Voyages Around My Father's Head #6

Small Boy: GRANDAD'S ON THE 'PHONE. HE WANTS TO TALK TO YOU.
Woman: Hi, Dad. Merry Christmas.
Pa: Did you get our parcel?
Woman: No, Mum said -
Pa: What about our card?
Woman: The postman's not be-
Pa: It's mid-day! Work-shy. The sooner Vincent Price privatises the Postal Service the better.
Woman: Cable -
Pa: That's another thing. Did you know that you can't send a telegram these days?
Woman: Er -
Pa: I tried to send one to your cousin when she got married in Jamaica -
Woman: Jamaica?
Pa: I think she had to, yes. She was fatter than usual. Telegrams were abolished in 1981. Or so she said.
Woman: Who said?
Pa: The woman at the Post Office. I wish you'd pay attention. So you haven't had our parcel?
Woman: No, Mum said -
Pa: Snow! They manage all right in Alaska. And Finland. And Norway. And -
Woman: Mum said -
Pa: Phone them up!
Woman: Finland?
Pa: Phone the Post Office. Find out what's happened to my parcel.
Woman: Mum says you've had your parcel. It arrived last week.
Pa: No, your parcel. And your card. You should've had it by now.
Woman: When did you post it?
Pa: Hang on, I'll ask your mother. When did we post the parcel? (BEAT) What? Oh.
Woman: Did you send it Recorded Delivery?
Pa: Your mother said we didn't send a parcel. We put money in the children's bank accounts instead.

Voyage Around My Father's Head #5

Close your eyes and picture this.

No! Don't close them until you've read what you're meant to be picturing.

A party is being thrown in a house dangerously close to a canal. About 250 people are present, most of whom are unrelated/unknown to immediate family but who seem to have very tenuous connections to the owner of the house. (In other words, a large number of complete strangers have been invited to celebrate his birthday with him. One suspects he merely passed them in the street earlier in the day.) The next-door-neighbour, Larry, is not what we might call fond of parties, or of the birthday boy, or of the immediate family, or of - well, anyone actually - and has summoned the Police. The time is 8.30pm. (The party began at 7.30pm).

Characters:
Pa - 70, flying - his words - and gregarious.
Daughter - harrassed, sober, convinced she was adopted.
Larry - curmudgeonly and a Yorkshireman. (The two go hand-in-glove.)
Police Officer - officious and confused. (Not a good combination.)

PC: I've explained to your neighbour, Larry, here that there isn't anything I can do.
Larry: He's creating a nuisance.
Pa: You're a nuisance!
Daughter (HISSES): Shut up, Dad.
Larry: Someone's been singing Frank Sinatra songs for thirty minutes.
Pa: He's doing Dean Martin next. I'm paying him £300 to wear a monkey suit and sing songs I like.
PC: Frank Sinatra or Dean Martin will only be considered a nuisance after half-eleven tonight. The party will be over by then, won't it?
Pa: Half-eleven tomorrow morning!
Daughter (HISSES): Shut up, Dad.
Larry: People are drinking too much. They might drive.
PC: I cannot arrest anyone on the basis of what they might do, Sir.
Pa: I've got three judges in there -
PC: They are often the worst offenders -
Pa: And two QCs -
Daughter: Shut up, Dad -
Pa: And two boxes of fireworks
PC: Fireworks?
Pa: Massive boxes.
PC: Who will be in charge?
Pa: Firework's brought 'em.
PC: Who?
Pa: Firework.
PC: I understand that, Sir, but who will be in charge?
Pa: Are you deaf?
Daughter: Dad -
Pa: Firework. That's his name.
Daughter (APOLOGETICALLY): His real name's Dave.
Larry: I like fireworks.
PC: Well, what's the problem then?
Larry: I don't like Frank Sinatra.
Pa (SUDDENLY): I remember you, Officer.
PC: Sir?
Pa: You're the one who arrested me last time -
Daughter: DAD!

(Offstage - Fly me to the moon, let me sing amongst the stars...)

Home Is Where the Hearth Was

Currently, a hugely irritating advertisement for British Telecom is being run on the commercial television channels. The advert suggests that mobile phones are completely bobbins for talking to close members of ones family. In using a mobile phone - apparently - one sends a message that family isn't very important.

Tosh!

Mobile phones are ideal for familial communication. For the next few weeks I intend only to use a mobile phone when conversing with my immediate family, not least because when the topic under discussion (i.e. my father and his propensity to demolish/build things whenever my mother goes on holiday) gets eggy, I can do my top notch crackle, crackle the signal's not very good sound effect and ring off. You can't do that with a land line.

This morning I took a phone call from my brother. (On my mobile phone, of course.) When a conversation begins "Has Dad told you what he's done?' and ones response during the ensuing ten minutes is to say Oh shit, Oh shit, Oh shit then the sole possible action is to unplug the land line for a month or so.

My mother arrived back in England yesterday, though not - as yet - in Yorkshire, after an extended holiday with my aunt. She telephoned my brother.

Ma: I believe Brian's been staying for a few weeks?
Bro: And Trevor, Terry, John and Joe.
Ma: Who are they?
Bro: A joiner, a plumber, a plasterer and I don't know what Joe does -
Ma: WHAT HAS YOUR FATHER DONE TO MY HOUSE?
Bro: Er, Crackle, Crackle.
Ma: WHAT HAS HE DONE TO MY HOUSE???
Bro: Crackle, Crackle - Can you hear me, Mother? I can't hear you? (HANGS UP.)

In previous years, my father has stolen a third of my mother's kitchen (in order to build a WC - so he could spend pennies quickly between losing pounds - equally quickly - on horse races, I suspect), built a snooker room with a full size snooker table (upon which he currently stores his collection of antique golf clubs), annexed half of the garage to build a gym (still unused after five years), put in four bathrooms (which points towards some sort of obsession) and demolished all the walled flower beds so he could park his car more easily.

He thinks - according to my brother - that if he moves the television slightly to the left, Ma won't notice what he's demolished this time ...

I'll be incommunicado until the dust settles. (Quite literally.)

Eat Your Heart Out, Philip Larkin...

Location: American-style restaurant. Interior. Afternoon.

Characters: Father - late 60s; Mother - ditto; Daughter - not telling.

Father: Next?

Daughter: It's a shop.

Father: Next?

Daughter: They sell sofas. You wanted to buy a sofa.

Mother: Where are we going after Next?

Father: After next? That's not even English.

Mother: He needs towels.

Father: Only the people of Inverness speak English properly.

Mother: The Welsh speak perfectly good English!

Father (LOOKING AT DAUGHTER): Most of the time I haven't a clue what your mother's saying.

Daughter: I thought you said you wanted bedding?

Father (SNORTS): At my age?

Daughter: Duvets. Sheets.

Mother: He thinks he's funny. (LOOKS AT FATHER). You're not.

Daughter (QUICKLY): Are you scattering Uncle John's ashes tomorrow?

Mother: Yes. The lifeboat men are doing it.

Daughter: Where?

Mother: At sea.

Daughter: Where at sea?

Father (HEAVILY): Wales.

Mother: It's what he would have wanted.

Father: He lived in Clapham for sixty years. There's no sea in Clapham.

Mother: There is actually. A capital C!

Father (LOOKING AT DAUGHTER): She thinks she's funny. (LOOKS AT MOTHER). You're not.

Daughter: Shall we have a coffee?

Father: The Welsh are not a funny race.

Daughter: Mum, coffee?

Father: Name me a single funny Welsh comedian -

Daughter: Dad? Coffee?

Mother: Max Boyce.

Father: Max Boyce? Funny?

Daughter: Ignore him. He's winding you up.

Father: Another thing about the Welsh -

Daughter (EMPHATICALLY): Who wants coffee? I'll have an espresso. Mum?

Mother: Tea. I'll have tea.

PAUSE.

Father: Angela wants to move back in.

Daughter: Who's Angela?

Mother: One of his tenants. She moved to Newcastle.

Father: She wants to move back.

Mother: Do you want her back?

Father: She's a lovely woman.

Mother: She committed a sex act in The Bay Horse!

Father: As I said, she's a lovely woman.

Daughter: What did she do?

Mother: Sex acts. (BEAT). Plural.

Daughter: Wha -?

Father (LEANING BACK): We'll finish the shopping in the morning.

Mother: We're going to Wales in the morning.

Father: Chester. It's on the way.

Mother: We are not shopping in the morning.

Daughter: Ignore him.

Father: I'll have a cappuccino -

Mother: We are not shopping in the morning.

Father: And a brandy -

Mother: We are not shopping in the morning!

Daughter: Ignore him.

Father: Where's the dessert menu?

Mother: WE ARE NOT SHOPPING IN THE MORNING!

Father (TAKING MOBILE PHONE OUT OF HIS POCKET): I think I'll give Angela a ring -

Roll credits

Voyage Round My Father's Head #4

Father: Have you read my email?

Daughter: I haven't been on the computer today.

Father: I sent it this morning.

Daughter: I was out this morning.

Father: Read it.

Daughter: I'll read it la-

PHONE IS DISCONNECTED. DAUGHTER WALKS TO HER STUDY, TURNS ON PC. STARES AT SCREEN. SHE USES THE MOUSE TO SCROLL THROUGH HER EMAILS. ONE EMAIL IS ENTITLED "MUM'S JOURNEY TO THE AIRPORT". SHE CLICKS TO OPEN IT. THE MESSAGE READS: "IT WAS EVENTFUL. PHONE ME. LOVE DAD."

DAUGHTER WALKS BACK TO THE PHONE AND DIALS.

Daughter (RESIGNED): What happened?

Father: You know how uptight your mother gets -

Daughter: When she's late.

Father: I knew you'd take her side -

Daughter: You have to arrive three hours early for American flights.

Father: It was fine until my tyre blew.

Daughter: What time was this?

Father (VAGUELY): About 9 o'clock -

Daughter: Her flight was at ten!

Father: The car fell off the jack.

Daughter: What do you mean fell off?

Father: Your mother was crying.

Daughter: Crying?

Father: She hit her head on the roof.

Daughter: She was still in the car?

Father: After the fourth go I made her get out.

Daughter: She hit her head four times?

Father: She was being unreasonable. The roof's padded.

Daughter: Did you have the car in Park?

Father: The policeman asked that.

Daughter: What policeman?

Father: I put your mother's luggage on the hard shoulder and made her stick her thumb out.

Daughter: She hitched?

Father: No. (BEAT). I flagged down a minibus.

Daughter: A minibus?

Father: An hotel minibus. (BEAT). The policeman arrived ten minutes later.

Daughter: I don't believe this -

Father: He'd seen me on the cameras.

Daughter: CCTV.

Father: Those cameras are all along the M6. Marvellous.

Daughter: Were you fined?

Father: So I asked him if he played golf -

Daughter: Golf?

Father: He only took it up three years ago -

Daughter: Where's Mum now?

Father: Member of Denton -

Daughter: Did she make her flight?

Father: He arranged a free tow. Great bloke.

Daughter: What about Mum?

Father: I've invited him to play in a Pro-Am next month.

Daughter: WHERE'S MUM?

Father: I left it a few hours and came home. (BEAT). Just in case.

Daughter: Have you phoned Amy?

Father: Your sister won't want bothering with any of this.

Daughter: She could get some Valium.

Father: I'm fine.

Daughter: For Mum!

Father: Why would your mother need Valium?

Roll credits

Voyage Round My Father's Head #3

Father: I'm phoning to see if you'd like to join us for lunch?
Daughter: Are you in the car?

Father: About 1 o'clock.

Daughter: You shouldn't use your phone when you're driving.

Father: I thought we'd eat in Wilmslow.

Daughter: I'm in bed.

Father: Still?

Daughter: I had an operation then had 'flu, remember?

Father: That was last week.

Daughter: And I'm not allowed to drive for two weeks.

Father: You take after your mother. I'm never ill. (BEAT) So you're not coming for lunch?

Daughter: Not this time.

Father: I've been to Fleetwood today.

Daughter: Why?

Father: I'll just pass you onto someone.

Daughter: I'm -

Father: You haven't spoken to her for thirty years!
Daughter: Maybe another time. (BEAT). Dad?

SOUND OF PHONE BEING DROPPED THEN PICKED UP AGAIN.

Daughter: Hello?

Woman (VERY WELL-SPOKEN): Hello? Hello, is that Claire?

Daughter (SLOWLY): Yes...?

Woman: It's Vee, darling!

Daughter: Vee?

Woman: Vee Bentham.

Daughter: Vee...

Woman: Your father's very kindly taking me to the airport. I'm flying back to London.

Daughter: Auntie Vivi!

Woman : No-one's called me that for years, sweetie. Now then, when did I last see you?

Daughter: Er, 1979...?

Woman: Of course! Then you moved back north.

Daughter: Yes. Gosh, Vee...

Woman (BRISKLY): You know I can't picture you at all.

Daughter: Oh?

Woman: Turn left here, darling. Your father says you were the bossy one.

Daughter: I was the eldest.

Woman: There were two of you?

Daughter: Three. Two boys and a girl.

Woman: And which were you?

Daughter: Er...

Woman: Apparently you were very plump.

Father (SHOUTING): She ate so many biscuits I told her she'd pop!

Daughter: I was tall. I had long, brown hair.

Woman: No, it's not coming to me. It's just down here, sweetie.

Daughter (EAGER): I have a very strong memory of you though.

Woman: Have you, darling?

Daughter (ENTHUSIASTICALLY): Yes, it was when you were taking Lucy back to boarding school.

Woman: Yes?

Daughter: You took me in the car for company on the way back. You had Radio 3 on -

Woman: It's gone off a bit, Radio 3.

Daughter: I was in the front seat. We ate barley sugars and talked about all sorts of things. I felt so grown up. It was very dark, all these windy roads with high hedges -

Woman: Oh, yes! The school was in Devon. Dreadful place.

Daughter: Suddenly there was a badger caught in the car's headlights. It's the only time I've ever seen a badger. I wrote a poem about it.

Woman: A badger!

Daughter: It's a very vivid memory.

Woman: How funny! (BEAT). I have no recollection of that at all.

Daughter (SHOCKED): Oh.

Woman (BREEZILY): Amazing! There we are, moving through life making tremendous impressions on other people. People we don't even remember! How funny!

Daughter: Yes.

Woman: I'll pass you back to your father. It was lovely speaking to you, Catherine.

SOUND OF PHONE BEING PASSED BACK

Father: A blast from the past, hey?

Daughter: Yes.

Father: Shame you can't join us for lunch.

Daughter: Yes -

Father: More material for the book!

Daughter: Dad? (BEAT). Dad?

SOUND OF POLICE SIREN AND PHONE BEING DROPPED.

Voyage Round My Father's Head #2

See previous post for explanation.

Father: Sid Dene's phoned me.

Daughter: Hello, Dad. How are you?

Father: Sid Dene. Do you remember him?

Daughter: I'm feeling much better, thanks for asking.

Father: Sid used to visit us in Argyll Close.

Daughter: Nope, doesn't ring any bells.

Father: We lived there until you were eight.

Daughter: I remember Argyll Close. I don't remember Sid Dene.

Father: He was my boss at Ashton Baths. Great family man.

Daughter: Are you out of the bath yet?

Father: Big man. Lots of black hair.

Daughter: So, Sid Dene's phoned you. How did he get your number?

Father: You know Bryan Hill?

Daughter (DISAPPROVING): Mmm.

Father: Great womaniser.

Daughter: Always talked to my chest.

Father: What?

Daughter: Nothing.

Father (IRRITATED): I wish you'd speak properly. Your mother mumbles all the time, too.

Daughter: Is this going anywhere, Dad?

Father: I was at Bryan Hill's car showroom once and he had this secretary, Gerry.

Daughter: Yes?

Father: Great looking woman.

Daughter: Can I stop you a moment. You haven't phoned the Bookie's for at least a minute.

Father: Your mother's hidden my mobile.

Daughter: Ahh...

Father: So I asked Bryan if he was going out with Gerry.

Daughter: Was Bryan sleeping in his garage at this point?

Father: What?

Daughter: When his wife wouldn't let the dog into the house? He slept in the garage with the dog for three years?

Father: That was years later. Anyway, Bryan said "I'm not going out with Gerry."

Daughter: And?

Father: He said it three times. "I'm not going out with Gerry."

Daughter: I'm not following this, Dad.

Father: Sid was!

Daughter: Sid was what?

Father: Going out with Gerry. He left his wife and family and moved to Cornwall with her.

Daughter: When was this?

Father: 1975. It's all going in my book.

Daughter: A riveting read.

Father: Bryan Hill saw Sid last year. Very sad.

Daughter: I can see why Sid would find that depressing.

Father: He's very thin and has lost his hair and teeth.

Daughter: That was careless.

Father: Gerry died. (BEAT). She was a great looking woman.

Daughter: Oh dear.

Father: Bryan Hill said Sid smelled. Needed a wash. Looked like a tramp. (BEAT). Sid's emailing me every day now.

Daughter: Oh?

Father: I've invited him to stay.

Daughter: Have you told Mum?

Father (SOUND OF WATER GUSHING FROM A TAP): Got to go, love. I'm meeting my accountant in The Slater's.

Voyage Round My Father's Head

Note to Reader: These conversations take place in 2-3 minute bursts - the estimated time that a horse race takes from They're Off! to the winner being officially declared. Some of the conversations take place during the 60 seconds or so between horse races. This may go some way to explaining the disjointed nature of the communication.

All conversations take place on the telephone, so imagine you are on a third party line, listening in.

Father: Has your mother called you?

Daughter: Not recently. Why?

Father: So she hasn't told you what I've done?

Daughter: What have you done?

Father: Fifty to win

Daughter: What?

Father: Shush, I'm on my mobile.

Father: Okay, thanks. It's like this; your brother's pal, the journalist?

Daughter: Mark?

Father: That's the one. Well he says the writing's on the wall for newspapers

Daughter: On newsprint, surely?

Father: What?

Daughter: Nothing.

Father: And he thinks journalists need to diversify.

Daughter: Okay...

Father: And do things like ghost write autobiographies.

Daughter: Mmmm?

Father: So I'm paying him £30 an hour to write mine.

Daughter: WHAT?

Father: He's charging me half-price as a loss leader

Daughter: Loss-maker.

Father: What?

Daughter: Nothing.

Father (TETCHY): I wish you'd stop interrupting. Useless nag!

Daughter: I'm hanging up now.

Father: Not you. The bloody horse. So we've got up to 1963 -

Daughter: And Duckenfield Victoria and your football injury.

Father: What?

Daughter: The injury that caused you to have your hip replaced forty-two years later.

Father: You're in a mood. You're upset because I haven't asked you to write my book.

Daughter: Not the ten rounds of golf you play each week.

Father: Mark needs the money.

Daughter: You've just made me redundant.

Father: It's better man-to-man.

Daughter: You mean you'd rather not tell me what you've been up to.

Father: I'd get more sense talking to your mother!

Daughter: Why don't you?

Father: She's not talking to me at the moment.

Daughter (UNDER HER BREATH): Can't think why.

Father: The Favourite. One hundred.

(SOUND OF WATER SPLASHING)

Daughter: Where are you?

Father: My office.

Daughter: In the bath, then?

Father: I'll ring you back. Your mother's shouting something.