26March1998

Thursday 26 March 1998,
My dear folks,

It is a grey, rainy London day. But since we need the rain and it serves to make the flat feel all the cosier, we can't say we mind. By we, I mean Jones, Mavis and me. Jones is dressing upstairs before she launches herself on a series of flat viewings on behalf of her nephew, Bevan. Mavis is curled into a furry ball in his customary spot on the couch, awaiting either a ray of sunshine or supper, whichever comes first, to tempt him down to the landing.

I am standing, peering through the window, talking to my computer and to you as I contemplate my final three shifts with the BBC and life thereafter. I have an early morning start on Friday, followed by two day-shifts over the weekend. On Monday we tidy up our lives and on Tuesday we drive to Portsmouth.

In the meanwhile, I am chasing the BBC in an effort to sort out my pension before my departure. The pensions dept is based in Cardiff where at a helpful lady assured me at the end of last week that the relevant correspondence was in the post. She meant the BBC internal post which, like the camel trains of old, takes its time. I must say that it does sound funny to be talking about "my pension" and to think of myself as a pensioner. Pensioners are the crinkly old folk, leaning on their walking sticks, who queue up in front of me in the Post Office for their weekly handouts when I am in a hurry to purchase stamps. Then they count it all twice before moving away from the counter. I suppose that like much in life, it’s a question of time.

The one bit of good news from the BBC was an unanticipated additional payment. They must be pleased to be getting rid of me. Until I received notice of this welcome titbit I had planned to take my laptop computer to the manufacturers to have it upgraded. It is 18 months old and, in computer terms, that is positively ante-diluvian. More to the point, it cannot cope with much of my software. As I pointed out to Jones, news of the additional cash was clearly intended by God as a sign that I should get a new laptop instead of an upgrade, one with all the latest bells and whistles. Jones, who is not as familiar with the divine mind as I am, didn't see it that way. She promptly set about dissuading me, insisting that my current model was quite powerful enough for all the things it needs to do.

She was joined in this campaign by Freglet who came up from Brighton yesterday to celebrate my imminent retirement. The three of us made our way to a pub that does excellent lunches for what proved to be a rather boozy meal. I confess that I speak on my own behalf. But as I remarked, we do not celebrate these occasions very often and, from time to time, they do not do too much harm. At £11 a bottle of wine, it’s a good thing too. It hurts when I think about it. That’s the kind of price we think of paying per case in Portugal.

Before I abandon the subject of computers, let me mention that the latest range of Dell Inspiron models seems very attractive. I have done a great deal of reading reviews of them on the Internet. But if anyone has any experience of them, I am all ears.

Last night we hired “The Full Monty” from the local library and sat down to watch after supper. I’d seen it before. Jones hadn’t. It was well done, sufficiently gritty to open one’s eyes to the realities of life on the dole. I’m sorry it didn’t do better at the Oscars. Strikes me that hometown fashion & fancy weigh heavily with the academy.

We heard a discussion beforehand of the five women nominated for the Best Actress award, four of them British and one American. The betting was that the American would get it, and so she did.

Thursday afternoon.

At that point, the door bell rang and one of my flat owners turned up for a working lunch to discuss the future management of her properties. The discussion was fruitful and the lunch pleasant, excepting the horribly smoky atmosphere in the little restaurant overlooking the canal. I had arranged to meet Jones at a flat about a mile away for a viewing after lunch. In the event I arrived late & after lingering hopefully at the entrance for 15 mins I hurried back to Shirland Road where I grabbed my bicycle and headed off for a second appointment about two miles in the opposite direction.

This time I found Jones waiting on the pavement. A young gentleman arrived in due course and conducted us up three dingy flights of stairs to a pokey little studio that was going for £72,000. The gentleman assured us that the owner was renting out the flat for £200 a week. We were as little impressed with his assertions as we were with the flat and, after thanking him for his kindness, we went our separate ways.

We walked back home where Jones again contacted the agent handling the first flat and arranged to take me straight around there. It proved to be a studio situated on the ground floor of an attractive and well-maintained ex-council block. The asking price is £50,000. One doesn’t find much in London at that price. The flat had its own entrance as well has the advantage of a separate kitchen and looked an altogether more attractive proposition. We have drawn it to Bevan's attention.

By the time we got home, we must have had a good eight miles under our belts and were ready for a cup of tea and the evening news. There’s been much coverage of the Canadian trip of the three princes, Charles, William & Harry. William has turned into a comely lad & has had to face the baying of the shriekies outside various venues in Vancouver. Scary stuff. Reminds me of the harpies who cluster, keening, around the BBC gates whenever some pop star arrives for a performance.

Rather less attention has been paid to the recovery of Princess Margaret from the stroke she suffered while on Mustique. As Private Eye put it, “Fat, rich woman not very ill”. She does not exactly rank high in the people’s affections and I suspect that Private Eye got just about right.

Will be down at the Quinta from April 3 to 16 and with Brendan in Witbank for about ten days from April 17. I then head back to London to tie up all the loose ends. I would hope to join Jones down in Portugal some time in June. Bevan will be staying in the flat in London during my absence.