Captain Mac back at the Comfy Corner Care Home
‘This is my friend Edith dear. This is my grandson Rupert Macauley, Edith, He’s known as Captain Mac.’
‘What a handsome young fellow, Oh yes, very tasty…’
‘Don’t embarrass him Edith. Edith is a theatrical, Rupert, had very full life. She was in No, No Nanette, Choo Chin Chow, The Vagabond King, Blithe Spirit, Gay’s the Word… So many shows weren’t there dear?’
‘That was when I was very young, Rupert, but yes I’ve been around the block a few times since then, and what an interesting block it has been. And I’ve had ‘em all dear, don’t be shocked, yes, had ‘em all –Errol and Larry, and Cary and Chuck, oh yes, and the Andrews Sisters, and Rod Hull and Emu, Wilson Keppel and Betty, had ‘em all dear. ‘Still performing, aren’t you Edith?’
‘Yes, I have my little radio spot here every Wednesday, don’t I dear?’
‘Indeed you do dear, with your resident’s interviews, eh? Get right up the Warden’s nose don’t we, most satisfactory.’
‘Excuse me ladies…’ Suddenly appearing in the doorway stood Major George Alfred Russell, DSO, MC, his eyes blazing, his moustache bristling, his hands incompetently clutching about his plump frame a very large but rather loose bath towel.
‘Hello Major.’ said Gran. ‘ What’s happened?’
‘Damn nuisance. Having little nap in bath, went back into room, bloody trousers missing. Some pervert must have stolen ‘em. Opportunist low life I expect…Don’t know what things are coming to – can’t have a bath without having your trousers stolen…’
‘Where did you leave them?’
‘On me chair.’
‘The chair by the window?
‘Next to the laundry basket?’
‘Yes. Ah… well…collection day, ain’t it.’
‘Yes, it is. Why didn’t you put on another pair?
‘Thought I’d catch the thief if I was quick, damn silly really, I suppose… Then I trod on somebody’s teeth on the stairs, blasted sharp little buggers they were too, turned out to be me own.’
‘It’s not been your day so far has it?’ said Gran. But meet my grandson Rupert, he has been an army man as well…’
‘Has he by Jove. Howdy do young fella. Who were you with?’
‘Royal Artillery, then Special Services.’
‘Well, well… A real soldier, eh, Edith?’
‘Very real, Major. I always said military service was good for a man. Take my cousin – he served twenty five years in the Royal Armoured Corps. Never did him any harm. Then he retired.’
‘What happened to him?’
‘A tank ran over him outside the Imperial War Museum’.
‘Poor show, poor show…What do you get up to these days young man?’
‘Quite a bit of research and, well, literary administration, teaching, writing…’
‘Writing eh?’ Do a fare bit of that me’self. Just finished ‘Across Finchley on Foot’ and am working on ‘The Memoirs of a Military man’. It will be in several parts. I’ve already completed ‘Ma, there’s a Doodlebug’ and ‘Frolics and Jaunts in post war Germany’.
Also I’m working on a plain man’s guide to outwitting bureaucratic bastards and privatising scum – give you a tip Rupert, when firing off a complaint always have at the end: ‘Copies for the named local MP and the Chairman of the appropriate Government Select Committee. You don’t actually need to send the copies but your document will get a much quicker response!
Well, lovely to chat to you all but best get dressed properly now I suppose…’
The major shuffled off, his towel now even looser, and the rear view of his naked back and buttocks inducing poorly suppressed giggles behind him.