stay away from it when it didn’t go off straightaway, but he did insist on shaking the bottle as he peered down the neck.
When I told the students that us Brits invented fireworks they didn’t seem too pleased. One even claimed that the Chinese invented them two thousand years ago! Kids! Anyway, I thought I’d give them face, so I said it was a joint venture between the two countries. Still didn’t seem happy though…
Saturday 6
Went downtown this morning to buy that special ring for Julie. God the prices! Gave the measurements to the woman in the store and she hand–picked a few wedding rings for me. She told me it really had to be a diamond for a wedding ring, so found a diamond ring that didn’t cost the Earth, but looked cool. “How can you tell the difference between the real deal and a fake?” I asked. Fortunately, she could speak some English.
“Oh, it’s cut of stone, and shine. Anyone which works in diamond ring industry knows difference.”
“What about people like me?” I asked.
“Some stones, such as Cubic Zirconia, are so close to look and feel of diamond you cannot see difference. Only trained experts know.” She showed me a CZ ring. It was a quarter of the price, and for the life of me I couldn’t tell which was which. But, of course, I had to get the real deal for my Julie, didn’t I?
Sunday 7
Fortunately, I think Julie had completely forgotten about the made–to–measure Band–Aids when I got home. She was sitting in the lounge watching a movie (The Wedding Planner), and I told her to close her eyes. Then I pulled out the box containing the ring. “I love you Jules,” I said.
“I love you too, Simon,” she said, still with her eyes closed.
“You can open them now...”
“Oh! Simon!” She opened the box, and took out the ring. “It’s beautiful! Is it a real diamond?”
“Only the best for you baby.”
She tried to put it on. “It’s a bit tight… but it fits on this other finger perfectly!” It was nice to see her so happy. She stood up and gave me a big, passionate kiss. “And now we’re married!” she said.
“Sure are.”
“There’s one thing I wanted to ask you... can I see a copy of the marriage licence?”
Panic!
“Of course you can... only… only… it’s still in the government office. They don’t give it to you straightaway – you have to wait. You know these Chinese…”
“Oh, okay,” she said. “It’s just that I wanted to see what my new name looks like in black and white.”
“New name?”
“Yes – Julie Broom.”
“Oh, that new name...” Panic! “Well, you’ll see that soon enough.”
Monday 8
One lie follows another.
Decided today that I’ll have to straighten everything out – do the marriage thing properly and get certified. Either certified insane or certified married. Looked up the British Embassy’s Shanghai website and discovered that we both need ‘Certificates of No Impediment’ before we can get married in China. Thought it could be a problem at first (Julie does seem to walk strangely sometimes). But then discovered that ‘impediment’ means not being married already. Well, we’re both in the clear then. All we have to do is apply for these certificates at the British Consulate downtown, and then get married – for real this time.
Told Julie about the ‘No Impediment’ certificates over dinner. Didn’t tell her we weren’t really married – just said it was a formality, a bit of paperwork to make everything completely legal. She went very quiet, and then said, “If someone got married in another country – I mean, not in China or the UK – would that count?”
“Well, yeah… married is married. Why d’you ask?”
“You remember when I went to Portugal with Paulo… the waiter I knew…”
“Yeah…”
“Well, we went out for a few drinks one night to celebrate his birthday – with some friends of his. It was a real laugh, and we all got a bit drunk. A lot drunk. Then Paulo said we should get married – me and him – just for a laugh. He said one of his friends was a priest, and he could do it for us, there and then. So I said, ‘Oh, go on then!’ This guy did all the religious ceremony stuff – and it was a scream. He was like a stand–up comedian, and talked all this nonsense about Adam & Eve, saying that Adam had a spare rib, and God didn’t know whether to barbecue it or turn it into a woman! Paulo even pulled out a ring he’d found in his restaurant, and put it on my finger. I didn’t think it was serious. But the next day, Paulo showed me the marriage certificate! I went ballistic, and told him to undo the whole thing – but he said he didn’t want to: he was in love with me. That’s when I realised how stupid I was to leave you and go to Portugal, and I took the next flight home.”
I was stunned.
“So you’re married – to Paulo?” I said. She nodded.
“So, we can’t be legally married in China, right?” She collapsed in my arms and sobbed. “I’m sorry Simon, I really am. I want to marry you.”
Tuesday 9
Couldn’t get yesterday out of my mind. Julie – married to that Portuguese waste–of–space…
Quickly came out of my depression when I heard some breaking news at school: Big Ron received a verbal warning from Dr Wang! She told him that wearing his football shirt in class was ‘not professional’. He replied that Arsenal is a professional football club and he was proud to support them. She said it is not a Chinese thing to do, and asked him to remove it. So he did – right in front of her – and proceeded to teach his next lesson bare–chested!
Well, that’s the story. Klaus and me took Ron for a drink after school to get the full details. Apparently, his students were either very embarrassed or very amused when he removed his shirt. One said to another, “Ta zhang le hen duo mao!” (He’s so hairy.) Klaus asked what Dr Wang did next.
“Nothing,” said Ron. “She just walked away shaking her head.”
“D’you think you’ll get fired?”
“No way... I’m a Biology teacher – we never get fired. Too many jobs chasing too few teachers. Anyway, I was teaching Human Biology at the time, so the bare chest thing fitted in nicely.” Then Ron turned to me. “Talking of bare chests, how’s married life, Simon? Keeping up with her?” Klaus laughed. Then Ron said, “By the way, you’ll qualify for the married person’s housing allowance now – an extra two thousand yuan a month.”
My eyes turned to dollar signs.
“I will?”
“Yeah. Just go and see Joey in HR and he’ll fix it for you. You just have to show him your marriage certificate.”
I hate Portuguese waiters.
Wednesday 10
Apparently, Joey is an ABC – according to Sammy in Admin. That means ‘American Born Chinese’, she told me.
“Does that make a difference?” I asked.
“Some people think he’s not real Chinese,” she said. “He can’t get a Chinese passport.”
“Well, neither can I,” I replied, “so I’m the same as Joey.” She looked puzzled.
“I don’t think it works like that,” she said.
Told Julie about the extra money we could get if we were married. She didn’t react for a minute, and then said, “What if Paulo came over here, and I showed Joey our marriage certificate. Would that do?”
“Are you crazy?” I sai
d, “I thought you hated the guy?”
“Yeah… but just supposing. I can get the marriage allowance if I’m married, and my husband’s in Shanghai, right?”
“No – not right! You’d have to live with him!”
“But who would know that I wasn’t?”
I thought about that.
“But Joey would see the name ‘Paulo Bastardo’, or whatever his name is, and know it wasn’t me!”
“Why do I have to be married to you?”
“Well, for starters, I’ve told half the population of Shanghai that we are.”
Then she said I just had to admit I’d made a mistake. “We invite Paulo over here, get the certificate, get the money from Joey, and then you kill him.
“Why would I want to kill Joey?”
“Not Joey – Paulo.”
Thursday 11
Couldn’t get last night’s conversation out of my head today. Sometimes I wonder if Julie has a strange twin sister who pops up now and then to torment me. Thought about bringing up the topic again at breakfast, but realised she might ask me to actually hire an assassin. Then I had a brainwave. Called Big Ron, and arranged to meet him at Starbucks.
“So, you’d like to borrow my marriage certificate, Simon… because?”
“Oh, it’s not for me – it’s Julie. She just wants to see if yours is the same as ours. Women, eh!”
“Well, I can tell you straightaway that it’s not.”
“It isn’t?”
“No – mine’s got my name on it!”
Are all Arsenal fans like this?
Anyway, he said ‘no problem’ and he’d bring it in to school tomorrow. What a guy.
Friday 12
Mid–term exam results out!
Feeling very pleased with myself today: all my maths students scored one hundred percent in the examinations. Well, all but one (who thought they were trick questions on the paper and failed). Couldn’t wait to see Dr Wang’s face! Perhaps this could mean a raise – or head of department…
“Simon – I don’t know what to say…”
“Bu keqi,” I said (you’re welcome).
“Two of the parents are furious. Their son Troy, the best student in the school, only scored ten percent in your test.”
“Yes, but everyone else scored full–marks,” I pointed out.
“Which makes it ten times worse! Do know what his father is?”
“A man?” I suggested.
“One of our directors!”
“Oh.”
“You’ll have to put this right – and quick.”
So no promotion just yet then.
Saturday 13
Thank goodness it’s the weekend. November is not such a good month so far – things can only get better (I hope).
Showed Julie Ron’s marriage certificate today. She thought it was sweet, and noticed that Venus had kept her own family name – which is what they do in China apparently. Then I said, “You know how good you are at Photoshop, Jules?”
“Yeah...?”
“Well, how easy would it be to make a slight alteration to this certificate, and print out a new one?”
“Oh, dead easy – scan it at high res, blow it up, make the changes and print a new colour copy. Sorted. Most people wouldn’t notice the difference. Why? Is there a spelling error?”
Now it was time to cross the line.
“Well, you could say that… how would you feel about deleting their names and inserting, say, ours instead?”
“But we’ve got our own certificate… haven’t we? You told me you went to the Government Office…”
This was the moment I’d been dreading. “Well… actually….” I decided to come clean and told Julie I didn’t actually go to the Government Office – I’d made it all up about being married. I was fed up with Klaus coming on to her last Halloween, and wanted him to know he had no chance with her. I thought she was going to hit me, but instead she gave me a kiss.
“Oh! That was really nice babe. Don’t worry, we can get married for real later – once you’ve killed that bastard Paulo. But for now, let’s get going on Photoshop…”
Sunday 14
I wanted to be James Bond when I was younger – Double–O–Seven. Or if that wasn’t possible, Double–O–Seven–point–five. All that secret agent stuff with the girls, guns, and fast cars. But now I feel like one of the criminals. Yesterday, we were forging documents, and tomorrow I’m expected to change a kid’s exam grade – all because he didn’t understand the questions and messed up. No – I’m not doing it: he’s getting nothing more from me. Period.
Monday 15
How do you change ten percent into one hundred? Easy – you add nothing. Or zero, to be precise. Parent happy, Principal happy, principles happy.
Met Julie for lunch, and she told me she’s got something welling up inside her and she needs to get it out. At first, I thought she was pregnant – but no: she’s talking about her creative side. She said she wants to share her feelings, and she’s written a piece for the Writers group meeting tonight. She gave me a sneak preview of her cheery little verse called ‘Ruth’:
RUTH, by Julie
When I die,
You’re coming with me.
When I cry,
You’re drowning too.
Rivers run,
No more fun,
Pregnant women cry.
Looking bleak,
Feel a freak,
Why, oh why, oh why?
When I laugh,
I’m feeling empty.
In the bath,
I’m drowning too.
Horses run,
No–ones won,
Nothing but the truth.
Feeling down,
Hit the town,
Change my name to Ruth.
She said she felt better after writing that. I said I felt worse. Apparently (according to Julie) that’s just ‘Ying and Yang’ (a Punk band from Manchester who play songs to slit your wrists to).
I had to admit I didn’t understand the last line. She explained that because she doesn’t want to be ruthless, she must be Ruth. Makes some sort of sense. I asked her if she had a title, and she said, “Not really, Julie’s fine”. I said I really meant a name for the poem, and she said: ‘The only way to true happiness it to make everyone else depressed.’
“It’s a bit long,” I said.
She suddenly looked at me with big, hungry eyes. “Let’s have sex,” she said.
So we did.
Tuesday 16
Unfortunately, ended up missing the Writers’ group meeting last night because of Julie’s earthy passions. Will try to make it next week.
Google was back at work today after visiting her sick Auntie in hospital, and I suddenly realised how much I’d missed her (Google, not the Auntie). “How was she?” I asked.
“She was fine,” Google replied. “The funeral’s on Saturday.” I was confused.
“I thought you said she was fine?”
“Yes, she was – but now she’s not. After I left the hospital yesterday, she died in her sleep.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said sympathetically. “But at least that’s the best way to go.” (I think sympathy is one of my best characteristics.)
“How do you know that?” she asked.
“How do I know what?”
“How do you know that dying in your sleep is the best way to go?”
I thought about this for a minute. “Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? You’re asleep, and then you don’t wake up. It’s a no brainer.”
“Have you ever died in your sleep?” she asked. I shook my head. “Then you really don’t know, do you Simon? Perhaps Auntie died during a really bad nightmare, which went on forever and ever and ever?”
I had to admit I’d never thought of it like that.
Anyway, I got Google up to speed with all the school gossip, and then she said, “Sammy in Admin told me you’re married.”
“Did she now? Wel
l, yes... a bit married…”
“Mmm… interesting,” she said, looking at me as if I was a lab monkey.
Did I say that I missed Google?
Wednesday 17
I returned Big Ron’s marriage certificate today, and then took our ‘copy’ to Joey in HR. He made a note of the details, then remarked, “So, you and Julie were married on the same day as Ron and Venus?”
“Really?” I said, feigning surprise.
“Yeah… and even at the same government office! It’s a pity about your housing allowance, though.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well, your new allowance is an extra two thousand yuan per month – taking you up to five thousand. But you share that with Julie.”
“What? So how much does she get?”
“Technically, nothing. She’s your dependent now.”
“So you’re saying that before we received three thousand each, but now – because we’re married – we get five thousand between us?”
“That’s about the size of it, yeah.”
I couldn’t believe it – all that forgery for nothing! Well, less than nothing – now we get one thousand kwai less per month. But Joey had some comforting news.
“Hey, look at it this way: now you can have sex anytime you want, without pretending that you don’t!”
Great.
When I told Julie about my conversation with Joey and the lower rent allowance, I thought she was going to hit the roof – but no. “Okay, no problem,” she said as she tore through the packaging of a DVD.
“Really?” I said.
“Yes. All we have to do is get divorced.”
I was stopped in my tracks.
“Divorced?”
“Yeah… it’s only nine kwai, right?” Of all the words I could use to describe Julie, ‘practical’ would be pretty high up the list. “Okay babes?”
“O–kay... I said slowly, thinking through the implications, ramifications, pros–and–cons, positives–and–negatives, ups–and–downs. “Shall I see to that then?”
“That would be sweet,” she said as she hit the play button on the DVD player.
Problem: how do you get divorced when you’re not really married?
Thursday 18
Didn’t sleep well last night. I was going through all the options for this divorce thing. Finally decided on a story, and went to see Joey again. It went a bit like this.
“Hi Joey.”
“Hi Simon, what’s up?”
“Oh, just a little marriage problem…”
“Tell me about it! I’ve been married for three years now, and it doesn’t get any better. So what’s the problem?”
“You know how in the West we can have dual nationality – like if my Dad was Portuguese, but I was born in England...”
“I didn’t know you were Portuguese...”
“No, I’m not. It’s just an example. But if, say, that was true I could have dual Nationality – British and Portuguese.”
“Right, got you.”
“Well, Julie has the idea that she could have a sort of dual–marriage nationality.”
“Is she Portuguese?”
“No – but she did get married in Portugal last year.”
“I see, I see. So she thought she could get married in China as well?”
“Right, that’s it.”
“Well, that’s not a problem at all for foreigners – you can do that.”
“We can?”
“Sure. There’s no law against you and Julie having two marriage ceremonies in two different countries.”
“Ah, well you see, the thing is that in Portugal she didn’t exactly marry me…”
“Oh, right. Well, in that case, it’s called bigamy – and if the government finds out, you’ll both go to Prison. Anything else I can help you with?”
Friday 19
Told Julie that I’d got nowhere with Joey. She’s quite a headstrong girl, as you may have guessed. Tried to tell her that phoning Paulo wouldn’t do any good, but would she listen?
“Paulo?... yes, it’s me... cut the crap will you? You know what I want… No, it’s not that…. Yes, we did have some nice nights – but life isn’t only about (whispers) ‘sex’. You’re with who now? Oh, fuck off Paulo.”
This was going well, I thought.
“Look, I want a divorce (silence). Paulo, did you hear me? What! That’s not funny… you bastard! Yeah, enjoy your life too.”
She put down the receiver with finality. “Can you believe this guy?”
“Well, I did tell you it was a waste of time…”
“We’re not married!”
“Yes, I know that Jules – you don’t have to tell me that.”
“No, I mean me and Paulo. It was all a set–up. Fake priest, fake ring, fake certificate… He said he does that with all the tourists he fancies… the bastard! Anyway, at least you don’t have to kill him now… give me a kiss.”
And so I did. I couldn’t believe that anyone would actually fake a marriage certificate.
Saturday 20
Had a bad dream last night about being stuck on an escalator. I was in a department store with Julie and left her on the ground floor so I could look at the sportswear upstairs. Halfway up, I started feeling guilty about leaving Jules on her own, and started walking down the escalator (not an easy thing to do in real life, but this was a dream). Then a steel door came down – blocking my exit to the ground floor; so the only way was up. But before I could get to the top, another steel door on the first floor closed, and I was trapped. Then the whole escalator began closing in on me and I was going to be crushed to death! Woke up in a cold sweat, vowing to always take the stairs in future.
I told Julie about the dream in bed this morning, and she said, “We should have a party.”
“What, because I had a bad dream?” I asked.
“No, we should have a party to celebrate me not being married to Paulo, but really married to you.”
“But we’re not really...” Whoa! Had to think this through.
“What?” she said.
“The others think we’re married already… they don’t know about the Paulo thing.”
“It doesn’t matter – we’re just having a party to celebrate us being married. They don’t have to know the details.”
“Okay boss,” I said.
I’d started saying that in a sort of sarcastic reverence after hearing Big Ron talk to Venus. She seemed to like it.
Anyway, although it was short notice to invite everyone for a party tonight, we thought it was now or never and invited our colleagues from school. But not Joey, as he might ask some difficult questions – and not Dr Wang, because she’d probably want to evaluate our party. In the end, Ron, Klaus, Sheila and Google said they’d love to come.
Sunday 21
Nice get together last night. Julie told everyone about Paulo’s marriage scam, which they all thought was hilarious. Then I told them about my strange escalator dream. What did they think it meant?
“Did time seem to stand still?” asked Klaus.
“Well, as a matter of fact, I think it did Klaussie.”
“Yah, it seems you were drawn across the event horizon of a black hole. The space–time continuum was frozen, and you were trapped in a discontinuity.”
“Right,” I said.
Sheila had a different take.
“What’s he on about? It’s dead simple Simon: you shouldn’t leave that lovely wife of yours on her own – and you should drink more.”
Big Ron disagreed.
“Nah, that’s rubbish – both of you. Simon didn’t get trapped because he left Julie – he got snared up because he went back for her. He should have gone straight to the sports section, got his Arsenal gear, and seen his lady later.”
“But I don’t support Arsenal,” I said.
“Well, that’s your second mistake. If you did, you’d never have put the girl before the team.”
I
was confused – so I found Google, and asked her about it.
“Are you really married, Simon?” she asked.
“’Course,” I said defensively. “Why d’you say that?”
“Because Joey told me that you and Ron got married on the same day...”
“I’m definitely not married to Ron,” I said.
“No, I mean… you married Julie, and Ron married Venus on the same day – October ninth.”
“Right… what’s wrong with that?”
“I remember you telling me that October the ninth was Julie’s birthday, and you spent all day at the Expo.”
My mouth opened and closed. Then I said, “Did I?” She nodded. “Well, perhaps we got married at the Expo…”
“But I thought you were married at the same place as Ron, and he got married at the government office near the school.”
Was this the time to come clean? Could I trust Google?
“Can I trust you Google?” I said.
“You can trust me to be honest,” she replied. Well, that will have to be good enough, I thought.
“No, Julie and I are not married – not really. She’s got the ring, but that’s all… we don’t really know how to do it properly in China.”
“Then the certificate’s a fake?”
It was my time to nod.
“No problem Simon – I can help.”
“You can?”
“Of course – it will be my pleasure.”
So I never got my dream sorted out, but Google said she’d help with the marriage bit. Because of the cut in housing allowance, we didn’t really want to be married; but before we could be single again we had to get divorced, and we couldn’t do that until we were legally married. Such is life.
