It Comes To Us All


I received an extra gift this Christmas. In addition to the usual jumper, multi pack of socks and underwear, I received a car washing kit. You know the kind of thing, wash- leather, sponge, shampoo and polish. I think someone was trying to tell me something. Never mind, it was a handy present and I put in one of the kitchen cupboards for safekeeping, I was sure to find it there.

The Thursday after Christmas my wife and daughter had gone to the sales for the day so I decided to tidy up the garden. When I got outside I looked around wondering what to do and decided to clear the sweet peas and save the seeds for next year. On the way to the garage, to get some gloves and a rubbish bag, I picked up the watering can meaning to put it inside.

Then I remembered the keys for the garage were hanging up in the kitchen, so I put the watering can down and went indoors. As I took down the keys I heard the letterbox rattle and the thud of post hitting the floor. Placing the garage keys on the table, I went through, collected the post and returned with a pile of junk mail plus one late Christmas card. Opening the pedal bin to dispose of the junk mail, I found my missing glasses. Placing the junk on the table, I put on my glasses and read the card; it was from my brother in Spain, bragging about listening to Christmas carols and drinking mulled wine while wearing a tee shirt.

The thought of him out there in the sun made me feel cold so I decided to make hot drink to warm me up. I switched on the kettle, opened the cupboard and low and behold, there was the car washing kit. Now where were did I put the garage keys? Just then the kettle boiled, so I made a cup coffee, took a sip, looked out of the window and saw the watering can standing outside the door, right where someone could trip over it. Placing my cup on the table, I went out, picked up the can and since I didn’t have the keys, left it at the side of the garage door.

Back inside I took another sip of coffee and saw the junk mail still lying there, as I reached out to pick it up I saw the garage keys lying on the table and picked them up instead. Back outside I opened the garage door; the hosepipe was next to the waste paper box, which reminded me that the junk mail was still on the table. Returning to the house I picked up the junk mail put it on top of yesterday’s papers ready to carry out to the garage and spotted the car washing kit. I might as well unpack that, I thought and take the box out as well.

I had no sooner unpacked the kit and placed the box on the pile, than the front door bell rang. It was The Mormons, I told them I didn’t want any and walked back into the kitchen desperately trying to remember what I had been doing. The back door was open and I could see that the garage door was too, so I wandered out connected the hose to the tap and ran it out to the driveway. After turning on the tap I began to hose down the driveway and was halfway through that when I remembered I was supposed to be washing the car.

At this point the phone rang, I ignored it and continued to hose the drive, the ringing stopped and began again, I ignored it once more, but when it began to ring for the third time, I dropped the hose and went to answer it. It was a foreign gentleman with a singsong accent, who said his name was James and he was carrying out a survey. It took me ten minutes to convince him that I didn’t want a new phone and then I remembered I’d left the hose running.

Nipping into the garage, I turned off the tap and to be on the safe side, in case someone tripped over it, I coiled the hose, put it back into the garage and went to get my car keys. I searched everywhere and eventually found them in my coat pocket, where I had left them. Putting the keys into my trouser pocket I took a bucket from under the sink a placed the cleaning kit inside. Outside I stood for a moment to get my bearings and then went into the garage, hung the bucket on a hook, closed the garage door and went back into the house to have a lie down.

It’s true what they say; since I retired my days are so busy that I cannot imagine how I ever found time to go to work.

Copyright Fred Watson 2004

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