Steve Cram Opens His Legs

My Dear Fellow,

It is hard to muster enthusiasm for work these days. I get up and I sigh. I pull on my clothes and sigh. I see the bus approach and my shoulders slump. I get to my desk and imagine it is 8 hours later.

It is all these nights out we are going on at present. They are wearing me out, pleasant though they are, and nice though it is that everyone wants to say goodbye and say nice things to you. “Sometimes I think emigrating is like being allowed to go to your own wake,” I told Er Indoors. “Only you’re not deid.”

To make matters worse today, that most heinous of office crimes – a meeting scheduled OVER LUNCHTIME – dampened my deflated spirits still further.

Ninety minutes of pointless, directionless waffle later and I needed to clear my head. So after work I decided to take a long walk.

I picked up our train tickets to London and blipped my way around old town. The festival is still going strong in its final week and everyone seemed in a very good mood. It cheered me up and put me in the right frame of mind to meet Bokhara & Mrs. Bokhara at Hector’s for dinner.

They were already there when we arrived. Bokhara was worrying a splinter in his finger. “Ooooh, it’s driving me up the wall,” he complained and he kneaded and pushed at his knuckle like he was making fresh baps.

Neither Er Indoors or I had seen Mrs. B for ages. It was lovely to see her again and she hasn’t changed a bit. “Will you bloody STOP it with your hand!” she hissed to Bokhara. He did. For about 3 seconds. Meanwhile, we caught up with the latest news on the Bokhara Kids. G is now a world traveller and wants to go to China.

"This from a girl who won't eat anything unless it's from Nando's," said her father sourly.

Meanwhile, J has discovered his inner Michael Buble and has got into musical theatre in a big way. They both sound as if they are doing very well. But now here is our waiter with menus…

“What can I get you?” he beamed.
“You haven’t got a pin have you? This bloody splinter is doing my head in,” said Bokhara.
“Bokhara! Will you give it a rest?!?” spluttered his long-suffering wife.
“I’ll see what I can do,” said the waiter, leaving us to make our meal choices.
“Oh, and a beer,” added Bokhara.

The waiter, bless him, appeared with TWO different pins five minutes later and Bokhara got stuck in. “Not at the table Bokhara!” said Mrs. B.

But it was too late. "Look at the size of that!" he announced, showing it to the waiter.

"Very impressive!" said the waiter.

"Bokhara!" remonstrated Mrs. B.

“Don’t worry about it Bokhara,” soothed the waiter. “You carry on while I take the orders.”

The waiter – Chris – was brilliant, he and Bokhara were soon firm friends. Bokhara just does that wherever he goes doesn’t he? It’s like how he became best mates with the staff at that restaurant in Wiesbaden simply by blundering into the Ladies. I would have been arrested. Bokhara then started in on the waitresses, berating one of them for breaking the coffee machine and telling her that she could make it up to him by bringing over a bottle of port instead.

So it was a very funny evening. By the end of it, Chris had pulled up a chair and joined us. I think he had a great time. He also got a good tip. “You saved that man’s hand,” I told Chris. “If it hadn’t been for you with your pin, that whole arm would have had to come off.” For his part, Chris told us some stories about his time working on cruise ships around Australia and New Zealand.

I have to say, Hector's is a lovely venue, very convivial and friendly. I took a picture of their eccentric light fittings - standard lamps screwed into the ceiling. "My parents had one just like the one at the front," said Er Indoors.

Bokhara got a little emotional toward the end of the evening. “I know I only see you about once a year,” he told me. “But it was nice to know you were there.”

Of course, I will still be “there”. Just that “there” is now on the other side of the world. They both promised to come and visit us though, when G has left home and J can be trusted on his own. We got hugs outside The Stockbridge Tap where we had stopped for one – make that two – and a chaser – for the road.

I kind of know what Bokhara means. It is nice for us to know that there is always a home away from home for us in Carlisle too. I hope he knows we are still "always there". And that “there” is wherever we are. I hope you know that too.

Parsones