I was woken at 6:30 by an irritatingly happy Ian, who seemed amazed that I didn't want to get up after only 2 hours sleep. Apparently, he had decided that we had to keep to some sort of fitness regime while we were on leave. His chattering about a 5 mile run/yomp before breakfast did not appeal, telling him to go fuck himself, I rolled over to go back to sleep.
Stumbling downstairs at 9.00 am, I saw that it was pouring with rain, looking at the black clouds I guessed it was going to rain for most of the day. I was surprised to see Dad sitting at the dining table on a Saturday morning as he rarely, if ever, missed Saturday overtime.
"Morning Dad, you ok, want a coffee?"
In response he held his right hand up, it was bandaged with some sort of plastic tube around his wrist.
"Severely sprained wrist and broken hand, just got back from casualty"
I was about to ask "how did you do that?" remembering the sound of him hitting the wall inches from my head, I thought I better keep quiet. Mum came into the room and gave us mugs of tea, checking that dads hand was ok, she went to the window. Seeing the worried look on her face,
"What's up mum, have we had a thunderstorm?"
"Am getting quite worried, Ian went out at 6:45, said he was going to run to next village. I asked him to pick me up some milk, bread and a paper for your dad. It's only 2 miles, he said he would be back by 7:30, his breakfast is ruined. Can you go out in the car and look for him? he might have had an accident."
I would have laughed that my mum was worried about the big Geordie, seeing the genuine concern on her face I went to get dressed. Coming down the stairs I heard a knock at the front door,
"Hello Ruth, sorry I am late. Got lost on way back."
As I came into the lounge, he was a sight to behold, dripping wet, his new combat trousers and shiny boots covered in mud. I couldn't help but laugh as he pulled a soggy paper, loaf of bread and a pint of milk from inside his tunic.
"You useless twat, where you been?"
It turned out that he had covered the relatively short distance to the shop easily. Seeing a track, he had decided, that some rough ground would give him a better work out and a slightly longer run. Being a city boy, he had no idea that tracks could go on for miles, he had started off heading for some woods that he knew were close to my parents home. Soon after he started up the track, it had started to rain, visibility was poor and he lost sight of the woods.
After about 2 miles he had seen a road on the right hand side, trying to jump the ditch he had ended up waist deep in water and up to his knees in mud. Getting onto the road he realised he was lost, there were no signposts or landmarks. Deciding to head, what he perceived as east, he scraped the worst of the mud off his legs and boots and set off down the lane. He had been running for a couple of minutes when he heard a motorbike coming down the Lane, standing in the road he flagged the rider down.
The rider an elderly man on an even older BSA C11 combination stopped and listened as Ian tried to explain where he wanted to go. I realised he must be talking to a man I knew as George. The thought of Ian, with his broad Geordie accent trying to talk to George, with a heavy Suffolk accent in the middle of a thunderstorm caused me to burst out laughing. From Ian's description, George had managed to figure out where he was staying. I can almost hear him saying.
"Oh right boy, you be staying with Jack an Ruth at Cow Row."
My parents cottage was known as Cow Row, after being built in the 11th century for the monks when they built the church. It had been used as farm buildings for several hundred years, latterly as a cow shed. Sometime in the 18th century it was converted into a row of 3 cottages. Declining a lift on the elderly motorcycle and promising him a pint in the Crown later, Ian had followed George's directions home.
Waiting for Ian to shower and change, mum gave me an old post office savings book. The account had been opened by my Granddad for me, years before. I had forgotten all about it. The balance of £590 meant I could pay mum back and insure the car, shouting Ian to hurry up I went to check the oil and water on the car.
Going to the Post Office in a nearby town, I transferred £100 to mums account and took £100 in cash. The car cost £46 to insure and I spent another £2 on a car wash and hoover out. Deciding we were hungry and thirsty we had a ploughman's lunch and a couple of pints in the White Hart. The pub was in the town where I had gone to school and I was soon chatting to an old class mate.
Turning to introduce Ian I saw him walking towards a woman I recognised, Martina, she was German, maybe Austrian. As I watched Ian started to chat to her and sat down on the chair adjacent to her. I had seen this before, when Ian got an idea in his head there was no stopping him. Casually watching Ian and chatting to my old school friends, my interest peeked as I saw Johnson walk into the pub. Johnson was the school bully and had made my life a misery, he was a year older and a lot bigger and stronger than me when we were at school..
As I watched him, it was obvious he hadn't grown much in the last 3 years or so. Looking at him I guessed I was now 20 lbs heavier and maybe 3" taller than him. Johnson had fairly long blonde hair, it irritated me the way he was always running his fingers through it and constantly combing it.
It turned out that Martina had changed her name and worked hard on her accent as she hated being called "That German or Kraut" she was now known as Rachel. Finishing our drinks Rachel asked,
"Ian, you wanna come back to my flat for coffee?"
