hopping about all over my room in his great big marching boots. ‘Why, there’s thousands of us, David, thousands!’
He’d never called me by my Christian name before, and I hadn’t invited him to, because I prefer not to be called anything. My ex-wife used to call me Dave, and I’ve hated my name ever since. So that annoyed me to start with, and then his dirty great boots all over my carpet.
‘For Christ’s sake,’ I said, ‘sit down or take those boots off, man, I don’t want this place looking as though your whole loony procession has been through.’
But he wasn’t listening to a word I said, he just went on and on about how marvellous everything was.
‘David,’ he said, ‘I want to tell you——’
‘Don’t call me David,’ I said, ‘and take your boots off.’
‘But why shouldn’t I call you David?’ he said. ‘It’s your name, isn’t it? God, you don’t know what today was like. I fell in love with the whole world, it was just fabulous!’
Now when people say things like that to me I’m liable to get very pedantic and sarcastic and boring, and usually I say: ‘Really, are you sure, the whole world, how can that be? Let us examine our terms,’ and other carefully chosen irritants along the same lines. ButHarry was different, Harry was a friend of mine, and besides he was clearly out of his mind. I didn’t know what to say, so I said: ‘Oh my God, Harry.’
‘Dave,’ he said, and I winced, ‘Dave,’ and he seized my shoulders and started shaking me, ‘do you realize that the youth of the country is with us? Nothing can stop us now.’
‘Oh my God,’ I said again. What else could I say?
‘We’ll win now. We can’t lose. Everyone will come over. The thing’s a wild successs, don’t you see?’
‘No,’ I said, ‘I don’t. And take your boots——’
‘You will tomorrow!’ he shouted, and then he danced round my room a bit more, and then he went away, planning God knows what.
Well, you can imagine how I felt about all this, pretty fed up hardly describes it. I mean, what the hell could have got into the boy? I made myself angry thinking about the effect of mass meetings on impressionable minds, and muttered ‘Nuremberg’ to myself, like a good suspicious radical, and then I went to bed. I was so angry with Harry that I went straight to sleep. (Usually I lie awake for an hour or so working myself up into a rage, otherwise I can’t sleep. Yes, I dare say it is unusual.)
Well, next morning came, and nothing very exciting seemed to be happening that I could see. I hate the Easter holidays, anyway. It usually rains, and with a lot of guff about religion they even shut the cinemas most of the time. And I feel I ought to be doing something, which is nonsense. It’s as bad as Christmas. Anyway, I went along to the store to see what Harry was up to, but he wasn’t there. A lot of other people were there, though, and his poor mother was running round in circles doing his job and hers on one of the busiest mornings of the year. She was far too flustered for me to bother even to ask where Harry was. Anyway, she’s a pretty stupid woman, I think, or she wouldn’t let Harry spend so much time thinking about politics. If she was loyal to her class she wouldn’t stand for it. Well, I came out of the shop ready to be angry at the slightestopportunity, and the first thing I saw was one of my pupils, a particularly dim one at that, so I asked him with perhaps exaggerated care if he’d seen Harry. But of course he hadn’t, and he gave me a look as if to say I must be round the bend. Now if there’s one thing that really makes me angry it’s being treated as loopy by someone whom I know to be less intelligent than myself, so I gave him a gentle cuff over the ear and was about to move on when I saw that he was staring past me at something up the street.
Now our High Street, as well as being narrow, is straight. Jokes have been made about this which I do not intend to
He’d never called me by my Christian name before, and I hadn’t invited him to, because I prefer not to be called anything. My ex-wife used to call me Dave, and I’ve hated my name ever since. So that annoyed me to start with, and then his dirty great boots all over my carpet.
‘For Christ’s sake,’ I said, ‘sit down or take those boots off, man, I don’t want this place looking as though your whole loony procession has been through.’
But he wasn’t listening to a word I said, he just went on and on about how marvellous everything was.
‘David,’ he said, ‘I want to tell you——’
‘Don’t call me David,’ I said, ‘and take your boots off.’
‘But why shouldn’t I call you David?’ he said. ‘It’s your name, isn’t it? God, you don’t know what today was like. I fell in love with the whole world, it was just fabulous!’
Now when people say things like that to me I’m liable to get very pedantic and sarcastic and boring, and usually I say: ‘Really, are you sure, the whole world, how can that be? Let us examine our terms,’ and other carefully chosen irritants along the same lines. ButHarry was different, Harry was a friend of mine, and besides he was clearly out of his mind. I didn’t know what to say, so I said: ‘Oh my God, Harry.’
‘Dave,’ he said, and I winced, ‘Dave,’ and he seized my shoulders and started shaking me, ‘do you realize that the youth of the country is with us? Nothing can stop us now.’
‘Oh my God,’ I said again. What else could I say?
‘We’ll win now. We can’t lose. Everyone will come over. The thing’s a wild successs, don’t you see?’
‘No,’ I said, ‘I don’t. And take your boots——’
‘You will tomorrow!’ he shouted, and then he danced round my room a bit more, and then he went away, planning God knows what.
Well, you can imagine how I felt about all this, pretty fed up hardly describes it. I mean, what the hell could have got into the boy? I made myself angry thinking about the effect of mass meetings on impressionable minds, and muttered ‘Nuremberg’ to myself, like a good suspicious radical, and then I went to bed. I was so angry with Harry that I went straight to sleep. (Usually I lie awake for an hour or so working myself up into a rage, otherwise I can’t sleep. Yes, I dare say it is unusual.)
Well, next morning came, and nothing very exciting seemed to be happening that I could see. I hate the Easter holidays, anyway. It usually rains, and with a lot of guff about religion they even shut the cinemas most of the time. And I feel I ought to be doing something, which is nonsense. It’s as bad as Christmas. Anyway, I went along to the store to see what Harry was up to, but he wasn’t there. A lot of other people were there, though, and his poor mother was running round in circles doing his job and hers on one of the busiest mornings of the year. She was far too flustered for me to bother even to ask where Harry was. Anyway, she’s a pretty stupid woman, I think, or she wouldn’t let Harry spend so much time thinking about politics. If she was loyal to her class she wouldn’t stand for it. Well, I came out of the shop ready to be angry at the slightestopportunity, and the first thing I saw was one of my pupils, a particularly dim one at that, so I asked him with perhaps exaggerated care if he’d seen Harry. But of course he hadn’t, and he gave me a look as if to say I must be round the bend. Now if there’s one thing that really makes me angry it’s being treated as loopy by someone whom I know to be less intelligent than myself, so I gave him a gentle cuff over the ear and was about to move on when I saw that he was staring past me at something up the street.
Now our High Street, as well as being narrow, is straight. Jokes have been made about this which I do not intend to
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