Went for limping odyssey round the back of flats with Esther and Henry (ottoman dog). Henry kept sitting down and refusing to move. I suggested he could sit on top of sholley and I could push him along.
‘It’s a plan,’ Esther goes to me, ‘Trouble is, the poor soul’s too heavy to lift onto the sholley.’I gave her a hand to try and lift him but it was no good; dog weighs a ton.
Then, across the road, a youngish bloke comes running out a front door and he’s shouting:‘I’m not listening to another effing word.’
Then, a youngish lady’s head pokes out the top window and shouts down to the bloke:‘Don’t you effing think you can effing walk out on me.’
And the bloke shouts up to her:‘You just effing watch me.’ And he goes over to some ancient old motor, opens the door, gets in and slams the door.
Then, the lady’s head whips back in the window and you can just about hear her still effing and blinding.
Me, Esther and Henry are still standing there.
The man does a sharpish three point turn in the road, just as the lady comes tearing out the front door, shouting:‘You come back here, you fucker.’
But she’s too late cos he’s already driving off down the road.
So, she’s standing in the middle of the road, wearing her slippers and some sort of pajama-ings. And she looks over at us, and I thought, oh no, she’s going to think we’re just nosey parkering about the place. But she shouts over to us:‘He stole my fucking car keys.’
And Esther goes: ‘Oooh. Are you going to call the police?’And the lady goes: ‘Nah. I’m ringing his fucking mother.’
And she stomped off back into her casa.
It is more interesting to engage in physiotherapy around our neck of the woods, rather than at the National; most exciting thing that happens there is that someone gets stuck in some odd position and it takes three people to get ‘em upright.