My day so far

Steve has a flat, a lovely flat now, and today we went to see it and get him moved in. His room is very tiny, but his flatmates seem nice, and there is a spacious sitting area in the downstairs part, and also he has a nice window overlooking the garden and a shelf in the refrigerator all to himself.

Liz his flatmate took us round to see the landlady (actually not the landlady but only the landlord’s agent), and she, the landlord’s agent, she is fantastic. She chuckled when Steve spelled and pronounced his last name for her and told us that she had some French relatives but didn’t speak a word although her middle name was someone’s maiden name and it was French and she always had cringed when asked to spell it in primary school because she wanted a nice normal middle name like everyone else. When she went away to let Steve read over his tenant agreement, I investigated her bookshelves, because I am that kind of person, and I discovered that she had:

1) Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie
2) all of James Herriot’s books
3) an old edition of I Capture the Castle, which means she liked it before it was In to like it because of JK Rowling (unlike me)
4) One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
5) Watership Down
6) Joan Baez records
7) some other books I like but now can’t remember

And furthermore she had a dulcimer, a banjo, and a mandolin hanging upon her wall; and furthermore she apparently teaches art classes and guitar classes.

So Steve and I both wanted to be her best friend, but Liz had somewhere to be so we could not engage in a nice long conversation with her but had to hurry along and get things signed and settled. However, Steve and I are going to make her cookies so that she will know that we love her and want to be her best friend.

I also want to be this town’s best friend, because it is the best place ever. While we were in it today, we espied a little dog wandering along the road eating nasty things and being very cute but stray, and it even had a collar with a number to call (but nobody was home). A nice old man came and helped us by telling us that we should take it round to the Playing Fields, where at least it would not get hit by a car, and then he went with us to show us, and he asked had we heard about the earthquake?

No, we hadn’t.

He was very surprised that we hadn’t heard about the earthquake. It was a very famous earthquake, and it had happened right here in Wivenhoe, not so very long ago. 1884. He once knew a woman (now deceased) who had experienced this Very Famous Wivenhoe Earthquake. He had spoken to her about it. He supposed we had not been in Wivenhoe very long or we should have heard about the earthquake that was there. Wikipedia (the Way, the Truth, and the Light, verily I say unto ye) knows about it: see?

And we took little Digger (for that was the dog’s name) to the Playing Fields–Steve carried him very gingerly because he was afraid that he would pee on him–and I rang up the owner again to let them know, and we waited around for a moment to see if someone would come and claim him, for we had done all we could do, and do you know what? Someone did!

Digger was frisking near a baby carriage, and suddenly there was a tremendous whistle, and a bloke came running up and seized Digger with a joyful seizing and rejoiced that he had been recovered, and the nice old man who knew about the big earthquake explained to him that he should be very very grateful to this young couple here, without whom Digger would certainly have been roadkill (exaggeration), and the man was grateful, and the old man was grateful, and we were grateful, and it was a joyous fest of gratitude.

Hooray! We were dog-savers!

After which we wandered around some more and saw the following exciting things:

1) a little bookshop with handmade hats that did not look good on me and a red couch for sitting and reading on
2) a wharf with rowboats, which Steve wanted one of
3) two swans that were very beautiful and I knew that they were the property of the Crown
4) several nice pubs
5) a weatherbeaten sort of man with a hat and a beard riding upon a motor-and-pedalling-powered tricycle thing. I said, My dad would offer that guy fifty thousand pounds for that vehicle, and while I was saying this Steve was going, Did you see that guy? Did you see that guy? Did you see that guy? and I said that I had (obviously), and Steve said, Did you see his hat? Did you see his beard? He’s a sailor! That’s what sailors look like! and he was very excited.
6) a Co-Op grocery store with tasty samosas and spring rolls (but not as good as the ones from that place and Diwen’s mother’s, respectively)

And when I got home my mum had sent me my comfy blue pajama pants! And a letter! And I had Oreos! And soon Steve will come back over here and I will make calzones! And we saved a dog! What a marvellous day! Clever Steve for living in lovely Wivenhoe! (You can read what he thinks about it here.)