Missing and Meeting.

(Sorry about the poor picture. It was the only one I could find on the internet.)

I went into the theatre today armed with a bagful of questions for Rob, such as ‘why does my computer do this, this, and this?’ and ‘am I using these charcoal discs and the dry incense right, because my house gets awful smoky?’ and ‘why didn’t you tell me the price of gold was about to plummet?’ Rob is one of those people who make it their life’s mission to know quite a lot about quite a lot of things. I was told he was on his way to Prague. OK, Plan B.

I went and talked to Russell instead. He was hanging the latest art exhibition, a job he’s done ever since I packed it in four or five years ago. He doesn’t do it as well as I used to, but I didn’t say anything (that’s an Alan Bennett and Rebecca joke, for those who missed it.) Russell has strange, oblique views on nearly everything, which is probably why we get on well. Today we talked mostly about in-growing toenails and when art isn’t art. But the best was yet to come.

Who should walk past, but Kerry. Kerry was another old associate, the girl who was always leaving late when I was doing my duty on the reception desk. She was a dancer/youth worker employed with the ongoing community project the theatre ran. She always stopped for a chat on the way out, I remember, and I was always a little flattered that she did. She had a hint of the dark Irish in her dark good looks, with maybe a touch of some Latin senorita a few generations back. Her eyes carried ever the potential for mischief, and even a sharp word or two should they be needed. I asked her what she’d been doing all these years. ‘Making babies,’ she replied. You wouldn’t have known it; she didn’t look a day different from the last time I saw her maybe ten years ago.

And then there was Jo, my old manager from the picture-hanging days, looking as contented and well balanced as ever. I wish I was content and well balanced, but then I’m a Sagittarian; Jo isn’t. Jo has the same birthday as my mother, which I always thought an odd coincidence when I was acting under orders.

So, having sated myself on old acquaintances, I took myself off to the town where I had a spot of lunch and bought some lawn feed. And then I went home.

No I didn’t. I stopped off at Uttoxeter on the way back, and went into the shop where they usually have a different beer for me to try – on special offer, of course. Today’s offer was Krombacher Dark German beer, which might seem a poor substitute for dark Irish good looks, but it will be kinder to the heart in more ways than one.