Living

From October 2014 to July 2015, I lived alone, for the most part. Number one son was in his third year at Kingston University, number two son was in his first year at Bradford, and Linda was working in Leeds and living there during the week. I had indicated that given that I had commuted to Newcastle at the weekends in the years when we were courting, it was Linda’s turn to do the weekly commute. More of that later, but in any case, for the most part in that year, Linda would leave for Leeds on Sunday afternoon, and return to Cambridge on Thursday night. As I say, the boys were away at university.

Living alone during the week had its favourable and unfavourable aspects. A favourable one was that if I had had a very busy day, coming home to an empty house felt particularly peaceful. An unfavourable one occurred at the opposite end of the day, first thing in the morning. Especially if the weather was clear, I could feel quite desolated when I looked out at the sunlit back garden. I would see the empty lawn, and think about the times when there were two little boys running about it, and guinea pigs in their run on the lawn, Linda maybe doing some weeding. Now it was empty. I almost wanted to cry. I felt like The Selfish Giant in the Oscar Wilde story.

As I say, during those times, for the most part, Linda would come home to Cambridge for the weekend, although occasionally I would go to Leeds.  One Sunday, Linda went off on the train to Leeds around two in the afternoon, and I went to my Taekwondo class at five. This was an Autumn evening, and it was already dark by the time I returned home. As I rummaged for my key to open the front door, I thought I saw the outline of a head and shoulders in the frosted and coloured glass window in the upper panel of the front door. And this in an empty house! Then I breathed a sigh of relief. Of course it must be just a distorted reflection of me, with the street light outside our gate and the house interior dark.

Then the reflection said, ‘Stephen.’

I jumped about four feet in the air.

As it turned out, there was a mundane explanation. Our burglar alarm had gone off, and our good neighbours, Anne and Geoff had a back door key and the code for our burglar alarm precisely for the situation when the alarm went off when we were not at home. They had let themselves in, checked around the house, and were about to depart when I showed up.

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Now let us step back in time to the late 1980’s when Linda and I were going out together. Linda was working at Newcastle University, I was at the Biostatistics Unit in Cambridge. Since I was the one with a car, I did the weekly commuting. I would drive up to Newcastle on Friday night, and back to Cambridge on Sunday night or Monday morning. I felt that I could appear as a contestant on Mastermind, with the specialist topic of road works on the A1.

We were at that stage in the relationship when as John Mortimer said, going out together meant a lot of staying in together. One Saturday afternoon, I cannot remember what gave rise to this, but Linda drew specs on my face with biro, to show me what I would look like if I wore glasses. A little while later, after I had forgotten the incident, she asked me to nip out to the grocer’s and buy a loaf and a pint of milk.

Down at the shop, I was aware that people were staring at me. I returned their looks with my best ‘Who the f*** do you think you’re looking at?’ regard. Do you remember the old music hall song, ‘Abdulla Bulbul Ameer’ in which it is said of Count Ivan Skavinsky Skavar that ‘he donned his most truculent sneer’? Well, that is what I did when I saw the quizzical glances of the shopkeeper and other customers.

When I got back to the flat I mentioned that various people at the corner shop were behaving rather strangely and staring fixedly at me. Linda heroically kept a straight face and expressed surprise. It was not until a little later that I caught sight of myself in the bathroom mirror that I realised I had been out in the street and the corner shop in North Shields with specs drawn on my face.

Ha bloody ha.

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To return to the period when Linda lived in Leeds, there were occasional weekends when I went to Leeds, and I grew to like and respect the vigour and brio of the place. The picture shows Kirkgate Market (I think). We saw One Man Two Guvnors at Leeds Grand, Strictly Ballroom at West Yorkshire Playhouse, Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer at the Arena, did Saturday morning Parkruns in Roundhay Park. Leeds is an impressive place. On one occasion, younger son Tom had two tickets to see Green Day at the Arena, and the plan for his brother Bill to go with him was scuppered as Bill had an unexpected gig in Lisbon, so I went along. It was absolutely brilliant. Apart from the band putting on a terrific show, it was lovely to see our Tom so taken out of himself.

So as with so many places in Yorkshire, I have great memories of Leeds. I must tell you one more story about the place, which long predates Linda’s residence there. My oldest brother John, aka Father Jack, told me this, and I really hope it is true. He had been booked to give a lecture at the University. He had been advised to get a number 6 bus from the railway station, but had never been before, so as he got on, he asked the driver, ‘Do you go to the university?’

‘No,’ replied the driver, ‘I’m a bus driver’.