Number Punching

Dept of 'You Had to Be There'

First some history: a week or so back Mum was invited to dinner at one of her posh friends but when she got to the gated closure, the porter had knocked off for his ouzo break, the gates were closed. Nix entry for Mater.

She phoned me, I phoned them and got the code, called mum back with what to punch in.

Orli endaxi.

So that was some weeks back.

Today I'm driving back from Acharavi in my Albanian peasant gear and my Albanian hound and I take the Country Club corner and there's a hire car parked and Lord Snooty barking into the intercom and Sam barking :

"No, don't stop, they look like tourist trash. Drive on."

I pull over and cross the road and punch in 13**. The gates start to swing open.

"Remarkable," says Lord Snooty.

"Quick, Geoffrey," calls Lady S, "before they close again."

I point to the grinding gates and my watch and make a flat dismissive gesture.

I point to their car and do a steering wheel imitation, and point out the sensors in the gate pillars.

"It's all right, darling," says Lord Snooters, "they're on a time switch."

"That's not what he said, Geoffrey. There's some sort of thing that knows when we've gone through."

She looks at me.

"Right? We go pass? (gesture) Gate close after?"

I am dark with sun and gardening. I look like some Albanian labourer.

I nod. Gesture them to go thru.

I don't look back as I cross to the dusty Nissan and gun the engine up.

The Nakamichi sound system kicks back in with Kind of Blue.

I vroom off.