THE LAST LAUGH
That long curfew walk
Knee surgery necessitated my Dearly Beloved to engage in regulatory exercises with a physiotherapist. After that annoying (to him) part was over, he was told to walk. Exercising was never a problem in his tennis playing days; but since that time is long gone, he isn’t what one would term an ‘exercise fiend.’
Accordingly, the daily walk up and down our lane was not a time of delight.
Every day, he was reminded at least three times that it was time for his amble. Eventually,
he began to quite like the walk, which was timed so that chatting to neighbours took up half the allotted walking time.
“You know that you must spend half an hour walking,” I told him.
“So I left the gate at 4.30 p.m. and now it is 5 o’clock,” he replied, primly.
“You spent 10 minutes of that time chatting to Hewa at the top of the road.”
“How do you know? I only asked him how his new puppy is doing.”
“Really, Daddy,” our offspring chimes in. “It’s your health, after all. Be responsible for yourself.”
DB gives a snort of exasperation. But then things got worse for him when curfew was declared, putting an end to strolls and chats. “No walk,” he noted, gleefully.
“Come on, Daddy – no policeman is going to arrest you for walking up and down a private lane.”
“I am not taking any chances, thank you very much! I’m a law-abiding citizen,” said DB virtuously, after having broken speeding rules to fill a magistrate’s docket.
Offspring and I remembered his surgery and its aftermath all too well. Since we were not about to disregard a doctor’s strict instructions, we cast about for alternatives.
It so happened that our living and dining rooms put together measures around 15 metres or some 55 feet. With the furniture pushed out of the way, DB now had a nice long stretch to walk up and down in the house. He wasn’t pleased but couldn’t find any acceptable excuses… so he resumed his daily walk inside with ill grace.
Alas! I lived to regret his walks inside the house. DB is a fanatically neat person and likes everything to be in its place. Even me, truth be told! He has been known to measure the distance between dining table chairs and even the space between table mats so they’re equidistant. He hangs towels perfectly aligned to each other. In short, he is a perfect nuisance – although one must admit this neatness has a few domestic advantages.
So he began his walk up and down two rooms, which he normally only looks at when visitors are due. The first day passed without incident. Our troubles began on the second day.
“Why are the glasses in the cabinet not in order?”
“Of course they are.”
“Nonsense! The small ones must be in front. The finger bowls on one side. The jugs...”
“Everything is according to sets for my convenience, not yours. I’m the one who arranges them after a dinner party.”
The next day, he got to the bookcase. “Why are the books not according to their heights? Put them in a nice descending order,” he told me authoritatively, pulling out Relative Merits, which had been autographed for me by the author.
“Take your interfering paws off those books instantly. They are organised according to authors and not size. In any case, books are my department and I’ll thank you not to meddle.”
But DB was not one to let circumstances spoil his enjoyment. His walk was now filled with music since he switched on the radio and cool air after turning on the air conditioning too. When no one was looking, he jived happily by himself to the pop music filling the room.
“So much nicer than the walk down the lane,” he said, beaming.
At least peace reigned!