Yes busy all day and a long day at that, we stretch ourselves to breaking point, but we know people won’t survive without us.
Why do I do this job? No day’s the same, never time to get bored, sometimes the load is very heavy, other times light.
We used to chat, but now we have to keep our distance. The good side of that is we can work quicker, we need to work quicker.
No I haven’t, I pride myself in never making mistakes, make sure I have read the instructions properly. We can’t afford to make mistakes, this is people’s lives we are dealing with.
I do ring the bell, I know some aren’t bothering now we don’t have to get a signature. It’s heart breaking knowing people want to talk, desperate to see another human being, they call out, trying to thank us, pitiful, but I’m already on my way to the next person.
No I don’t feel exploited and I certainly don’t want do-gooders boycotting the company. I need to earn money and I like being out on the road, by myself, out of the house.
Yes I have, four, the wife deals with all the home schooling, another reason I enjoy my work.
Vital? Of course, where would you all be without your Amazon deliveries?
I logged in on my dashboard computer – Friday 15th January 2040. I was getting a new work experience person today. It didn’t matter what day of the week they started, we worked seven days a week and every day was the same, though today was going to be rather different. Their name was Hope, sixteen years old, no idea if they would be a boy, girl or other, I would have to wait and see how or if they self identified. Dressed in biohaz suits it was difficult to tell, so it didn’t much matter. What sort of name was Hope; parents must have been optimistic, must have been optimistic in the first place to have a baby in 2024.
‘Good morning Hope, welcome to the team, what the hell made you want to try this job?’
‘To get away from home, get outside.’
‘They all say that, outside’s not all it’s cracked up to be, every day’s much the same, but I have to tell you we have an NR7 to deal with first today, did they tell you about that in your on line induction?’
‘Nope, don’t think so, wasn’t really listening…’
‘I thought not, well you can back out now, it might not be very nice.’
‘No way, I’d have to go to the back of the jobs queue.’
‘NR7 means No Response for seven days, weekly food parcel still on front path and housebot has set off the alarm – no signs of life detected. We have to go in, it’s almost certain resident is dead, probably of old age.’
‘Whaat…’ came the gruff exclamation through their mask voice box.
‘I’ve seen a few cases. Rich relatives paid or bribed for them to be exempt from the euthanasia programme, unkindest thing they could have done, but I guess years ago they thought this would all be over and Granny would come round for tea again.’
‘Why would you want your Granny to come round, when you could see her on Omegazoom?’
‘So she could play with her grandchildren… oh never mind, let’s get on with this. According to our records all her family predeceased her, otherwise they would have notified us that she was not responding.’
Hope gazed out of the window of my solar powered vehicle as we turned into the ‘Granny’s’ street.
‘I’ve never been down a street before, we live in a tower block, those gardens look so pretty, how do they get them all the same?’
‘Gardenbots, programmed to create the sort of garden the average person wants to look out on. Ah, here we are, Click and Collect food box still out on the front path, regulation two metres from the front door. Only time residents are allowed out; to click on the box, collect it and take it indoors, but obviously you know all that.’
‘Yes, I always volunteer to go out in the corridor and collect ours.’
‘NR7 is the only time we are allowed to enter a private home, I had to sign out the entry device, let’s hope it works.’
I pointed and pressed the button and it showed entry code overridden. I pushed at the front door, but it didn’t give easily; we soon saw why and I thought my other half had a lot of pot plants. It was like a jungle, not that I have ever seen a jungle. Through the leaves emerged a four foot angular housebot. It was no use asking it what had happened, one of the outdated models that didn’t speak, programmed only for house maintenance, not companionship. It didn’t need to speak, I knew at this very moment it would be signalling back to base, alien human life detected. I quickly tapped my wrist phone to register with base my arrival here.
‘Okay Hope, I’ll go first into each room, starting with the front room.’
Obviously the housebot was programmed to stay out of the little old fashioned sitting room; in the corner was the skeleton of a tree, beneath it a carpet of dead pine needles and under that thick dusty layer could just be discerned some grey shapes that had once been Christmas parcels.
Hope pointed in horror as if this might be the body we were looking for.
‘What is thaat?’
‘It was once a Christmas Tree.’
‘A what?’
‘Before your time, a relic from the last Christmas of 2020.’
I felt a lump in my throat. I remembered that last Christmas. We never did go round to Granny’s to have a ‘proper Christmas when things are better’ – it seems I was not the only child who didn’t get Granny’s presents that year.
We moved through the kitchen, all neat and tidy; the housebot would have cleared away any clues as to when the resident had last eaten. Out in a little conservatory was another housebot free area, the plants had run riot and on a table covered in cobwebs, a closer inspection revealed a half built Lego set, like I used to play with. But the smiling faces of the Lego people could not be seen under the thick coat of dust.
‘Wouldn’t she have been a bit old to be playing with Lego?’
‘I imagine that was the last time her grandchildren came round, she left the Lego out ready for them to play with next time, but next time never came.’
But Hope wasn’t listening, they had wrenched open the filthy patio door to gaze in wonder at the back garden and it was a wonderful display of colour to cheer us up. The rich relatives must have paid out an endowment long ago for a personal gardenbot.
Reluctantly I lead the way upstairs, the worst part of our job was still to come. I pushed open the bedroom door and there she was, lying tucked up in bed, the blank Omegazoom screen at an easy to see angle beside her. I wondered when was the last time she had spoken to anyone on the screen.
‘Well Hope, you should get your parents to check in to the home bidding, there will be a house and garden available in a week or so.’
‘Do you think we stand a chance, a real garden I could go out into?’
‘Tell them to get in quick before everyone else hears about it.’
Cassie felt deflated, empty, tired. She tried to summon up the positivity that had kept her going since March, but a new year was not going to bring a new start for anyone. It was no consolation that more of England had joined them in Tier 4, lockdown in all but name. She knew she was lucky to have a job and a home, didn’t have to do home schooling or shop for elderly parents, but the positives she had nurtured this year seemed to be fading away.
Christmas Day had been good, as if her presence had made it easier for Sam and his long lost son to talk, telling her things about their lives that they hadn’t told each other. She had found herself smiling several times; Christmas 2019 spent alone and this Christmas spent with a homeless man and a runaway teenager. Now her little house seemed too quiet, though she had been glad enough of the peace on Christmas night after the two of them and the dog had clumped off on their way.
She would be more than happy to have them as regular visitors, but Christmas had been one day of freedom for Britons; now it was back to having no visitors, no visiting. Even her regular walks with Sam and his dog had ceased; the new rule was meet only one person outside your household, outside and Sam’s long walks were now with his son. Though James had done well getting the MPJ building as suitable as possible for his clients, it was a roof over their heads, not a home for a father and son. Sam was keeping Lucas out and about as much as possible, desperate to keep him from getting bored or depressed and doing a reverse runaway back to Scotland and the comforts of his step father’s highland estate.
Cassie could no longer visit the MPJ homeless project, even with the careful Covid regime James had set up. He was all too aware, as he never ceased to point out, how vulnerable some of his little group of homeless were, nor did he want any possibility of the project being blamed for an increase in cases in the town.
She was still working from home, management were pleased with her team, but would they all keep their jobs in the long term with the double blow of Covid and Brexit? Work was hard, not at all the easy lounging in pyjamas outsiders might imagine. Supervising her team was difficult; she was propping some of them up, carrying them. The continual ups and downs of what she assumed was normal busy parenthood, doubled in stress with parents worried every time a child coughed or felt a bit hot; Covid tests, waiting for results, keeping children home in isolation, whole classes being sent home because one child had a positive test, schools closed with teachers ill…
She was jolted out of her glum mood when her mobile buzzed, she was surprised to see it was James calling, wanting to Facetime and get some advice. How long since they had chatted on line? She was never sure if he had been disappointed that their spring on line friendship had not developed into anything more, when they got the chance to meet up for real. But now she was pathetically grateful for the chance to have a chat on this lonely New Year’s Eve.
March seems so long ago now, but we first met Cassie in a queue for the chemist…
Doris was agog with curiosity. Who were the two big chaps that turned up next door on Christmas morning, just when Doris happened to be looking out of her front window… and that big shaggy dog? Cassie had said a friend from work was coming for Christmas Dinner and might bring his teenage son… Her young neighbour had no need to ring or knock to check Doris was okay as she knew her cousin was staying, but she could ring and thank Cassie for the chocolates…
‘Hello Cassie, did you have a nice Christmas? Thanks so much for the chocolates, Cousin Ruth’s favourites… yes I’m so glad she came, we have had a laugh, just like when she used to come and stay in the holidays when we were children… That’s what my nephew said, makes sense; Ruth’s little flat was perfect till we went into lockdown, she was always out and about, but this year it’s been like a prison… Yes she likes the back bedroom, looking out onto the garden and hearing the blackbirds… No we’re fine thanks, Ruth’s more tech savvy than me and my nephew’s doing our on line shopping … well I do wonder what on earth he thinks we like to eat, but now we’re in Tier 4 it’s so scary and he’s forbidden us to go to the shops.
Yes we did, later in the day when they were awake in Los Angeles. Ruth’s got an eye pad or whatever you call those things you open up, I daren’t touch the thing, but she got us on Facetime, so amazing, mind you it is fifty years since they landed on the moon and we thought we would be living on the moon by now. Thank goodness we’re not, otherwise my son would probably be there instead of the USA… but the children have grown, even since I saw them in the summer.
So what did you have for your dinner… pork… oh, so he wasn’t a little lad then… did you have enough food, a vegetarian, oh dear, no of course that’s quite common these days, but a bit of a problem if you’re having roast pork. He did like the geckos then… but the geckos didn’t like them… not surprised they were nervous having two big blokes and a dog clumping round your little front room and bumping into the glass; ‘vibrating vivarium’ ahh, making fun of you poor little reptiles…
Where do they live … Scotland, oh goodness, it’s a wonder Nicola Sturgeon let him out and she probably won’t let him back in… you mean really ran away, what about his mother? …no I suppose you couldn’t really pry, but what an interesting life you lead. What are you doing today?… A bicycle ride, are you allowed, I get so muddled up when we keep changing Tiers, not that Ruth and I are likely to go out on our bikes, perhaps I should get one of those electric ones. You can go out for exercise and meet only one person, I suppose your ‘friend’ will be busy with his son…
Cassie though it ironic that she had spent last Christmas Day alone and now when everyone else was facing Christmas alone she was having two guests for Christmas lunch, three if you counted the dog. When she had invited Sam the rule had been three households for five days, but Boris had changed all that on Saturday. They were still in Tier 2 so she didn’t think they were breaking any rules; Christmas Day only and no overnight stays, but she hadn’t bargained for Sam’s long lost son turning up. Even in pre Covid days this would have been quite a drama. But there was no question of him being sent back to Scotland, would he even be allowed back in? Nicola Sturgeon, First Minister, did not want anyone entering or leaving Scotland. Sam had insisted Lucas ring his mother, so she could call off the frantic search round their huge highland estate, but more to ensure future prospects for cooperation.
Sam was thrilled with the turn of events, he felt he had a connection already with his sixteen year old son. Cassie could not see things in such a positive light, Sam was a long way from being able to provide a stable home for a teenager who still had two years of school ahead, but it was not her place to say anything. Of more immediate concern was meeting Lucas. As an only child brought up by her aunt and sent to a girls’ school she knew nothing about teenage boys. Doris next door had reassured her all she had to do was treat him like a normal human being and perhaps he would be interested in her geckos.
Now as she looked at the time and checked the oven she wondered if Sam had heard the latest news; at one minute past midnight on Boxing Day they were going to enter Tier 4. Any positivity she had felt about the pandemic or her own little life seemed to be fast fading in recent weeks, a new strain of Covid, worrying statistics…
The doorbell rang and as she opened it she was taken aback to see a broad shouldered young man taller than Sam, standing behind him.
‘Cassie, this is Lucas.’
For some reason she had imagined a smaller version of Sam, pale, quiet and nervous, an unhappy runaway; so she was further surprised when he greeted her enthusiastically in a booming baritone Scottish accent.
‘Lunch smells nice.’
‘It’s just a little pork joint,’ Cassie apologised ‘I’ve never cooked a turkey in my life.’
‘That’s okay, didn’t Sa…. my father tell you I am vegetarian?’
As the final weekend before Christmas looms, in this strange year, with everyone still unsure what they are doing and young and old trying to sooth ruffled feelings, because they are not visiting or being visited, let us eavesdrop through today’s window as Everygran tackles her early Christmas present, an ipad, and attempts Facetime. There is nothing wrong with her technical skills, but confusion reigns supreme.
All I can see is the ceiling.
Tommy, give Mummy the phone back, no don’t hit your brother with it. Sophie darling, you can watch Frozen when we’ve finished talking to Granny, are you going to tell her what you did at nursery?
Hello Sophie… nothing? Oh I’m sure you did something nice. Oh dear, who bit you?
It wasn’t exactly a bite was it… do you want to show Granny the card you made… no we don’t put Christmas cards in the recycling bin yet. Tommy, get down off the piano. No, I said turn the television off Sophie, of course you are not bored, you like talking to Granny. Hang on Mum, I just have to rescue the cat and put Toby on the potty. Mandy, Maaandy I said come downstairs and talk to Granny.
Hello Tommy is that the Lego we bought you for your birthday? Umm is it a truck, oh a dinosaur. Do you like your new sch… oh where have you gone, back to a view of the ceiling.
Good boy Toby shall we tell Granny you managed to do a p… no… don’t pick the potty up, just talk to Granny while I go and empty… nooo TOBY … sorry Mum, just got to clear a bit of mess up. Maandyyy will you get down here and sort your brother out … in the kitchen I think, make sure he doesn’t go near the hot oven and can you let the dog out.
Hello Toby, are you looking forward to Christmas, Toby, Toby leave the cat alone, Mummy will be back in a second, no I don’t think the cat likes doing Facetime, no Toby don’t squash his…
Sorry about that Mum, now about Christmas, we still can’t decide what we should do, would you be very disappointed if we don’t come, we have to think of what’s best for you and Dad.
Well your Dad would be quite happy having a quiet Christmas and they are advising us not to have people staying overnight, don’t you worry about us…
Mandy, come and say hello to Granny, you might not see her at Christmas.
But will I still get my presents?
Mandy! Tell Granny about your school’s Nativity video, Mandy, where are you going now?
No, you’re right Mum, we can’t leave you and Dad all by yourselves and you don’t want all that stress of trying to post the parcels, will you be alright doing a big on line order with Sainsburys? Mandy… answer the door for Mummy, sorry Mum , gotta go, it might be that Amazon parcel … Tommyyy don’t let the dog out the front door…
At least Covid 19 meant no children knocking at the door this year. My own ten year old had gone to her friends’ house to do Halloween and my husband was picking her up after his shift finished. We were still medium risk in our area and no one in Maya’s class had tested positive, but it might be the last time she could see friends if we were heading for a second lockdown. Anyway, I was going to leave the television and radio off and read my new book. I did not want to hear any Covid news.
Two pages in and I was startled by the door bell ringing frantically. How annoying, Maya and her friends must be playing a joke.
I opened the door to see a pale very solemn child standing there, peering from beneath a hood. Her costume and acting were rather good. I peered over her head; the street light by our front gate revealed no parent or older sibling looking out for her.
‘Are you out on your own?’
‘I’m always on my own.’
Her voice was faint. That’s all I needed on my evening off, some child from a dysfunctional family, probably one of those who needed food hand outs at half term. She looked like she needed feeding up, but I could hardly invite her in, I might be accused of kidnapping and anyway, I did not want to get involved.
‘Perhaps you had better run along now, I haven’t got any sweets, my daughter took them to her friends’ house.’
She remained silent.
‘How about a bag of crisps and a banana?’
She remained silent, so I turned to nip into the kitchen and see what we had in the fruit bowl. I grabbed a carrier bag and put in two bananas and a few satsumas; she probably never got any fruit at home. But before I could turn back to the kitchen door I sensed her behind me. There she was, standing in my kitchen, this was getting creepy.
‘Where do you live?’
‘Here.’
I didn’t like the way she looked through me, I felt a chill; despite her translucent pallor she looked familiar. Now we were in the light I noticed the ginger curls escaping from her hood were just like Maya’s bouncy hair and she was the same height.
‘Now don’t be silly, your parents will be worrying where you are.’
‘No they won’t, they don’t want me, why didn’t you want me? You love Maya, why didn’t you love me?’
I felt chilled to the core. I hadn’t mentioned Maya’s name and I was certain she wasn’t one of the neighbour’s children or in Maya’s class.
‘You have done your tricking and you have your treat. Now I want you to leave my house.’
‘Why can’t I live here?’
I felt sick, should I call the police… where had I left my mobile… I didn’t want to take my eyes off her, this could be a burglary attempt with a big brother waiting to slip in the front door… it was upstairs charging and the landline was in my husband’s office…
‘Why don’t you tell me your phone number and we could ring your home.’
‘This is my home Mummy, it took me a long time to find you.’
What kind of sick joke was this, could she really be… no that was ridiculous…
‘My daughter will be home soon and it’s time you left.’
‘She’s not coming home.’
‘Her Dad’s bringing her.’
‘Maya’s not coming home, so I can stay now.’
‘Of course you can’t.’
‘Why don’t you want me, you wanted Maya.’
I tried to think rationally, so why did I find myself trying to explain?
‘It wasn’t the right time, it wouldn’t have been fair to you.’
‘You should have given me a chance.’
Who or what was this strange child? What could she possibly know about… I tried not to let my imagination run wild, prayed that Maya and her Dad would be back soon… no, I prayed this frail creature would leave before they did return. I stepped back, nauseous as she held out her blue veined hand.
‘Please go’ my voice was shaking ‘I told you my daughter will be back soon.’
‘I told you Mummy, she won’t be coming back.’
I closed my eyes for a second, trying to think. I heard a tread, felt the floor vibrate, they must be back. But when I opened my eyes a policeman was standing there.
‘Sorry Madam, the front door was wide open, didn’t you hear me calling?’
His voice was muffled behind his mask, but his eyes were darting around nervously.
‘Thanks for coming, were you looking for this lost child, will you call social services?’
He looked puzzled. I followed his gaze round the kitchen, the girl was not there.
‘Oh she must have crept upstairs, we better check.’
‘Madam, madam please, I need you to sit down. Is anyone else at home?’
‘No, my husband and daughter are out.’
‘I am very sorry, I have to tell you there has been a serious accident and we think… ‘
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Cassie was worried about James; even though their town was still a medium risk area his mental health felt like a high risk area. She bit into the tender flakes of haddock; Friday evening fish and chips was one of her Covid comforts; the pandemic had come down to appreciating the simple things. Five of them, plus Sam’s dog, sat well spaced out in the staff canteen of the MPJ building; few staff had used the canteen since March, but this week it had been well used. Sam had honed his cooking skills catering for the small group of fellow homeless folk sheltering at MPJ and it had been his idea to provide meals this half term for children entitled to free school meals and at risk of hunger every holiday. James had been reluctant to agree, but the MPJ bosses had seen a further opportunity to be seen as part of the community and not fat cats. James had been reassured that he would not have to meet any real children. He had the perfect excuse to steer clear of the whole operation as he was still frantically busy coordinating who was coming in to work at the offices and who was working from home. There was still an international company to run in the midst of pandemic uncertainty that seemed never ending.
But it was not work stress that was taking its toll on James. Though their homeless project could not be described as wildly successful, he had proved the homeless could be housed in empty or near empty office blocks. But an office block was not home; the man who had lost his home to divorce and lived with his mother during lock down wanted his own comfortable place. Cassie didn’t blame him, she was thankful to be working at home and thankful she had her own house. She had no intention of sharing it, at least not with James. If there had been a spark earlier, when they could only talk on line, she now knew a relationship was not what she wanted; there was a limit to how much she could help him, it was up to him to work out how to move on. As for Cassie herself, Covid had been a positive experience, discovering new strengths, making new contacts, happy to have James and Sam as friends. Doubts about her actual job, what she really wanted to do with her life, were now put aside as she helped with the homeless. Being Sam’s assistant cook for the children’s meals had made her feel she was really contributing to society, part of the Covid Community.
When they had finished eating and debriefing the week’s project it was time for Sam to walk the dog and for Cassie to cycle home, not quite so pleasant now the clocks had gone back. They stepped outside into a dark, wet and windy evening. She wheeled her bike to the park with Sam and despite the weather they were so busy talking they reached the other side of the park without her mounting her bike. He had important news. While James was now in a bad place Sam was in a far better place. Cassie had no idea what the dark years had been like after his wife left and took their little boy, but he was determined to make the future positive.
‘It’s strange that Covid has made it easier getting in touch. I suppose his mother knows there is no chance of us meeting up, no chance of me getting up to the wilds of Scotland. Well I guess she reasons that if he finds out how little his real father has to offer, he will appreciate his stepfather.’
‘But you have got a lot to offer, sounds like her second husband only knows about deer and salmon fishing, he can’t help with on line science lessons like you can.’
‘Yes I really think my son might be taking after me, he knows enough to understand what an excellent job I had, or should have had. But I’m glad I was up front with him about what happened; I think it appeals to his teenage rebellious streak that he has a father who has to sell the Big Issue and run a dog walking business.’
‘Socialist leanings perhaps, young people can see how Covid has revealed terrible inequalities and it’s not his fault if he’s been given everything and has never had to worry about food or money.’
‘As long as he doesn’t try and do anything stupid like run away. I told him to knuckle down and study now, not use Covid as an excuse, if he wants to get somewhere. The world is going to need scientists more than ever.’
‘Daaad, that’s disgusting, it’s still oozing blood.’
‘You can’t beat a rare 16 ounce steak, it’s your sawdust burger that looks disgusting.’
‘At least I’m not eating a sentient being.’
‘He’s not sentient anymore, besides, he had a good life roaming free and eating all that lush Scottish grass.’
‘You mean he was one of the unlucky ones, castrated, never destined to be the prize bull.’
‘That’s life…’
‘Even the prize bulls are herbivores; if they can turn grass into muscle, why do humans need meat?’
‘Your daughter’s right Geoff, even if you don’t care about the animals you eat, you need to care about your health.’
‘…and I am eating all the delicious veggies you cooked to go with my juicy steak.’
‘But you had egg and bacon for breakfast and a huge ham sandwich for lunch.’
‘From outdoor reared pigs, I thought that was okay. Humans have always been omnivorous, that is why the human race will always survive… Phew, is it me or is it hot in here. I’ll take the dog out and enjoy a death stick, ha ha.’
‘Daad, I thought you were going to try vaping.’
‘That’s for teenagers, sucking in steam that smells like a sweet shop, my grandfather smoked forty a day and…’
‘…lived to be a hundred, yes Dad, you have told us that a hundred times.’
‘Your father’s been a while.’
‘Probably chatting to next door, his smoking buddy…. Oh it’s okay, I can hear Rex… why is he barking like that?’
Geoff opened his eyes, the dreadful pain had disappeared. The sun shone in his eyes, but that couldn’t be right, it was a dark autumn evening in Mildred Avenue and where had that stupid mutt gone? Green fields, rolling hills, a meandering river, reminded him of that Scottish holiday. Peaceful, the air so fresh, no sound but the bleating of sheep. He stood up and took a few shaky steps; he had lost his glasses somewhere, but his eyesight was perfect. Sheep dotted up on the hills, cattle grazing by the river, this was paradise, but what had happened to his house, his road? Was he in a film set, or in heaven? No, there was a farmhouse in the distance, best to ask there.
No sooner had he thought this than he was there, in the yard, chickens pecking around him, a sheepdog lying in the sun, a sow brushed past, followed by her piglets.
‘Hello, anyone around?’
‘So you have arrived Geoff.’
He couldn’t see where the voice was coming from. ‘How do you know my name, who is this speaking?’
‘Your long suffering guardian angel.’
‘Ha, ha. Very funny. Am I dreaming, fell asleep on the sofa watching Countryfile?’
‘No, you’re dead.’
‘You’ll be telling me next I’m in heaven.’
‘You are, though it’s not your heaven.’
‘Whose is it then? Don’t tell me the Jehovah’s Witnesses were right all along, are there lions here?’
‘All God’s creatures, you are just seeing all the ones you have eaten.’
It dawned on him with a mixture of relief and fear; he was in intensive care, his wife and daughter must be feeling smug. All that nagging about him being an obese middle aged chap, vulnerable to Covid, going down the pub and not social distancing. Hallucinations, that’s what happened when they put you in an induced coma, not so bad, but he must not relax. He would show them, he would get better; if Boris and Trump could recover, so would he. His hallucination was still rabbiting on.
‘Your daughter was right all along. The answer is reincarnation, it’s time for you to go to your next life.’
Two could play at this game, he hadn’t finished with this life yet. ‘Okay Gabriel, or whatever your name is, who will I be next time?’
‘A pig; but don’t worry, you have earned a dispensation as you were not a bad husband and did not commit any crimes against humanity. You are about to be born in a muddy Hampshire field, suckled by a healthy sow, playing with your siblings till it’s time to go into the barn to be fattened up.’
Vivienne put the last book back, vowing to look at the collection more often; seven months of Covid lockdown and she had only just got around to emptying the family heirloom bookcase and giving everything a good dust. The motivation had been to find questions for the quiz and the bookcase certainly held an eclectic selection, from her father’s favourite books to the colourful educational books they had bought for James and Julia. When her son popped in at lunchtime he had remarked that all knowledge could be found on the internet, with a lot less dusting involved. Vivienne retorted that the internet did not make the words of wisdom in books defunct, at which point James had picked up the book that had been his favourite when he was ten. Fun Facts From the Future. Few of the predictions of thirty five years ago had come true; Vivienne had not gone to see her cousin in Australia on a three hour flight in Concorde Mark Three, nor were her grandchildren living in an Eden Project style plastic bubble on the Moon. The only bubbles being lived in were Covid bubbles.
Sitting with a much needed cup of tea Vivienne pondered on her family’s lives. James had worked hard leading the plans to get some staff back to work at MPJ, only to have Boris telling everyone on Monday to stay at home again. Her son’s second project had at least resulted in him moving out, though not to the respectable sort of town flat she imagined divorced men in their forties aspired to. To prove that adapting empty office buildings for the homeless was a viable proposition, he had moved into the MPJ building himself.
Julia, worried her mother would feel lonely without James clumping around, had invited Vivienne to join in the Saturday evening Zoom Quiz she ran for her friends. Vivienne found it more fun than she expected and wondered why she had not been invited earlier, though it was easy to guess that Julia did not want her brother joining in and getting top scores. The two quiz evenings so far had been an eye opener; Julia’s friends teased and said things to her that Vivienne would never dare, but they seemed to be a nice bunch. They were also clever, but the simple format meant no one saw or heard your wrong or silly answers. There were no technical challenges, you just wrote your answers down on paper, it was all done on trust. Vivienne was totally honest, though she did give herself the odd point when she could picture perfectly the famous person, it was just the names that escaped her brain. She had never intended to take a turn at quizmaster and was not sure how that happened, but she was pleased with the five varied rounds of ten questions she was planning.
On Saturday evening Vivienne was linked in or logged on, whatever you called it and the chatter was lively, so lively she wondered when they were going to get started.
How many flowers can you find in an English country garden?… no that’s not the question, that’s the title of Round 1. What is the proper name for snapdragons, make sure you spell it correctly to score the point…
Round 2 Classic Fifties television programmes…
Round 3 Happy 250th Birthday Beethoven…
During the ten minute break the chat was lively.
Has your mother been on Mastermind Julia?
Why are we celebrating now if his birthday’s not till December?
I know he wrote nine symphonies, but who on earth would know how many piano sonatas he wrote…
Round 4 is easier, general knowledge
What is the smallest island in the world that is still a sovereign state?…
…I thought you would find the general knowledge easy. Never mind, Round 5 is just a bit of fun… Predictions of the future that never came true…
Times and Tides of a Beachwriter 