It Always Rains on Sundays Read Free Book Online Page A

odd pebbles, refusing to make eye contact, making it clear not wanting to go anywhere – or expecting to be carried at least.
    What stopped me I don’t know – it was right on the tip of my tongue. ‘No, we’re fucking-well walking for a change’ I almost said. ‘God in heaven’ I yelled – ‘what are feet for anyway?’ I’d to frog-march the pair of them just about.
    It was good to get out into God’s clean fresh-air I’ll tell you.
    They soon settled down after a mile or so (albeit v.reluctantly I have to admit). We all ended up over at Sitlington Common – the Scarecrow Festival no less (I’d seen the notice up in the Library). Quite a crowd in fact. Mind you there’s always a good turnout. That and the glorious weather – best part of the day as things turned out. It was good to see lots of families out enjoyingthemselves I’ll tell you. I said hello to quite a few people. It’s with working up at the Library I suppose.
    Like I said, you nod, y’know.
    Oh yes (ha ha), young Jamie came out with rather a good one too. We were admiring the ‘scarecrows,’ watching the judging. Then he says – quick as a flash: ‘Keep moving dad, or you might end up winning a prize.’ Oh, very droll I thought to myself. Well, I laughed I’ll tell you. Lifted me no end – it’s good to know you can still laugh at yourself.
    Mind you we all know where that comes from don’t we?
    Who should we bump into next but Thelma from work. Amazing, all those crowds of people – isn’t it a small world. She was with Max, I waved. She came over. I introduced her to the children, they were more taken up with the dog. Max was wearing a new dog-collar.
    â€˜I’ve just bought it off one of the stalls.’
    â€˜Let’s hope it’s a good one’ I said.
    After that we all wandered around looking at the various attractions, bouncy castles, rides for the kids and what have you (Lucy had her face painted). Then later we all went into a large marquee for refreshments.
    Finally we all walked slowly back over the summery fields, it was all rather jolly, what with the kids chasing around with the dog and whatnot. Fair to say we all got on grand.
    In my notebook I’ve put: ‘Met Thelma from work – we all had a cup of tea in a big tent. MOST ENJOYABLE.’
    ***
Sunday 26th July.
Why don’t you come round for Sunday tea,
You won’t like her, but you might like me .
 
(ANON).
DeLacey Street.
  (Post-nil).
    7:00pm. (CONSERVATORY). Raining most of the day. No signs of a Sunday-roast either (I wouldn’t mind, it’s the highlight of the whole week). God knows why we’ve got a cooker, it’s only used once a year at Christmas – if that. Mind you, it’s the kids I feel sorry for. No wonder they always look so pale and washed-out. I made them fish-fingers and chips, followed by rice pudding out of a tin with a blob of my mother’s homemade raspberry jam in the middle.
    It just shows after that they both perked up visibly. They’d probably starve but for me. Mind you maybe it’s just as well as things turned out. Nobody saw hide nor hair of their lazy mother until well into the afternoon. Cynthia had another late night ( very ), then what’s new. We passed on the landing nobody speaking, just like a couple of strangers sharing a lift. She looked puce – you could hear her all over the house throwing-up in the top bathroom – frightening the cat.
    â€˜Where’s the sodding Disprins?’ she kept saying.
    Serves her right, I’ve no sympathy (she can hold her head between her hands all day for me). Don’t you worry,I know where they are alright – out in the conservatory, next to the Put-U-Up bed (and I’m certainly not going to tell her). She isn’t the only one who can have a blinding headache.
    So, then of course she’s taking it