I tell Mr B that I am going out for coffee with my friend, Sue. Which Sue, he wants to know.
Mr B says I have far too many
friends called Sue but I don’t agree; as far as I am concerned one can never have too many friends and if a goodly number of them happen to be named Sue, well, what’s the problem with that? Mr B says that, despite the fact that I do try to differentiate
between the Sues, for his benefit e.g. there is Spurs Sue and Choir Sue and Chatty Sue to name but a few Sues, he still finds it difficult to tell one from t’other. It does occur to me that so long as I know Who’s Who, or, should I say Who’s
Sue, it doesn’t really matter too much but he does like to feel involved in what I am up to, so I keep quiet.
I tell him that Sue and I are meeting
in a town centre hotel which is an unusual venue for me, being more of a community café gal myself. Still, when we arrive at my friend’s Venue of Choice, I do find myself enjoying the peaceful setting and the view out over Steyne Gardens. There
are four comfy chairs around the table in one corner where we head - including one armchair that looks a bit like a super comfortable throne. Would she mind, I ask Sue, if I take that seat? It will make me feel positively regal and, you know, everyone can
benefit from a touch of regality. Especially one as very non-regal in every respect as I.
Coffee with a friend (whether named Sue or not) is one of the Pleasures
of My Life. It costs no more than a cup of coffee (with the possible enticing addition of a toasted tea cake if my resolve is weak) and doesn’t take me away from Mr B for more than a couple of hours. It gives my jaw a chance to keep moving, so avoiding
the possibility of rust, and there is always so much news to share, opinions to air, jokes to giggle over and views to explore. I am thinking that, in addition to my Tiny Tasks List carefully written into my diary every day, I should consider setting myself
a Daily Pleasure. Most of these, I can’t help thinking, will involve coffee in one form or another.
I imagine you are probably keen (or, even more probably,
not keen) to know whether I am keeping up with my Tiny Tasks. The answer is yes. And no. I am now into my third week and have generally ticked off a small number of Tiny Tasks each and every day except Sunday which, as you know, should be a Day of Rest.
The trouble is, looking back through my daily tasks list, there is just so much repetition. Every Tuesday I post letters to the two grandchildren who are away from home at University. Every Wednesday I jot down that I must put the bins out. Every Thursday
I remind myself to bring them in. Reading through the whole three weeks’ entries, I can’t help thinking how very boring my life appears to be, if judged solely on Tiny Tasks Completed.
My other venture, On Being Prepared For Christmas, is doing very much better. I have found a plastic box in which to store all the cards, presents and birthday banners completed to my November 20th deadline. It is still possible,
I suppose, that my surgery date may yet be cancelled once more, but for the moment I am happily In Denial. I have sellotaped a sign on the side of the box, labelling it “The Being Prepared Box” and most days I manage to finish something else to
add to its contents. Mr B is almost as perplexed by my Being Prepared Box as by my sheer number of friends called Sue. “But why?” he asks, when I show him my box with its orange label. You would think, wouldn’t you, that he would realise
that it is a good example of something doing exactly what it says on the tin. Or, at least, on the orange label...
My friend Sue and I enjoyed such a lovely chat
over coffee, deciding that we had even more in common than we had thought. We would have to meet again, we both agreed, because there was so much more to talk about.
Everybody needs friends in their lives. If they happen to be kindred spirits, so much the better.
They don’t have to be named Sue..