Wordsley, Stourbridge, England: 10 degrees, cold, grey and overcast.
It is the middle of the week, and I’m already tired. It’s been a marathon of a week, my birthday week, and it’s still going on.
On Saturday, we visited Stourport and Bewdley with Austin and had lunch at the Hop Pole pub, which was decent but not outstanding. Later, Julie told me she was not very impressed with the fettuccine she had ordered. I had thought she had ordered poorly, as England is not exactly the centre of Italian colonisation and cuisine. But I didn’t say anything at the time.
On Sunday, we didn’t see each other during the day; in the evening, we went to The Old Wharf for a drink, and we loved it. It was quiet and intimate. We made friends with Dan, the barman, and the special couple, Ian and Hailey.
Julie loved it!
On Monday, it was my birthday. I wanted to go out for lunch with my mother, but she wasn’t feeling well. She also tried to negotiate the evening, but I told her they had plans, which she did not like. Julie and I ended up at The Island Pool pub and restaurant, which, although not the most sophisticated place, was also not the roughest. The food was good, and we were the last to leave, which was a nice touch. We spent about an hour smooching in the car park, which was very enjoyable and memorable.
Yesterday, Tuesday, was a bit miserable, with rain at times. Since it was a bank holiday in Rio, I had very few classes, which gave me an opportunity to do something special again with Julie. We took a long walk from The Old Wharf, probably our favourite spot in the whole world at the moment. We strolled along the canal to The Fish, where we visited the Ruskin Glass Centre, enjoyed a coffee, and chatted with the natives.
After leaving, we walked up to Wollaston, then back to Stourbridge, and along Enville Street. We were relatively close to The Old Wharf and the car, but Julie suggested ’Cup’, a new trendy cafe in Coventry Street. The place was elegant, and spending an hour there was sublime. All this in my birthday week, and it still hasn’t finished yet.
I am gradually resuming my exercise routine, so when I got up this morning, I did a light workout, prepared and posted a blog, and gave a class. I don’t have many classes on Wednesday mornings, but I do have some in the late afternoon. I had promised my mum that we would have lunch at The Pavilion, the old Dunlop tyre factory that is now a club with a theatre and a restaurant. The plan was to go to The West Brom building society, which is always a mystery and can be stressful, and then go for lunch at The Pavilion on the other side of Wolverhampton.
My mother and I left home and went to Kingswinford. My mother parked her car and waited while I went to The West Brom to withdraw her money. When I entered, no one was in front of me. I went to the counter, and the attendant attended to me. I gave her the deposit book, and she entered the information on her computer.
Then, she told me there was a problem. She said she would have to speak with the manageress, a middle-aged woman, impeccably dressed with the posture and attitude of someone who thinks they are better and more important than they really are.
In 30 seconds, she stormed out of a side meeting room, essentially telling me I was not welcome and that I could only withdraw my mother’s money at the Stourbridge branch. I, non-reactive as cool as a cucumber, said nothing, only ok; actions often speak louder than words, especially through indifference.
When I returned to the car, my mother thought I was joking when I told her they had refused to let me withdraw her money. More stress, but it’s life, and we carried on to The Pavilion. Now, my mother is driving at a snail’s pace because she cannot see very well ahead. I get the impression her eyesight is worsening rapidly.
I paid for the lunch with my card because my mother didn’t have any money, and even if she did, I would have paid.
What caught my attention about the place was the entrance. A beautiful yet simple entrance with lots of greenery and a driveway lined with trees leading to the main building and car park. Outside the main gates, in the street, probably one of the roughest, greyest, and ugliest neighbourhoods of Wolverhampton, but inside it was a haven of tranquillity, silence, and greenery, an oasis amid all the grey of urban Wolverhampton.
What also caught my attention was the extreme politeness of the barmen when ordering food—exceptionally well-trained, helpful, and nicer than average. The food, essentially glorified pub food, was decent. The place itself was a large clubroom with many tables and chairs, featuring a stage at one end for shows and cabarets, and a massive bar at the opposite end.
We sat on a raised ledge in front of full-length windows. Now that it was quite sunny, my mother said she wanted to feel the warmth of the sun on her back through the windows. Eventually, with the destination being home, Julie finished work around 2:00 p.m. It was close, but if my mother got a move on, perhaps I could meet Julie for a coffee or a quick kiss before I start work.
Once again, my mother was driving at a snail’s pace. I had told her I wanted her to drop me off at The Green in the village on the way back. I think she deliberately went even slower. I wouldn’t have put it past her. On the return journey, my mother decided to change the route and go around some small nearby villages that are slightly off the main track. I was holding myself back to avoid making things worse; if she was trying to provoke me, she was doing a good job, but I stayed quiet because I was better.
We passed through Wombourne, a beautiful little English village with the cricket club and green in the centre. If I stayed in England, I could live there without any problem. From Wombourne, it connected to Swindon, another lovely little village famous for its pubs,
The Old Bush and The Green Man. I have been there a couple of times with both my mother and Julie. We didn’t stop, and now, after the round trip, we were arriving in Kingswinford and then Wordsley. It was close, so I asked my mother to leave me on the corner near the green, so I would just need to walk up.
She asked me what I was planning to do, and I told her I was going to write and after see Luke; if I said I was going to see Julie, there would likely be some confusion or retaliation later.
I got out of the car and walked up to Wordsley Green. I turned towards the café where Julie works, and as I was entering, Diane, her colleague, was near the door. She told me that Julie had just gone, but she thinks she’s in the pet shop next door. I went next door, and she was there at the counter buying something for Austin.
She looked happy to see me. When we left the shop, we kissed, and she said that if I wanted, we could have a coffee. She mentioned she would like it very much, but not at the café where she worked. I had to visit the chemist to buy some cough mixture, so we arranged to meet at her car. When I arrived, we couldn’t decide where to go, but eventually, we decided on The Lawnswood pub, a popular, lively, fun pub just half a mile away.
We pulled out of the car park and descended to the main road. Just as we were going along the main road, my mother was driving along in the opposite direction. How crazy is that? Clearly, my mother was driving around instead of going straight home to see exactly who I was with! Again, how fucked up is that?
I couldn’t believe what had just happened; I was genuinely stunned. My mother was checking on me, an 82-year-old woman. As a mother, she couldn’t just go home; she had to check up on her own son to see what he was doing.
- 0 Emotional intelligence!
- 0 Self-control!
- 0 Empathy!
- 0 Respect!
We went to The Lawnswood and ordered two cappuccinos, which arrived lukewarm, but we didn’t really mind. We were too stunned by what had happened. The barman who served us was from Ireland; I discovered this after asking him about his strong accent. It reminded me of my wild Irish friends in Rio from the past!
We had our coffees, talked a little, kissed a little, laughed a little, and eventually we had to leave. Julie kindly dropped me off, and I had classes until late in the evening.
In bed by midnight.
Thank you.
Thanks for reading this blog post. Please explore my other posts and share your thoughts in the comments section.
Richard
