Stan fell asleep in front of the roaring fire.Emile lay across his lap.Emile was so limp he looked like a wet towel casually over the old man’s knees.It was Stan’s birthday but no party had been arranged.He was struck that Mary had not baked a cake..nor even bought one at the Co-op.
That was no surprise really as he did all the cooking including Bakewell tarts and Xmas cake,He was a versatile man who could also mend old radios and fix clocks that were stuck one time….usually th wrong one!
He also spent quite a lot of time giving statistics lessons to pensioners and making love with his blonde and busty mistress,Annette who lived next door.
He decided that being so near her was a big advantage given his age.
Suddenly he was awakened by chuckles and giggles,There were Mary and Annette holding a big iced cake and a pot of tea.The doorbell rang and in came all Stan’s friends from his Art class.Mary produced sandwiches and pork pies,sausage rolls and potato cakes.
How did you do this ?,he enquired dazedly.
We did it all in Annette’s oven.She has two so it was quite easy.
Mary was not jealous of Annette for Mary would rather read Principia Mathematica than go to bed with Stan.Apparently she was mildly autistic but she was happy doing maths as many of her co-workers had the same syndrome.
She did have one daughter whom she found hidden in a gooseberry bush in the garden.This was enough for Stan as he was 92.But luckily he did have a good gold plated pension of £390.09 per month.
Everyone was having a fabulous time until Anne tried to light the candles on the cake.No matches could be found.
Ring 999,Stan called childishly.Mary obeyed and soon the ambulance drew up.In ran Dave the paramedic.
Is it your chair? he enquired wildly.
No,it’s this cake.We can’t light the candles on it.Shall we douse it in petrol?We have a jerry can full of it in the spare room.
That is very dangerous,he shouted.
Well,we are old now and need the car badly.Risk assessment gave us evens on the odds.Dave produced a silver lighter and lit the candles.Then he conducted them all as they sang,”Happy Birthday” to Stan.Stan managed to blow out 90 candles before passing out on the rug.
Well,at least he didn’t break the chair,Mary said philosophically.
I wish he had,said Dave.I’ve got some superglue here.
Well,we do have a wardrobe that’s falling apart.would you like to mend it?
Sure,he replied gratefully.This is why we have the NHS!
We are here for you 24/7
Or come to A and E if you get a mouth ulcer or a cold sore.No problem is too small!

Stan came to on the rug with Emile beside him.He gazed deeply into the cat’s green eyes.
I think I’ve fallen in love with you,he informed the Emile.
Will you sleep with me and let Mary have your basket.
Are we engaged,said Emile.
Definitely,said Stan.I’ll get you a golden collar with diamonds on it.
When shall we be married?
As soon as it’s legal,Stan answered honestly.
In the meantime,we’ll have to live in sin.
Then he fell asleep again with Emile in his arms.
What a lovely picture, cried the ladies.
Look at this.What a happy sight.
What love,what devotion.
How strange,what a commotion.
They’re in love,what emotion.
Don’t tell the Pope,we need caution

Mary woke up with a start,to see the big holly tree swinging from side to side in the wind.She was sleeping on the living room floor in a sleeping bag.As she had not been on holiday she  had decided to pretend she was on a camping trip.The weather was so unstable,to risk putting up the tent was not an idea she spent much time dwelling on or with.

Emile strolled  into the room and jumped onto her large and  supine body.Good morning, he cried loudly.

For goodness sake,Emile,please don’t shout.I feel fragile when I waken up.I am wondering if the  idea of camping at home is a mistake.For one thing,you would not be with me if I went to North Wales.And so I could lie peacefully until I decided to get dressed.But then I might miss you.

I’d miss you,mewed Emile.Can I not come with you when you go hill walking? I promise not to run away.Unless we see a tyger of wrath or a Chesire Cat.

We’ll have to see,Mary told him,her eyes gleaming like floodlit  lapis lazuli. in the night.I didn’t know you liked Blake’s poetry.Neither does he Emile replied languidly.

Mary struggled up and went to the bathroom for a quick shower.I suppose it is more comfortable camping at home,she said to Stan who was hovering over her head like a large  hornet looking for its nest as she wrapped a robe around her generous body

I don’t mind where you are ,he replied honestly.But if you were in Wales it would be hard for Dave to come to help you out.

So true,she answered casually.I’d better get dressed now.I’ll see you later,Stan.Mary ate her breakfast on a rug on the lawn in her nightdress..This saved her sweeping the crumbs up in the house or spilling food onto her clothes..She then decided to go to Bicester Shopping Village as that is what she used to do on holiday with Stan in former years.Stan was puzzled by why she wanted to shop.The thing was she  preferred quality clothes and could not afford them in the department store in Knittingham.In Bicester they had last year’s clothes for half price.Or even clothes from 2 or 3 years ago.

She put on a long tweed skirt and a pink  striped jumper over her  bright blue  roll neck top.On her feet she put soft blue suede boots.This wearing of boots at home dated back to the time when hse lived in a house with no bathroom and the lavatory was by the back gate.It had no light not lock but that was what people were used to then.

Sitting in the old green car,Mary watched her neighbour Tom cutting his hedge.Another job  for her to do or to arrange,or was she going to become one of those  people whose front gates fell off and hedges grew to trees after they suffered a bereavement?Not to mention those men who never change the pillow cases after their wives die.

She drove away slowly deciding to go to a Garden Centre instead of clothes shopping.After all who would see her clothes now?As long as she had a decent winter coat that would cover up her moth eaten knitted merino wool skirts and trousers and her over tight jumpers.Why not buy some flowers  like crocuses and daffodils in pots to put in the hall and living room to bring her back to the reality of life on earth?They were just as real as the horrors of war and troubled nations.What could Mary do to help?She might have worked as code breaker when young but her eyes were no longer good enough.

Mary rang 999 at tea time.Can you send Dave round.My new plants look a bit unhealthy.And ask him to buy some milk on the way,please.Make it quick as I need a nice cup of tea made the way he does it.Thank you.Maybe I’ll phone Annie,she murmured before humming Nessun Dorma to herself.I wonder if I could write lyrics for a pop star,she thought pensively.Or buy a  guitar and sing my own songs.Is the guitar hard to learn,she pondered.Maybe it’s good for the fingers.But the neighbours might not like it.A violin would be even worse!