Tableland by D. E. Harker Page A

time, despite my saying repeatedly, ‘Don’t mind me.’
    P.R. called me into his office at three o’clock to hear all about the building exhibition of last week and didn’t seem too pleased by lack of orders and, I may say, interest, shown to our stand.
    Gordon Brimcup breezed in for a minute to collect some more plywood samples, seemed in optimistic mood and said he was going to wrestling match on Wednesday night and had two tickets, and would I like to go?
    Was on the point of accepting kind offer, then realised that I would have to decline as it would be Julie’s mother’s first night with us and it might look a bit rude if I went out.
    Spent evening fixing up ancient folding camp bed in Trev’s room for him to sleep on during Bri’s visit as the beds from the sale were no good after all. Got cuff of sweater caught in it and large hole developed when I tried to jerk it away. Mistakenly pulled thread, whereupon half sweater sleeve frayed away. Julie furious as it was the one she had knitted for me last Christmas. Had words.
    â€˜You never liked that sweater, did you?!’
    â€˜Of course I do, I wear it often enough, don’t I?’
    â€˜Just so that you can wear it out more quickly.’
    After such stinging comments, I left Trev to get on with the bedroom arrangements then went for a walk around the block.
    Popped into the Cock and Bull for a quick jar to settle the dust and there was Steve, wearing a pair of white shorts and a white sweater.
    â€˜Good evening to you, Sire,’ he hailed me. ‘What’s your poison?’
    â€˜A pint of bitter, thanks,’ I replied. ‘Why the ‘whiter than white?’
    â€˜Squash, old boy – great game. Chap at the Round Wheel nominated me for membership at the new club. Only just got in.’
    We talked of this and that. Steve commiserated on hearing of mother-in-law’s visit, then he said something of immense interest.
    â€˜In June, the Round Wheel are thinking of having a gourmet evening to be organised by our president, Ken Dudgeon. Exact location top secret at the moment, but knowing Ken it’s bound to be a memorable function, so to speak. The point is, each member can bring along a guest, so how about it?’
    I replied, quick as a flash, ‘I’d be honoured, thanks a lot.’
    â€˜All relevant details later,’ said Steve. ‘Must pull up the anchor now, cheerio.’
    Felt much brighter as I wended my way home contemplating a gourmet evening… and a possible future entrée into the select membership of the Round Wheel!
    March 10th – Tuesday
    Had sandwiches in office for lunch today and tried to catch up on book work, despite constant distractions, like Trina and Mrs Lush having loud conversation about Trina’s current boyfriend, latest hairstyle, diet of tomatoes and prunes (which tip I shall pass on to Julie’s mother), new film on at the Odeon, etc., etc. and Avery making “confidential” telephone call in hushed voice, which made my ears flap trying to catch what he was saying – all to no avail, I might add. Think he did it just to annoy me, which it did. Was glad when he went out.
    After visit to washroom and a quiet fag, found two memos on my desk – one from Mr Prescott-Henderson which said that our regional sales manager, Mr Woodnut, who has recently been up to head office in Manchester, was bringing a Mr Hamish McTartan from British Columbia to see our set-up at 2.30 on Thursday and could I be available to show him round – signed with his usual illegible signature: D.P.H. The other badly-typed memo was more sinister and simply said, “The toilet is blocked, ring a plumber” and signed Avery. Who does he think he is?
    Never know how to address my mother-in-law. Her name being Nancy Brough, I started off by using the formal “Mrs Brough”, which developed into a jocular “Mrs B”. She once suggested I