What Was I Thinking: A Memoir by Paul Henry Page B

machines was when he was running down the other people there. He used to sell these things like they were going out of fashion. He got as many knock-backs as everybody else but he knocked on a lot more doors.
    My mother came back about a year after me. We were a good team and it was only sensible for us both to be in the same place. It did take a bit of organising because even though I had been born in New Zealand she had not. 
    A telephone conversation with my mother
    (ring ring)
    O: Hello?
    P: Hi, it’s me.
    O: Oh good. What happened to you yesterday?
    P: I just got busy in the afternoon but I’ll come and see you this weekend.
    O: When?
    P: I’m not sure but I’ll definitely come and see you this weekend. I’ll ring you tomorrow. Have you had a good day?
    O: Oh well, we won the A and B quiz and we’ve got bocce this afternoon … now… (long pause where I roll my eyes and think, oh god, how long is this going to take?)
    P: Okay, so I’ll ring you tomorrow.
    O: … Now … (long pause where I roll my eyes and think, oh god, how long is this going to take?)
    P: Never mind, it doesn’t matter. If you can’t think of it, it can’t be important.
    O: No (pause). What was it?
    P: I don’t care what it was. I have to go but I’ll ring you tomorrow.
    O: Well I was talking to (pause), oh, you know.
    P: No, I don’t know and I don’t care and I have to go but I’ll ring you tomorrow.
    O: She’s on our floor.  
    P: Who?
    O: Oh, you know, what’s her name?
    P: I’m going now. I’ll ring you tomorrow, I love you very much, have a good night.
    O: Oh okay, I love you, I love you so much.
    P: All right. God bless.
    O: Bye then … Paul?
    P: What?
    O: I love you, you know?
    P: And I love you very much. You have a good night and I’ll ring you tomorrow and I’ll come and see you in the weekend maybe.
    O: All right, I love you, you take care … Are you all right for money?
    P: Yes, I’m very rich, remember? (old lady laughs)
    O: Oh, I’m very proud of you … drive carefully.
    P: I will. You take care, love you.
    O: Are you all right?
    P: Hang up or I will never talk to you again. (raucous laughter on both sides)
    O: All right, good night love. (it might not be night, doesn’t matter)
    P: Okay, bye, I love you. God bless. Bye, bye, bye. (hangs up on old lady)
    Because I liked the look of the place, I bought a building in Featherston and opened a cafe and arts and crafts shop called the Inkley Doovery Emporium. Inkley Doovery is a West Country name for something which has a specific purpose but is being used for something else, like a milk bottle that is being used to collect coins. It’s a very useful word.
    While I was still running it, I joined the Carterton Dramatic Society and went along out of the blue to audition for the part of Macbeth. Of course it was a clique and they had their Macbeth well and truly chosen, which is lucky because it was a much bigger part than I thought. I was Banquo in the end, and I was a damn good Banquo, but I didn’t want to be part of a clique. They socialised a lot, and I used to socialise with them a bit because I’d just moved there. I was a local businessman and I knew I had to get to know people. Maybe they’d come and buy a cake or a pie.
    Custom at the cafe was sporadic. But sometimes the whole shop would suddenly go dark in the middle of the day because a tour bus had pulled up, blocking the windows. ‘Oh fuck,’ I thought. ‘We’re going to need every spoon, cup and plate in the place. We’re really going to have to pull finger.’ I was there on my own, with my mum working for me part-time. So I had to ring around and get casual staff in if we got busy. We didn’t get many coaches, though, because the coach driver always wanted a free cup of tea and I didn’t want to give anyone a free cup of tea.
    I became a baker and I used to make cakes and they turned out very well. I made tomato soup from real tomatoes. Occasionally, it could get a bit Fawlty Towers .