Snooker and the Sports Car.
13:44 | 
Posted by
Tony Foster
We are in a snooker hall, something to do with Bolzoni. Jim Cameron is there and it's good to meet up with the salesmen again. Jim is waxing about the way things have gone and general dissatisfaction and it's good to hear they are struggling without me. At some point we play, and Terry (who it started out as but turned it to Mick Tiernan after a while) has mashed a bit of his tip taking a shot. I ask Jimmy White, who happens to be around, whether it can be repaired and he says yes. There is still a bit of dome left in amongst the flattened bit, it looks a bit weird, but, encouraged by the professional's advice, I start to repair it while we continue to talk. The snooker place is the old place behind the stocks. Cuemasters.
Later on I dream that I'm awake, and I have the notebook at the side of the bed that I promised myself I'd put there (I haven't yet) to record the dreams. I'm writing down the dreams I just had, before I forget them. I scribble down this dream and the next one.*
I'm in a sports car and I have to drop something off at a house, which is on the top of Deane Road going towards uni.** It is for an old lady and I have a deeper purpose in her life (perhaps I am going to live there or she is some sort of benefactor) but it is hazy. In the car are two dogs, one is pretty much Jodie (my ex's shih-tzu) and the other is a small black fella, similar to my old lakeland terrier, Ike. I park in the lay-by outside the house and there is a problem with the car. It has turned into a black BMW by now. In order to raise the bonnet there is a complicated series of flaps that have to be pulled back in one manouevre, and I fumble a few times trying to do them singly before I get it. There, the engine is exposed, but I'm still unsure of what to do. I go back to the boot and fumble around in there. In the process, a lot of litter is dislodged and chocolate bar wrappers and other detritus flood out onto the road and pavement. When I look there is a hell of a lot of litter and I shake my head, but shrug. I have no intention of gathering it all up and besides, there are no bins. I do have a pang of conscience that it might be obvious who has left it there, since I am the only visitor this morning but I decide to ignore it. Meanwhile I try to open the bonnet again, only this time after doing the same complex procedure I realise it is the car next to mine, which is similar. It has turned into a silver-grey toyota or Honda (typical low-slung, rear-spoilered jap thing) by now, and I curse my mistake. Going back to the car proper I am convinced it is now going to start. I notice that the main difference between this motor and the one I mistakenly just opened the bonnet on is that mine is left-hand drive, and I think that it's funny I never noticed that before. It's not my car, I'm doing an errand for someone. Anyhow, I get the keys in and turn the engine and it fires up. Now I realise the dogs have escaped and were wandering around the whole time I was messing about. I get out to herd them in, but they have both obediently climbed in the back, and I'm satisfied. All I have to do now is drop off the package, and I go to enter the old woman's garden, but as I get to the gate I notice that someone has climbed into the driver seat. My keys are in the ignition and he is going to try and make off. I leg it quickly and just manage to get my fingers in the door before he can close it. I am stronger and this weasel is forced out as I prise the door open. I am philosophical about it and he gives a sort of sheepish shrug and says 'well you can't blame me for trying'. I know it is my fault for not being vigilant, but at least I have the car, and I drive off, chastened by the experience and vowing to be more careful in future, which I almost always am.
* ironically this helps to commit them to memory when I wake.
** I noticed a sign there on the way past a few times, outside the terraced houses in the layby on the main road, that says 'no loading' mon-fri, 7am-9.30am. Fair enough, rush hour and all that. But then it says it for Saturday too, and I wonder how you'd get on if you wanted to move house. Hey ho, random thoughts. I decided you'd just ignore it, no loading on a saturday is silly, and there are no shops or businesses there, just houses.
Later on I dream that I'm awake, and I have the notebook at the side of the bed that I promised myself I'd put there (I haven't yet) to record the dreams. I'm writing down the dreams I just had, before I forget them. I scribble down this dream and the next one.*
I'm in a sports car and I have to drop something off at a house, which is on the top of Deane Road going towards uni.** It is for an old lady and I have a deeper purpose in her life (perhaps I am going to live there or she is some sort of benefactor) but it is hazy. In the car are two dogs, one is pretty much Jodie (my ex's shih-tzu) and the other is a small black fella, similar to my old lakeland terrier, Ike. I park in the lay-by outside the house and there is a problem with the car. It has turned into a black BMW by now. In order to raise the bonnet there is a complicated series of flaps that have to be pulled back in one manouevre, and I fumble a few times trying to do them singly before I get it. There, the engine is exposed, but I'm still unsure of what to do. I go back to the boot and fumble around in there. In the process, a lot of litter is dislodged and chocolate bar wrappers and other detritus flood out onto the road and pavement. When I look there is a hell of a lot of litter and I shake my head, but shrug. I have no intention of gathering it all up and besides, there are no bins. I do have a pang of conscience that it might be obvious who has left it there, since I am the only visitor this morning but I decide to ignore it. Meanwhile I try to open the bonnet again, only this time after doing the same complex procedure I realise it is the car next to mine, which is similar. It has turned into a silver-grey toyota or Honda (typical low-slung, rear-spoilered jap thing) by now, and I curse my mistake. Going back to the car proper I am convinced it is now going to start. I notice that the main difference between this motor and the one I mistakenly just opened the bonnet on is that mine is left-hand drive, and I think that it's funny I never noticed that before. It's not my car, I'm doing an errand for someone. Anyhow, I get the keys in and turn the engine and it fires up. Now I realise the dogs have escaped and were wandering around the whole time I was messing about. I get out to herd them in, but they have both obediently climbed in the back, and I'm satisfied. All I have to do now is drop off the package, and I go to enter the old woman's garden, but as I get to the gate I notice that someone has climbed into the driver seat. My keys are in the ignition and he is going to try and make off. I leg it quickly and just manage to get my fingers in the door before he can close it. I am stronger and this weasel is forced out as I prise the door open. I am philosophical about it and he gives a sort of sheepish shrug and says 'well you can't blame me for trying'. I know it is my fault for not being vigilant, but at least I have the car, and I drive off, chastened by the experience and vowing to be more careful in future, which I almost always am.
* ironically this helps to commit them to memory when I wake.
** I noticed a sign there on the way past a few times, outside the terraced houses in the layby on the main road, that says 'no loading' mon-fri, 7am-9.30am. Fair enough, rush hour and all that. But then it says it for Saturday too, and I wonder how you'd get on if you wanted to move house. Hey ho, random thoughts. I decided you'd just ignore it, no loading on a saturday is silly, and there are no shops or businesses there, just houses.
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