I saw Mr Tickle at the garden centre today. It probably marks the first time I have ever bumped into someone I know at a garden centre. He was on his own, pushing a trolley, listlessly around with a box of lawn feed to keep him company. He said he was also after compost and citrus feed but, I think, he was just enjoying wandering listlessly.
He does a good listless, does Frank Tickle. When he’s not annoying Nicktor that is. It’s like he suddenly becomes motivated when there’s a chance to tease Mr C.
Mirinda was also impressed with his sense of humour. She hasn’t seen him for probably 15 years (I can’t find the blog entry, but we all met at a barbecue at the Cansfield residence) but remembered his daughter, Alice, sitting on her knee. Alice is now 21 and studying fine arts in Falmouth. So she probably doesn’t do that any more.
When Mirinda suggested it was odd to see a man, alone, wandering listlessly around a garden centre, he disagreed but then said it was because everyone at home was feeling poorly and he just wanted to get out of the house.
When we talked about Nicktor’s new residence, he said he’d not been invited over. When I said that we had, he claimed that that was because I’m in the top friendship tier. He, on the other hand, is somewhere much lower down.
He maintains his low position is because every time he stands on the Slab, Aldershot don’t win. In fact, he’s never seen them win. At all. He reckons that there’s a collective groan on the Slab if he turns up.
He may be right. It might also be because he rearranges everything in Nicktor’s car whenever he’s in it.
It was a lovely chance encounter.
