133: Any other business

Who was it who said; ‘A committee is an animal with four back legs?’ I was staring out of the window to where the new trench, for the new water pipe, was being dug. Then I remembered, John Le Carre in The Honourable Schoolboy, I think? The fact I had time to cogitate, and remember the quote and ponder its source, is a measure of how distracted, or do I mean dissociated, one becomes whilst chairing the club dining committee these days.

Health had somehow crept onto the agenda, or rather the lack of it. As I let them ramble a little longer, the thought occurred that it may have been the influence of Sparkwell at the Spa and Sports Committee that had caused the subject to somehow jump domains, escaping their ‘safe space’ and invading ours! We were on the final item, a routine review of the menu, but somehow it had morphed into the obesity crisis, the psychological impact of our alleged comfort food, and now, the detrimental effects of food additives.

‘But we must consider our activities in the context of the climate crisis.’ Tuffy lobbed in from left field.

‘Enough!’ I asserted. ‘We’re drifting, gentlemen.’

‘Perhaps we need a new committee?’ Added another.

‘We've got four already! Every extra layer of management makes us less efficient and can only lead to higher fees in the future. Now, can we please move on to any other business.’ They had none, thank goodness. But I did; ‘There is one matter I think we should give thought to, the forthcoming official visit of our new MP, the issue being how much she needs to be, well, managed?’

‘Has anyone met the woman? I hear she’s a bloody Trot, sounds like trouble to me.’

Discretion prevents me naming the individual. I simply mused; ‘Well I’ve been in the same room as her a couple of times, can’t say I gleaned much about her.’ Now I concede, I was ‘perhaps being economical with the truth’, but I did want to keep control, make myself Brenda’s personal guide.

‘Well, I don’t imagine any of us have got even that close, I vote the chair should take on the responsibility, I don’t see it’s any business of ours.’ Thank you Tuffy, I thought to myself, somehow our association still worked, even if only unconsciously.

‘I don’t think there’s any need for us to vote on this, Tony?’ Said someone else.

‘So be it. Meeting closed.’ I glanced at my watch. ‘Oh, good lord, look at the time, Sparkwell is having guests for tea. I must go.’

As I was legging it down the corridor, Cat drew alongside; ‘Your meeting, finally over?’

‘Finally. But I’m late for a Sparkwell tea now!’

‘Oh dear. Still, this will only take a minute.’

‘And?’

‘Tuffy has gone a bit off-piste again, been boasting in the bar, more than once, about Charlie having tattoos, getting chaps to guess how many, and where.’

‘Not the act of a gentleman. There’s only one he could know about, and that from an accidental glance.’

‘I’ll take your word for it, as a gentleman! Clearly, he’s been colouring his narrative.’

‘Leave it with me.’

As I entered our jolly home, via the pantry, a tall young male figure with wayward hair but a reassuring lack of face adornment, sprang to his feet. This was Timothy at close quarters.

‘Pleasure to meet you, sir. I’ve been hearing all about the Arlington Trust.’ Rather formal I thought.

‘Excellent. Apologies for my lateness, delayed by a committee. You’ve had a tour of the garden?’

‘I came in the back way.’

‘How are you Mel, been a while?’

The conversation was a little stilted for five minutes or so, as everyone repeated everything, that had been said before I arrived. Then I pitched in; ‘My thought Tim, was that if you were prepared to take us on, cash in hand of course, then we might also be able to meet all your work placement requirements from across the Trust.’

‘I’ve seen all the websites. You’re also connected to Checkley Manor I understand, a nice house.’

‘Indeed. Well, we seem to be on the same page. I should tell you however that I’m only one of the trustees of the Trust.’

‘Understood.’

Now I stood up, about to leave for a momentary comfort break; ‘Mel! You want to watch yourself, you may never get rid of this chap.’

Upon my return a few minutes later, there was much ribbed laughter. ‘Tony, Mel won’t tell Tim and me what the infamous “unfortunate incident” at her parents wedding was all about.’

‘Don’t tell them!’ Melisa said, looking rather flushed.

I thought, with the boyfriend present, this might be just the moment; ‘I can’t see why not, you were unwell after all, and a small child wasn’t to know.’

‘This is so embarrassing.’

‘Oh! So, it was Mel herself who was the trouble, even then?’ Chided Charlie.

‘Well, it was more the sound really. She was heard, rather than seen by everyone in the church.’

‘Oh, god.’

‘She threw-up in the baptismal font.’

Charlie was driving us to Crawford Park for the Brenda Radnor visit. We were discussing how the situation should be played. Then I realised I hadn’t told her of Tuffy’s latest misdemeanour.

‘I suppose if it was a day I was wearing my shorts, and had to bend a bit, he might have caught a glimpse. As for the others, not a chance.’

‘You never talked about them?’

‘Not to him.’

‘Well, that’s all much as I’d surmised. I leave appropriate retribution, to your good self.’

The visit started with a coffee in the lounge, then I guided Brenda to the spa. ‘Ah! Here’s someone you should meet. Charlotte Sparkwell, chair of the Spa and Sports Committee, and coincidentally my partner in life. Charlie, meet your local MP.’

They shook hands. ‘You look familiar, have we met?’ Brenda asked.

‘I don’t think so.’

‘But? Wait a moment, I’ve seen your face, several times. I know, it was when I was searching The Beacon for local stories before the election, so you and he are...’

‘Ah, but what a tangled web we weave.’

‘Please, do have a complementary, spa special pro-vitamin drink, this one is apricot, but there are others.’ Charlie interceded.

‘Well, I’ve just had a coffee...’

‘Oh, but you really must try one of Charlie’s pick-me-ups. Entirely organic don’t you know. Works wonders after a late evening.’

‘It’s a recipe of my own invention madam. Mixed using our own spring water.’

Having inspected a sample treatment room, the aqua therapy pool and dodged questions about unionisation, I escorted our representative of the old left, out of the mood-altering aromas into the fresh air surrounding the pond.

She made an excellent choice of question; ‘How do you think our government is doing Tony?’

‘Well, I really only concern myself with local issues, but if pressed I’d say they might be on firmer ground if they went back to fighting the class war. Capital and labour may have opposing interests, but they share the same reality.’

‘Intersectional, woke mob, half the country has gone full tin-foiled hat!’

‘I think we understand each other.’

‘Got any more surprises for me?’

‘Well, maybe just one.’

‘And this is the conference centre. Open for hire, at rates commensurate to its surroundings. Of course it’s easy enough to move the chairs, store the screen etcetera. It was originally the ballroom, with sprung floor, still used for musical evenings.’

‘Very grand.’

‘But also with two withdrawing rooms, one serves as a seminar room for “break-out sessions” as required, the other is our media room, often used as a podcast studio. Oh look! The man himself.’

‘What the hell is he doing here?’

‘Good-day all!’ Said a smiling Don with open arms.

‘Had you not realised? Brenda, let me introduce you to the host of one of our nation’s most popular podcasts, The Don Wooley Show. Treat him right, he might let you be a guest!’