seeing as how it'd been at least 10 days since Erin mailed it -- and I
hadn't received it yet. When I asked Richard how long he figured it'd
take to get mail, he said, Oh, between 4 days and 3 weeks. Okay,
that's a pretty safe guess!
Anyway, it was a planned piece of mail, on account of I'd imagined
that's what you'd need – a piece of mail addressed to you, at your
present address -- to qualify for a library card. And I was right! So
tomorrow, it's the library for me . . . AND a new library card, with
check-out privileges!
Made my way to Market Hall, around to the different stalls when I
found I had grown peckish (for all you Wallace & Gromit fans). By the
time I got there it was a while past lunchtime and I found at the deli
counter a sign that read All Sandwiches Now €1. Had myself their last
imitation crab with sliced cucumber variety. Not bad. That is one
bargain I will remember to check out again in the future.
Speaking of the notion of one pound, I found it kind of fun that,
whereas we have All A Dollar & the Dollar Store(s) in America, there
is an equivalent here as well: Pound World, with the accompanying
slogan, Everything £1, and also Only 99p – One penny less than £.
I mentioned that last week on Friday I made a new friend in the bank
with the customer service representative and that we talked about
going out to dinner sometime soon. Well, that was tonight and around
7pm Maureen (pronounced Moreen) picked me up in her red mini. She had
mentioned she wasn't exactly sure where we should go so I had done a
little research online myself ahead of time. Maureen thought they all
sounded like plausible choices. The first one was filled to the max,
with a long wait anticipated (Abbey's on Abbeygate Road); the second
too far away (The Beach Restaurant on Cleethorpes peer); and the
third, a pub (The White Hart), had recently been renovated so was an
unknown quantity. I said, I like pizza. Any pizza around here? Maureen
knew the perfect place, right there close in town -- where I spend a
good deal of each day and where she works at Lloyds. We both ordered
pasta. The cuisine was actually exceptionally good (I would definitely
go again AND recommend it), and the price was very reasonable. There
was only one other couple there when we arrived, otherwise it was
empty. We ended up being the last ones to leave. Such a shame for such
a good restaurant, but it was a Tuesday night, I suppose. We talked
and shared about our respective lives. Maureen (Mo for short) is about ten
or so years younger than I am. Her two kids are about the same age
as Erin and Andrew, same gender order. Their family has had the usual
ups and downs or any modern family. Presently she is in the middle of
long drawn out divorce proceedings with her unreceptive husband of 36
years.
Maureen began working at the age of 16 for Barclays (Bank), straight
away out of high school. She married at 21 (same as me), kids came
along, over time her marital situation has become strained, changed
from unmanageable to extremely difficult between her and her spouse.
Now there's all that wrangling over splitting up the pension -- and
the inheritance -- to be considered! She says she's not exactly sure
why she married when she did, or to whom, perhaps because she was
trying to escape from the circumstances of her life at the time. When
we first met last week and considered going out together, I'd said I
wasn't interested in going out for a drink, thank you, because I
didn't drink, but I observed as we sat there talking, when our eating
had wound down, that as Maureen held her water glass offhandedly in
her upturned hand, musing, occasionally sipping, to the casual
observer glancing in our directions it gave the undeniable appearance
that we were sitting there chatting, and imbibing the night away.
Maureen lives in the small village of Caistor (rhymes with waster), 15
minutes or so away from Grimsby, in a free-standing home, what I
consider a luxury in England, what with semi-detached, and town
homes/row houses the rule for pretty much everyone. The place name is
derived from the Latin term, castra, meaning a military fort, which
indeed that site was many centuries ago. I understand it is situated
on a rise, in a hilly range called The Wolds. (We have talked about
getting together on another occasion to go out hiking.) Her work at
the bank is for half the week, for the other she helps operate a
dress agency with a friend, similar operation to Plato's Closet, called
The Dresser of Caistor, where people bring in their upper end clothing
to be sold on consignment, splitting the profits 50/50. What with the
economic downturn affecting the whole world, Maureen feels that shops
such as this are becoming more popular, and more profitable. (It's kind
of ironic that Maureen has a part in this particular enterprise, as she tells
me she really not interested in clothes. Now me on the other hand . . .)
All in all it was a most enjoyable evening -- one that I'm sure will
be repeated. I suppose from a British perspective, I'm the one who's
the novelty!
Photos (see above)
1- menu from DaVinci
2- sign on front lawn of Methodist Church, discovered while on a walk
today – you can be assured of where I'll be, next Saturday morning,
1am your time (leaving you to figure it out if you don't know)
