A dog, a monkey and a too fat cat
MONDAY 11AM
I look at the list I’d made at the beginning of lockdown of all the things I’d now have the time to finally throw out — a lifetime’s accumulation of clutter. It hasn’t gone well.
It turns out that inanimate objects have a mind of their own; they’ve simply refused to leave.
I’ve spent weeks going through mountains of papers, books, records and memorabilia. But my primary school certificate recording my 4th place in the hurdles at the 1958 West London Schools Athletics Finals still stands proudly on the table next to my 1960 end of year report: “Rosengard’s charm is only exceeded by his total lack of concentration.” I thought that was good. My parents weren’t persuaded.
I’ve still got the life size monkey who is now at home in the jungle of twelve towering palm houseplants I ordered in my first ever online shopping adventure in lockdown week two. All I’d wanted was a Nespresso machine. Thirty minutes later I’d bought 12 palm trees, a five foot lantern for my roof deck table (I thought it said five nches), a machine that measures your oxygen level and 50 pairs of boxer shorts — they were on sale.
MONDAY 2PM
I’m walking in St James’s Park when a young man runs by. “Stop him! He’s just stolen a woman’s phone!” somebody shouts.
I immediately leap into action and call 999.
“Thank you for calling, sir! It’s been really quiet since lockdown. We’ve only had a missing cat all morning. A stolen phone? Wow! I’ll send a squad car right away.”
Three minutes later two police cars with four policemen arrive.
MONDAY 8.15PM
Sitting on my roof deck having dinner, I drop the large candle I’m just putting into the very tall lantern. It falls fifty feet, almost decapitating (de-candlepating?) my neighbour in the basement flat who was walking on her patio.
TUESDAY 2.30PM
I go on my Vespa to a local pet shop. go in with my mask and crash helmet still on.
“Have you got some cat poo bags please?”
“Sorry, we’ve only got dog poo bags,” a woman says. She has no mask.
“I don’t think he’ll spot the difference. Why aren’t you wearing a mask?”
“I’m the owner.”
“We’re in the middle of a pandemic!”
She comes towards me. “Stay back! Two metres! No closer! Don’t make any sudden moves,” I say as I pay contactlessly..
“OK, now slide the poo bags slowly towards me on the floor please.”
I pick them up in my gloved hand and back out of the shop.
WEDNESDAY 11.30AM
I drive over to meet my friend Glenn to walk along the towpath on the Grand Union Canal in Brentford.
A man was at a lock tying up his houseboat.
“Good afternoon, how deep is the canal? Two to three feet?” I ask. “I’m busy, mate,” he says. “Four feet?”
“Get lost!”
“Well excuuuuse me! Who’s got out of his tiny bunk, in his tiny cabin, on the wrong side this morning! Claustrophobic in there is it, mate? We’re in the middle of a global pandemic. We’re all in this together, remember?”
“You’ll be in it by yourself if you don’t f***off!” he says.
A hundred yards further along the towpath, a very large aggressive looking pitbull terrier is coming towards us, barely restrained on his leash by his owner.
“What a lovely dog,” I say. “You see that houseboat in front of you? He loves dogs. Why don’t you let him him off his leash?” I kept walking… a little faster.
8PM
My American neighbour, Diane, who lives one flight down, has been ordering all my food since lockdown, tells me she’s going back to live in the US, taking her two cats Peaches and Patches home with her. How am I going to survive?
THURSDAY MIDNIGHT
After a late dinner on the roof deck, I decide to go back downstairs to watch TV in the flat.But the door won’t open. After 15 minutes of charging at the door, I remember ‘downstairs Diane’ has my spare flat keys. A sleepy voice answers the phone. “I’m stuck up on the roof. Please can you come up and try to force open the door?” Five minutes later, Diane appears, turns the handle and opens the door. Don’t ask! How am I ever going to manage without her?
SATURDAY 6.13PM
Diane calls me. She’s meant to be leaving tomorrow for New York.
“They won’t let Peaches fly,” she says.
“Why not?”
“They say she’s too fat to fly. I’m having to cancel our flights. So l’ll be here for another month. She’s got to go on a diet.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Peaches and I will be dieting together. I’ll have food for another month .