THE (S)LIMEBALL INCIDENT

 

This is a true story - I was that retail soldier - and a little reminder of the kind of thing shop staff have to put up with at times.

I was managing a food/non-food superstore a few years ago and a customer asked to see me.  I found my way to the customer service desk and, although I am six feet tall, this guy seemed to tower above me.  His girth was wider than mine too and as I looked up at him I prayed that this was not going to end in tears - mine.

I stuck my hand out to shake his but he ignored it and started bawling: "Lime marmalade. You've got none."  I went through the motions of saying that I would check for him but he told me that someone had already been to the stock room. "Why haven't you got any?"  I told him I didn't know but I would find out and let him know by phone that afternoon.
"What?" he bellowed, "I am not leaving this shop without lime marmalade." 
"But we haven't any in stock, sir."
"Don't call me sir. Stop patronising me." 
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to patronise you. I apologise for not having lime marmalade in the store but I will have to contact the buying team in head office to see if they can get it on the inventory."
"Ridiculous," he shouted and with that he threw the empty handbasket he was carrying at me, told me to stuff my shop up my arse and stormed away.  The wire basket struck my chin but, heroically, I didn't wince. 

In a mid-sigh as he headed for the exit, he turned around and headed back my way. "I'll be here tomorrow at 10 o'clock to buy a jar of Rose's lime marmalade and you better have it or I'll not be responsible for my actions."  He turned on his heels and walked briskly out of the door.  I sent someone out to a rival supermarket for a jar of lime marmalade and kept it locked in a drawer.  The next morning, the clock ticked in High Noon fashion.  10 o'clock, no customer. 10.15, no customer.  10.30, nope.  12.00, nada.  He didn't show up at all, ever again, to my knowledge.  "What a (s)lime ball, I thought, in a moment of retail blasphemy.

People in shops have much to put up with day in, day out.  

 

ALWAYS A COWBOY

 

The arm of the chair was more than an arm,

it was my horse as a kid while watching TV,

I watched all the westerns and lived every second,

for there on the screen I swore it was me.

I was James Garner, I was Bret Maverick,

I was Will Hutchins, I was Tom Brewster,

I was Clint Walker, I was Cheyenne Bodie,

I was Ty Hardin, I was Bronco Layne,

I was Robert Fuller, I was Jess Harper,

I was Michael Landon, I was Joe Cartwright,

I was Fess Parker, I was Davy Crockett,

I was James Arness, I was Matt Dillon,

I was Richard Boone, I was Paladin,

I was Clayton Moore, I was the Lone Ranger,

I was Jock Mahoney, I was the Range Rider,

I was Clint Eastwood, I was Rowdy Yates,

I was Dale Robertson, I was Jim Hardie,

I was Steve McQueen, I was Josh Randall,

I was Robert Horton, I was Flint McCullough,

I was Doug McClure, I was Trampas,

I was Cameron Mitchell, I was Buck Cannon,

I was Pete Duel, I was Hannibal Heyes.

I can’t imagine my life without western heroes,

the stetsons they wore and how they were dressed,

a young boy’s excitement at theme songs and music,

saddling up on the chair and riding way out west. 

JACK LEMMON - 8 FEBRUARY 1925 - 27 JUNE 2001

Actor Jack Lemmon died at 76 on 27 June, 2001.  In a distinguished theatre, film and television career, he achieved multiple awards including two Oscars – Best Supporting Actor in Mister Roberts (1955) and Best Actor in Save the Tiger (1973) and a Primetime Emmy for Tuesday’s With Morrie (1999).

The US film industry honoured him with two Lifetime Achievement Awards in 1986 and 1995.

There are so many brilliant Jack Lemmon films – Some Like It Hot (1959), The Apartment (1960), Days of Wine and Roses (1962), The Great Race (1965), The Fortune Cookie (1966), The Odd Couple (1968) and onwards to The Prisoner of Second Avenue (1975), The China Syndrome (1979), Missing (1982) and Glengarry Glen Ross (1992).

His last film was an uncredited role as narrator in Robert Redford’s The Legend of Bagger Vance (2000).

In 1986, Lemmon starred in Long Day’s Journey Into Night at the Theatre Royal, Haymarket, London.  It was directed by Jonathan Miller.  I wrote a fan letter to him and he kindly sent me a signed photograph, and here it is:

WORDS WORTH

 

1

I wandered lonely in a daze,

the vales and hills a distant blur,

when all at once I was amazed,

some daffodils began to stir,

close to a lake, under the trees,

rocking and swaying in the breeze.

If only a poet was passing through

to describe the scene for me and you.

2

For oft when on my couch I lie,

in vacant or in pensive mood,

I think of stealing Wordsworth's words

but realise that would be rude.

ONCE A CHOIR BOY

 

In the mid-1960s, I was a first year pupil at St Mary's Christian Brothers Grammar School, Belfast. Just about every kid was Shanghaied into participating in music lessons run by Tommy Cooney - obviously Mister Cooney to us - and one of his major tasks was to assemble a decent set of singers to celebrate some anniversary or other to remember the life of Edmund Ignatius Rice, the founder of the Christian Brothers movement in 1802.

Mister Cooney was a plinkety-plonk piano player, somewhere between Mrs Mills and Animal from The Muppets, but he was enthusiastic and tried very hard to keep us from getting bored with the necessary repetition of scales and all the other layers of music theory. He did tell us that he expected us to jump out of bed in the mornings, open the window wide, take as deep a breath as we could muster without busting a rib and then sing the highest possible note we could manage. This, he said, was good for the lungs. Now, if anyone ever followed his advice I have yet to hear about it. Letting out a high-pitched squeal early in the morning where I lived would not only have scared the birds and the milkman, it would have been a signal for some annoyed neighbour to hurl a brick through the aforementioned window.

As the weeks went by and we moved closer to the big Ignatius Rice event, several kids were dropped from the choir. Sadly, I made the cut. Rehearsals continued at a pace. It was mostly torture but there was no escape. Light relief came from watching Mister Cooney demonstrate the techniques of singing. Whenever there was a Pavarotti vocal stretch required, he would go for it but, almost always, his false teeth would dislodge and he would chew and gurn them back into position before trying again. Picture a couple of dozen squirming kids simultaneously trying to stifle titters.

As far as I can remember, the event went well and not long after that I left the choir. My work was done.

One other thing I recall about Tommy Cooney, the music teacher - he could't sing a note!

JUST SOME OF THE RECORDS I HAVE ENJOYED IN MY LIFE

There are thousands more, but off the top of my head, here are some of the records I have enjoyed in my life - for all kinds of reasons!

Theme from Bonanza (TV)
Faith of Our Fathers (Hymn)
Hound Dog by Elvis Presley
Theme from The Magnificent Seven (Film)
Buck's Polka by the Miami Showband, featuring Clem Quinn
Forty Shades of Green by Johnny Cash
Rocky Road to Dublin by The Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem
In My Life by The Beatles
If You Could Read My Mind by Gordon Lightfoot
Story Of A Life by Harry Chapin

It's All Over Now by The Rolling Stones
The Twist by Chubby Checker
Bird on the Wire by Leonard Cohen
The House of the Rising Sun by The Animals
The Days Of Pearly Spencer by David McWilliams
The Sound of Silence by The Bachelors
The Hucklebuck by Brendan Bowyer and the Royal Showband
Unchained Melody by Joe Dolan and the Drifters
What A Wonderful World by Louis Armstrong
Bad Moon Rising by Creedence Clearwater Revival

These Boots Are Made for Walking by Nancy Sinatra
Galveston by Glen Campbell
Reach Out, I'll Be There by The Four Tops
Up Went Nelson by The Go-Lucky Four
I'm A Believer by The Monkees
I Only Want To Be With You by Dusty Springfield
God Only Knows by The Beach Boys
Are You Sure Hank Done It This Way by Waylon Jennings
Theme from The Rockford Files (TV)
The Best Thing That Ever Happened To Me by Gladys Knight and the Pips

Dedicated Follower Of Fashion by The Kinks
Tequila Sunrise by The Eagles
The Streets of London by Ralph McTell
Baker Street by Gerry Rafferty
Oliver's Army by Elvis Costello
Whiskey On A Sunday by Danny Doyle
He'll Have To Go by Jim Reeves
Your Song by Elton John
Dock Of The Bay by Otis Redding
Lovely Day by Bill Withers

Apache by The Shadows
Dancing Queen by ABBA
Sylvia's Mother by Dr Hook & the Medicine Show
Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick by Ian Dury & the Blockheads
Thunder Road by Bruce Springsteen
Band On The Run by Wings
Piano Man by Billy Joel
Albatross by Fleetwood Mac
The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face by Roberta Flack
Rio by Michael Nesmith

Telstar by The Tornados
The Young Ones by Cliff Richard
From A Jack To A King by Ned Miller
I Like It by Gerry & The Pacemakers
Here Comes My Baby by The Tremeloes
When You Walk In The Room by The Searchers
Mr Tambourine Man by The Byrds
Pied Piper by Crispian St Peters
Home Thoughts From Abroad by Clifford T Ward
Rex Bob Lowenstein by Mark Germino

Theme from The Big Country (Film)
A Mother's Love's A Blessing by Bridie Gallagher
Lily The Pink by The Scaffold
That's The Way God Planned It by Billy Preston
It's Not Unusual by Tom Jones

LUNCH INTERRUPTED

 

The patio was a mess of sandwiches, Victoria sponge wedges, sausage rolls, potato crisps, broken glasses and bottles, leaking cans of beer and cola. In shock and disbelief, we stood looking up. The sky was like the opening of The Simpsons cartoon show, clouds moving in slow motion. Then we looked down at the body on the lawn. It had landed with an epic thud from out of the blue. The al fresco lunch had been upended by the four of us as we leapt out of our garden chairs. We were frozen, all of us rigid and staring until Colin shook his head, took out his phone and called the police.

We circled the corpse. It was face down but it looked male and, unsurprisingly, lifeless. We discussed whether or not to turn it over, but no one had the nerve.

‘We shouldn’t touch it,’ said Alice, Colin’s wife. ‘CSI and all that.’

My wife, Gemma, looked pale and unwell. She was on the verge of tears. She screamed. I grabbed hold of her and we hugged until she calmed down. Colin and Alice held hands tightly. We sat again and waited for the police, not once taking our eyes off the body.

‘A proper gate crasher,’ said Colin, attempting a joke. None of us laughed. 

A siren sounded in the distance, increasing in volume as it approached the house. I guided the two police officers to the back garden. There was no need to point to the problem. One officer knelt to examine it. He whispered something to his colleague and she stepped away to radio a message. The kneeling officer suggested we go inside as he was going to turn the body over and didn’t want us to see it. Colin, Alice and Gemma took the advice. I opted to stay outside. 

As expected, the man’s face was flattened and bloody. I rocked back and forth and felt an uncontrollable urge to vomit.  I decided to join the others inside.

Before long, a scenes of crime team and medics were photographing, taking notes, discussing possibilities. One of the police officers asked that we each write a statement about what we saw and heard. We were asked if we needed counselling. We all agreed we were fine for the moment but that we might when the full horror of the incident sank in.

After a couple of hours, the corpse was stretchered away in a body bag and the crime team, medics and police officers left. I poured each of us a large whiskey. We took our drinks outside and walked to where the man had landed. At some point, we would find out who he was and how and why he fell from the sky. 

We clinked glasses, raised a toast to this unexpected stranger, drank the whiskey in one, knowing we would never forget the man, even after the lawn had repaired itself and erased his perfect imprint.

First published 2020 by Spillwords