Charlie and Me. The Saga Continues

Charlie is proving very popular, and there's a lot of people asking for more. So, this is the first instalment of a partwork about Rick and his adventures with Charlie. It meanders a bit, but there's a good reason for that as it lays the groundwork for later shenanigans. And Charlie does appear and go ballistic. 

Then I'll publish another chapter every few days till you all get bored.

The first chapter is here on Wattpad. http://www.wattpad.com/22509104-charlie-and-me-chapter-1#.UgkA_NI3uhs

I like Charlie. You may have guessed.

This chapter is for Renee Heath, who has never once doubted me. And the photo is courtesy of Pinterest.

Charlie and Me. Chapter 2

Anyway, back to now. I had been eavesdropping on the conversation between two yummy mummies subtly trying to out-manoeuvre each other in the Child Achievement Game. You’ll have heard this game being played. Annabel learned violin before she was out of nappies, Archie’s going to Oxford straight after kindergarten, Emily could count to ten the minute she was out of the womb, Alfie’s pre-school thesis on the works of Buxtehude has been accepted. It’s all such bollocks. What is it with competitive parents? If I had children (never refer to them as kids when I’m around or you’ll get an earful; goats have kids, people have children) I’d be over the moon if they had eight fingers, two opposable thumbs, ten toes that weren’t webbed, two of anything else they should have, and were happy. More of this later. And if you have played the Child Achievement Game yourself then shame on you.

I was now chatting idly, as you do, to the guy next to me. He’d come onto the terrace, but the place was deservedly full, so he asked if it would be all right if he sat down at my table. No worries. He had a handsome face that appeared to have been expertly carved out of mahogany, attached at the top to a hairless scalp that was so polished it looked like a very large conker, and at the bottom, via a very impressively muscular neck, to a torso that was at the upper end of big. The world invented the white tee shirt for people built like him. I guessed he would top me in height, and would certainly top me by a long way in body mass and musclepower. He didn’t look like a steroid-packed psychotic, just a naturally muscular bloke.

I’m very interested in names, for reasons you’ll see shortly. He’d told me his name was Sylvester.

‘Hmmm. Excuse me saying so, but that’s a bit of a rough start in life. Although Mr Stallone manages to pull it off.’

‘Yeah, well when my mum was pregnant and had cravings for rollmop herrings, she really liked a song in the late 70s by some singer called Sylvester.’

‘Rollmops? Must have been one hell of a pregnancy. But I know the song. It’s one of my favourite popsongs actually, though it was a bit before my time since I wasn’t born till the year after it was released. (You make me feel) Mighty Real. A disco/early Hi NRG thing.’

Now I do genuinely like the song, but I am also a bit of a trivia fiend. I’m a demon player of Trivial Pursuit. The only time I lose is if I get stalled on a sport question. I’m rubbish on sport. If you’re ever shorthanded in a pub quiz team, I’m your man. I know more than is strictly healthy about loads of stuff, including once correctly identifying ten different water insects in the picture round. When you spend your childhood falling into a lot of streams and ponds you pick stuff up, or at least out of your hair. I once got bitten by a dragonfly larva. They pack quite a nasty nip.

Sorry, I wandered off again there. I think you’ll just have to learn to live with it. I do get back to the point eventually.

‘One-hit wonder. And, errm, I seem to remember he was something of a gay icon. ’