“When simple is more than enough, you will feel happy more than enough!”
Mehmet Murat Ildan
Taken from this month’s Trumpit out now.
With the doors shut tight on our local watering hole, how would we keep ourselves entertained over the coming weeks, maybe months? As the first Sunday night in extremis approached, reality began to bite, I swear my body began to automatically make its way out of the house and up the road, lips licking at the prospect of a few cold ones.
Luckily, we had a plan! Five Pints had suggested we have a virtual Sunday night in by way of something called Zoom. It had only been a few years since I had been forcibly separated from Nokia; the world was moving far too quickly. In truth, many Sunday nights have ended up virtual, one too many, far too often.
So, at the appointed hour, I clicked into this brave new world and all of a sudden up popped a screen with me peering out of it, this was weird. Next came another with a fat bloke holding a beer but it wasn’t Big Al, he was far too smart. Somehow, I’d turned up in Brazil which was a feat given I’d only wanted to go up the road.
The bloke looked bemused but everybody understands a thumbs up and “Speako English?” He introduced his wife, a pretty young thing with a glass of red, laughing uncontrollably at this ridiculous situation. His night looked to have better prospects than mine. We exchanged pleasantries until he fobbed me off only for another couple to pop up.
They were from Portsmouth and already three sheets to the wind; I wished I’d bought shares in one of the big drinks companies. Meanwhile my phone was buzzing, my real mates anxious that I was lost in space or worse for wear. By now my lack of patience with the world of technology had won out and I canned it for the night, back to Binge TV. Try again next week.
One week later and this time a success of sorts. Five Pints appeared wearing a sensible choice of earphones to drown out Big Al’s profanities less Mission Control reassess the company her man kept. Up popped Uncle Andy, the kitchen light bouncing like the night stars off his recently shaved head. His wife Julie staggered briefly by in the background with a family bag of Doritos and a bottle of Prosecco under her arm. “Don’t be late…you’re on a promise!” He turned pale and prayed quietly for social distance and a quick end to the lockdown.
Patch logged on looking like Captain Ahab, fifty shades of grey covering his chubby cheeks. I’d heard of PPE shortages but not razors but Big Al was still nowhere to be seen or heard. All of a sudden he appeared but no sound; it was like a silent movie. I liked this new version of him much better.
Suddenly, the picture froze and it looked like his last moments on this Earth had been captured, a bullet between the eyes, a fixated stare, sat there as if someone had stolen his beer.
As far as behaving and staying put, it looked like Big Al was onside with Boris unless his bottle opener broke. Finally, he was restored to life – sort of – and we could sit back and enjoy the allotted forty minutes of Zoom time, the conversation flowing like long-lost lovers. We’d barely finished with the greetings before the big man soon hobbled off to get another beer – his regular Sunday habit of “sliding one” – returning to howls of laughter as he’d stuck it in the freezer for a bit longer than intended.
In desperation, he turned it upside down and started to rub the bottleneck like a Genie, urging amber liquid to flow. With no immediate results, he fixed his lips around the bottleneck like a new born lamb to its mother’s teat and suckled madly, making a disturbing low moaning sound. Several wives came to check what their men were watching as the baa-baa of Big Al came out of several laptops. Confident that Big Al was not making his porn debut they quickly vanished again.
Forty minutes flew by despite there being a complete absence of the regulars to take this piss out of. What would Rose and Patrick be doing? “I wonder who Donny is with tonight?” lamented Uncle Andy referring to the regular companion of The Odd Couple “It’d be lovely to hear Puppy Love!” In the background Julie was singing “We’ll meet again….” as she wandered past in her Fire Service uniform, hurling Doritos into the air like ticker-tape.
How wonderful to have seen Mick the Quiz wander into someone’s kitchen, question sheet under his arm, set to tease us once again? I would not have even minded sitting up straight on my sofa to accommodate the typically late arrival of The Fishermen: – “shift up there’s a good lad” Arthur would mumble “is it your round too? Good evening Geoffrey!”
Soon our forty minutes had zoomed by. Not ready to “go home” just yet, Five Pints managed to negotiate another forty minutes—this really was just like Sunday nights! The following week we added a third session as Patch devoured a fresh bag of snacks each one.
Judging by his size, several more weeks of this and he’ll have to widen the patio doors to get out.
News that Zoom was hosted in China, meaning both they and GCHQ could listen in on us did not seem as big a worry as the reality that Big Al was classified a key worker. Oblivious to his country needing him, down went another beer. In the blink of an eye it was lights out, all out. Julie crawled by on all fours with yet another bottle of Prosecco as Uncle Andy viewed the camp bed in the conservatory and Patch found yet more Scampi Fries.
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