No Sausages in Hastings

Sunday 11th March 2018

I telephoned from the Official Car (with Xenon Driving Lights) to tell Val it was running late for Hastings. The bed linen surplus to requirements I was going to give Val plus the other bed linen for mending to be done in Hastings got left behind. So it was to be a 12.30 arrival. There was hope of the sausages though. In fact Val even mentioned them in the course of the telephone call from the Official Car as it made its way to Hastings well before the luncheon hour. Finally the Official Car entered Val’s John Travolta Memorial tarmac area (big enough to park a jumbo jet, a mode first established by John Travolta at his celebrity mansion in America whose whole feeling is ‘airport building’ what with the taxi-ing and parking area around the house and then the runway itself of course).

Val said, ‘Would you like some cake? I made it myself.’ Well, it was nearly lunchtime, but I said, ‘Yes.’ Then we looked in Val’s pin-box; then we looked in his nail-box. We assembled a little collection in a self-sealing plastic bag which I popped into my hand-bag – some moulding pins to help re-attach the strip of moulding that came off the Gay Mother’s drawing-room desk when the plumber moved it before Christmas. The other thing: yes! Val did have them in stock – I noticed one missing you see in one of my bedrooms. The matlase chair Val re-upholstered over six months a year or two ago. The whole exercise cost £600.  One of the decorative studs (scalloped heads) Val used to mark the cloth’s boundary with the wood was missing. But Val had got them in stock ! He donated five to me, Adrian Edge.

So as far as scallop-headed upholstery pins are concerned, I should have enough to last me all my days, be they long or short.

Then Val began to speak of Bexhill, where the B&Q is. But I was wondering about the sausages: they weren’t even started and I know Val likes them well-done. It was nearly 2 o’clock. Was there not to be a luncheon option of any kind, even if sausage-free? It seemed not. The Official Car set out for Bexhill, with us in it. Turning onto the main road, Val pointed out the Co-op: ‘That’s where I got the sausages,’ he said. ‘It was a two-for-one offer. So I’ve got two packs. I suppose I could put one in the freezer.’

I didn’t comment but forged onto to Bexhill. People we know saved the Bexhill Hill Pavilion. So it was suitable we should go to it. I nearly died in the car park crawling in a state of starvation towards luncheon there, dreading the service would have been discontinued. It hadn’t and we lunched more than adequately. The pavilion was looking better than the last time I saw it when it had been saved but was purposeless. The sun was coming in, unfortunately, showing up smears. These modern buildings have too many windows. On the Art Deco stairs we saw some real fur coming in, which would have upset Reggie Cresswell, although I doubt he would have committed an outrage.

Then we took B&Q Bexhill. Or is ‘B and Q’? It’s a sea-side branch. Car park quite pleasant. Val bought a lawn-mower. I got some tile adhesive and grout in one to repair where the mosaic tiles came off during the re-styling of the electric sockets in my kitchen. The product turned out to be useless. Returning to Hastings seemed to mean a return to sausages: ‘We could have the sausages this evening,’ Val declared. ‘One of the packs at least. The other I’ll put in the freezer.’ ‘Oh, but I’m going to Genevieve Suzy’s Hastings branch this eve,’ I said. ‘Why don’t you come too? We might have fish and chips.’ But no, Val preferred to remain in. Perhaps sausages were his main object.

I gained Genevieve Suzy’s Hasting branch, or volcano in fact, perched on the cliff-top  with tremendous magma underneath. In the kitchen Genevieve was not yet dangerous: only harmless smoke was emitting. ‘What about Merle Barr’s 60th birthday in the Chinese restaurant?’ she began at once. ‘I mean, who’s paying? Her brother’s paying for her. So what are the rest of us supposed to do? Sit there and watch the spectacle.’ I mumbled and murmured. I hadn’t really thought about it, let alone prepared for an eruption scenario. There was a sudden banging in the kitchen where Genevieve was, a crashing of metal to the floor. It could have been some kind of pre-tremor, before the molten lava blasted forth. Lord Suzy rushed in: it was almost ‘Women and children out,’ but not quite.

We all knew there isn’t much you can do with a volcano. We preceded to Angus and Fergus’s cottage (without the walls of Hastings despite the Tudor House being in Hastings) for a late lamb dinner (Iranian inspiration with dried limes. Let’s make dried limes the key-note foodstuff of the Poor Little Rich Gay summer). Genevieve Suzy said we were leaving but we didn’t leave. Some hours later, when I, Adrian Edge, asked if we were leaving, she said certainly not. A few hours after that she announced that she wasn’t leaving at all but I and Lord Suzy were. It was 3 in the morning at least. Angus and Fergus were to provide her with a bed at once. In fact Angus and I had been snoozing in armchairs wrapped in rugs for hours so one was perfectly comfortable.

Lord Suzy and I had to find the taxi in a wood in the dark. Had it not been there we’ve have died, I suppose. Or been eaten by bears.

Back at the Genevieve Suzy’s Hastings branch I managed to get a few hours sleep before activities resumed in the morning with the return of Genevieve Suzy from the cottage.

Val's Scallop-headed Upholstery Pins:  A Life-Time Supply from Val's Stock for my Bedroom Chair which Lost one of These Pins

Val’s Scallop-headed Upholstery Pins: A Life-Time Supply from Val’s Stock for my Bedroom Chair which Lost one of These Pins


Posted Sunday, March 11, 2018 under Adrian Edge day by day.

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