HONEYMOON
We had a brilliant honeymoon, Menorca is definitely my favourite place in the world, just pipping Whittlesey! Back in 1997 I had been to Sydney and that was amazing also but it is too far to visit on a regular basis. So for me Menorca has the edge, I would loved to have been born in Menorca it would have made me a Wright Quan.
Although, as I have said before, we were often a bit volatile, me and the wife always got on really well on holidays and Menorca was beautiful, I felt so relaxed there, we stayed at a place called Cala Galdana and I absolutely loved it. If it wasn't for Jo I would never have visited these places, never got to experience married life, never got Eddie. So I have a lot to be grateful to her for.
Though I had been to Menorca once before, I had dated a girl called Lisa from the Land Registry for around six months. Early in our relationship we went to Malta and towards the end we had gone to Menorca and stayed in a place called Binibeca. I had a fantastic time there. Unfortunately I was so enthralled by the beauty of my surroundings I did not realise that Lisa was spending most of her time on her mobile, in contact with her ex-husband and when we got home she dumped me and went back to him. Much to the delight of her parents who had, unjustifiably in my opinion, hated me right from the start. I wasn't that bothered in fairness but I was sad that I might never get back to Menorca. Holidaying alone is something that has never appealed, I don't have the confidence. As things turned out within a few years I was going back to the island with a wife of my own.
I really like the Spanish people they always seem very friendly, accommodating and patient they put up with pretty much every British person they see smiling and shouting 'Ola' at them as they walk along feeling all bilingual. I was very guilty of this myself, though I had also mastered "Dónde puedo apostar?" (where can I place a bet) along with 'Boners dears' and 'boners nacho's'.
I have always tried to make an effort where foreign languages are concerned. In later life I had a short lived relationship with a Latvian woman and learned to say "cibas" (slippers) and "ar labunakti" (goodnight). As I say it was not a long relationship I think all the excitement got too much for us both!?
So married life started off well for me and Jo, we had a hotel room with a balcony and a sea view it was idyllic. The hotel staff were lovely and halfway through the honeymoon the waitresses seemed to take a real shine to me. I was not surprised I had a confidence and swagger about me that I never had when I was single and I was happy. Out of the corner of my eye I would often catch them huddled together pointing in my direction and giggling, they began to jokingly refer to me as Mr T!?
The reason being I am not and never have been a drinker so when they offered me wine with my evening meal, they found it odd and obviously very amusing that I preferred a cup of tea. "Tea?" they would say giving me an incredulous look before repeating in a bewildered tone "Tea!?" Once I confirmed that yes I would like a cup of tea they looked sympathetically at Jo (who loved her wine) before walking off smiling and shaking their heads.
The hotel had a beautiful pool and as I have always had a thing about the Mediterranean look (long dark hair, olive skin) I loved laying in the sun gazing in wonder at the topless Spanish beauties, while Jo was swimming in the pool. Jo would regularly do 30 lengths she was an excellent swimmer, helped in no small part by her most impressive, 100% natural, inbuilt bouyancy aids.
Along with many other amenities there was also a spa so one day Jo and I thought we would treat ourselves to a 'couples' massage, it wasn't great to be fair, though I am not sure what I was expecting. As it turned out we lay on adjacent massage tables while a lone masseuse gave us a rub down. She would do Jo for a couple of minutes then turn and do me for a couple of minutes alternating this way for an hour. I have to be honest the bits where I was getting massaged were nice but just as I started to relax she would leave me hanging and do the wife for a bit. I think Jo felt equally disappointed.
One night we returned to our room after a romantic evening stroll around the bay to find a Spanish, Police tribute band playing on a stage directly beneath our balcony. I guess I should clarify, as sometimes my punctuation lets me down, that they were playing songs by Sting's old band The Police and all the members of the tribute band were Spanish. It was not a band playing songs in tribute to the Spanish Police. The trio were excellent and it was a brilliant way to end the night. As we lay in bed I whispered romantically into the wife's lug hole "da do do do da dah dah dah"
"You what husband?"
"That's all I wanted to say."
Once we were entering the final few days of our holiday our thoughts began to turn to going home, it is always a bit depressing when a holiday is coming to an end but the big bright spot was knowing that we would soon be reunited with Eddie, well it was a big bright spot for me. I really would not have wanted to go home otherwise. The thought of seeing Ed made the flight home so much easier.
When we got home Eddie was so pleased to see us he went running round and round the house squealing with delight. I had never been greeted in such a way before his sheer uninhibited delight just melted my heart.
Eddie's joy certainly compensated for our driveway being covered in cat poo. The neighbours, understandably, had not taken to Michael and Ambrose shitting in their garden and while the wife and I had been in Menorca, blissfully unaware, nextdoor had been collecting up cat shit and scattering it all around our gravelled front way. I thought they were behaving very immaturely so the next day I got some cardboard and knocked up a very shoddy Blue Peter type construction. On the front I wrote FELINE TOILET in brackets (Please defeCATe here) and I stood it outside facing the neighbours house. I felt it showed I was making an effort, I was giving the cats an alternative option when deciding where they wished to do a dump.
I fully appreciate that cats are very annoying with where they choose to crap but that is their nature they are very independent. The neighbours had not even spoke to us about it before declaring Turd World War in our absence. I think they may have been a little aggrieved that I had asked my parents and not them to look after Eddie, while we were honeymooning.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"OH SHIT!"
The winter of 2007 was pretty chilly. Eddie was now, at last, able to go for walks. Due to the fact I liked to be at work for 7 a.m. I would get up around five in order to give the tubby beagle or 'Tubster' as I had taken to calling him a good long walk, he certainly needed the exercise. It was a brilliant start to the day just me and Eddie roaming the dark, mostly deserted, streets of Whittlesey.
Though I loved our walks, I did feel that as I wanted to be at work for seven (I was lucky in that The Land Registry operated a flexi-time system so if I got in early I could leave around three) I felt Eddie could probably do with a bit more exercise and so I formed a plan. For Valentines day the previous year Jo had bought me a Mountain Bike and I had got her a chiminea for the garden, romantic eh!?
Well I did not get out on the bike that much so I thought, 'kill two birds with one stone', in the mornings, as there was hardly anyone about I could ride the bike and Ed could jog along beside me, then in the evenings we could walk together.
Luckily, when we began the experiment there was quite a covering of snow on the ground. I would have Eddie on the extendable lead and set off at a leisurely pace. Now the thing with beagles is, they are not very well behaved and they do like to run. Once we turned out of our cul-de-sac Ed took off "oh shit!" in a matter of seconds the lead had stretched as far as it could go, I tried to brake to regain some control but hit the front brake instead of the rear and over the handlebars I went, landing on my back and looking up at the stars, fortunately the snow broke my fall. Then a beagles confused face appeared looking down at me as if to say "What are you doing down there? That extendable lead just whacked me on the back of the head you know?"
"Sorry mate" I said, giving his head a rub. "Let's try again."
After a couple of weeks and several more flights over the handlebars, I decided it was probably best to go back to walking. Bikes and Beagles didn't mix.
As the mornings got lighter we started walking around the brick pits, strictly speaking it was trespassing but lots of dog walkers did it and as they say "When in Rome...or Whittlesey in this case." Those early morning walks, as we were entering Spring were just gorgeous, I could let Ed off the lead and he would chase rabbits, with me safe in the knowledge he would never catch one. If he wasn't charging around after the wildlife he was lagging behind taking in the sights and smells. I used to love the sound of him chasing after me. I didn't have to look back I could hear him racing up behind me then he would put the brakes on just as he got to me, which would result in him skidding to a halt once he had gone about 15ft past, he would then turn around and walk back to me, wagging his tail. It was a perfect time the bond we had was so special.
In my later years, many things fell into place around why I found human relationships very difficult. I could never really let my guard down, I never trusted people and always expected to lose or get hurt eventually. I could never accept another person could love me. Eddie just bounded through all the walls I put up and was a constant during the happiest years of my life the only years I actually 'lived life'.
One of the many benefits of living in Whittlesey at that time was the surrounding countryside there were so many walks, where you could be in touch with nature, be right away from it all in a matter of minutes. Now like most Beagles, Eddie was pretty greedy and one of his annoying habits was that he was forever picking up all manner of stuff and eating it. I despaired by and large I gave up saying "drop it!" or "Eddie No!".
One day though, while out in the middle of nowhere and on a day where Ed looked particularly tubby, I put my foot down. Eddie was rummaging around close to some bushes when I saw him pick something up. "Right Edward enough is enough...drop it!" I held out my hand under his mouth. "Drop it!" Ed kept his jaw clamped shut. "Not today young man" I said "Not today" I began to try to prise open Eddie's mouth. Ed took pity on me and deciding he would let me win this time, relaxed his grip dropping the contents of his mouth into the palm of my hand. "Good boy" I praised him. "Well d...oh shit!" I realised I was now holding a ball of dog saliva coated horse poo. "Oh for fucks sake!" I exclaimed throwing the shit away. Ed looked at me as if to say 'Now what's your problem... I did want you wanted'.
My hand was covered in crap, rustling through my pockets with my one clean hand ,I realised I had no tissues, (something that never happened when I was a lonely singleton) I tried wiping my hand on the grass, but the grass was damp, I hoped it was due to dew and not horse piss, either way I only succeeded in spreading it around my hand rather than removing it. So I had to walk all the way home with a black turd print on my right hand. I hoped people would not suspect me of being in The Black Hand Gang!? I was also reminded of Blind Pew from Treasure Island, the fearful beggar who delivered black spots to Pirates signalling their imminent deaths. Though in my case it was more Blind Poo (groan).
All this time Eddie walked jauntily along beside me, he seemed to have a real spring in his step, the little sod. "Look at my bloody hand Edward" I said as we walked along the streets of Whittlesey towards home, Eddie just wagged his tail.
"Mawninbiggleboiy" waved one of the old fella's who I saw most days.
"Morning" I waved.
Oh shit!
I could almost hear Eddie laughing.
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