Margaret and Dick went to see relatives who were having a few days near Settle., North Yorkshire.
‘Oh lovely,’ said Margaret. ‘It’s a bit like a day out in a charabanc.’ Dick said, ‘No, we’re going in the car. Let’s toss to see who drives, and who sits in the back between Rosie and Polly.’
Things grew tense. Margaret drew the short straw. She put on her sea sickness travel bands, took a pill, and settled down in between the two dogs, on the back seat. Off we went, with Sally the Sat Nav being bossy and telling them how to get out of their own road. Margaret doesn’t like sitting on the back seat. Margaret feels sick and dizzy going along roads with curves. A friend’s father used to say the a road is like a woman, its beauty lies in its curves. Margaret didn’t like her friend’s father after that. Curves are her enemy.
The road to Settle is curvey. The dogs whinged. They always whinge in the car, while Margaret got busy telling Dick that there was a roundabout coming up. Dick said, ‘Stop talking. It’s big. How can I not see it?’
Margaret whispered to herself, ‘Well you didn’t see that roundabout 25 years ago, and that was big too.’
That time Margaret shouted just in time. A narrow squeak like that shakes a girl. Dick doesn’t understand, so Margaret doesn’t explain, yet again, because she is too busy waiting for the next junction, the next roundabout, when her warning will be needed. And still the dogs whinge.
It is a very pretty road. It takes 90 minutes. Margaret was not feeling very well, the dogs were still whingeing, Dick was fed up with Margaret helping him to drive. At last they arrived. Such a treat, a lovely lunch, a glass of wine, and suddenly Margaret didn’t mind that she had drawn the short straw for the drive back. because driver Dick had to have water. Sparkling water, but still water.
Then a nice walk with the dogs, and the rellies. Dick and Margaret walked a little ahead at one point. Margaret told Dick of the taxi ride from Newcastle to Bowness. where she and her group would start their Hadrian’s Wall Walk. It was a big taxi and took the six walkers, the taxi driver (of course) and the guide.
Margaret’s friend asked how Margaret’s broken shoulder was these days, with its pins and plates, and wotnot. ‘Are there any lingering problems?’ she asked. Margaret told her that the only problem was that she had to wear a big bumbag, not a rucksack, because she didn’t like anything pressing on the top of her shoulder – it hurt.
‘I even wear a floppy sort of sports bra, that doesn’t pull on the shoulder.’ Margaret said. Her friend asked, ‘Is there any point in wearing it, if its floppy,’ Margaret said, loudly she realised later. ‘ Well, yes, or else I’d have to tuck the little dears in my waistband.’ There was a sort of stricken silence in the taxi. Even the taxi driver stopped talking. and he hadn’t seemed to draw breath since they left, so busy was he chatting.
As Dick and Margaret walked along this very lovely lane near Settle, Dick said, ‘Please tell me you did not say that?’
Margaret said, ‘Dicky, I cannot tell a lie: indeed I did.’ (much in the way of George Washington to his father.) Mr Washington praised George for his honesty. Dick sayid, ‘You really should stop talking more often.’
Margaret sulked. as they walked along, in silence.
Today Dick looked at the photos that the rellies had sent. ‘My word,’ he said. ‘Look at your round shoulders.’
‘I was busy telling you about the taxi ride, and leaning forward, earnestly,’ said Margaret.
‘Even so, best to straighten those shoulders, and stick out your chest.’ Too late he realised they were almost back to the taxi and the waistband.
Of course, Margaret had to say it again. Well, one does, doesn’t one.
