Riotous Retirement (2 page)

After about half an hour sitting sadly in his chair just thinking what this could possibly be about it suddenly came to him that Brenda had asked him to put the next load into the dishwasher. Not surprisingly Gabriel and Brenda had had a dishwasher for the past 20 or 30 years but Gabriel had never used one—ever! Why would she ask me to use it now, he thought, but it can’t be that difficult everybody has one. Anyway I’d better have a go and please God the old Brenda will be back here in the morning. The machine was quiet so he heaved himself out of his chair and went over to the kitchen. He reached down and pulled at the door of the machine. It opened. Now Brenda had said to put the next load on but he couldn’t do that because the machine was already full of dishes—she hadn’t mentioned that!

Gabriel’s brain, although it was now in full domestic task mode, was still struggling, mainly because of a pronounced lack of brain programming in the area of domestic tasks. What was he supposed to do with the dishes already in the machine? Where did they go? He didn’t know where so he managed to get them out and stack them on the only bit of benchtop space left. It took a very long time because he was half-way through drying them before discovering that they were dry already!

Now because of this dishwasher-emptying exercise, Gabriel’s brain was almost programmed enough to allow him to use it to re-stack the dishwasher with the rest of the dirty dishes. So far, so good. Soon he had all the dishes into the machine. He closed the door and wondered what he had to do now. He had a choice of buttons to press each with a little message printed on the surface, some glowing green and some unlit but it was far from clear that pressing any of them meant ‘start the dishwashing process now’. He pressed what he thought was the most logical, the machine gave a groan and a water swishing noise and a red light came on. The door wouldn’t open again so he gave up and went back to the television.

Gabriel never enjoyed his own company, he could not concentrate on the television and he kept thinking about Brenda and praying that she would be different in the morning. But he had managed to put the dishes into the dishwasher.

“Had a problem with the dishwasher last night then?” Brenda asked when Gabriel appeared next morning—still with a touch of frost in her voice Gabriel thought.

“Yes” he replied “but I put in the next load as you asked.”

“Okay, now have you thought more about getting a cleaner?” Brenda asked.

“Look love, I know you have always done the housework and I love you and am very grateful for all that you do but I don’t think a cleaner is what we need. If you can just teach me the buttons on that machine I will do the dishes in future. How would that be?”

“It’s a start I suppose,” said Brenda, then, “okay Gabriel but we still have to solve the problem of cleaning this huge house,” and she emphasised ‘huge’.

Gabriel was thankful for small mercies and he didn’t think a reply to Brenda’s last statement was necessary. Besides he had a distinct feeling that if he did respond he would be the loser. So he remained silent. He still didn’t cotton-on to the real problem although he did recognise that the problem was not solved; but hey, he could feel the thaw—and that was great!

It was the following Thursday, late morning. Gabriel had treated himself to a long lie in bed. He had been out at a mate’s house playing poker until late the night before. He had lost a few dollars, mainly because he always seemed to be answering questions about France or his ancestry that his opponents asked him every time he should really have been concentrating on the cards. Never mind, they were all good listeners, Gabriel’s mates, and what’s a few bucks between friends?

It was 11.00 am before he wandered down for breakfast which Brenda always prepared for him no matter what time he got out of bed. But all that he found on the table was a note from Brenda.

Out dress shopping with Beatrice and Mary. Back for dinner 6.00 pm or so. Here’s what you need from the shop, for you to cook your usual tomorrow —cul de veal—whatever! We have the other ingredients.

Rump of veal

Cream

Dry white wine

Have we got Brandy?

Chillies

Garlic

Cinnamon

And better get some nibbles and stuff.

Love

Brenda PS Enjoy the shopping!

Now Gabriel was without breakfast but that was the least of his problems. Just as he had never used the dishwasher he had never gone shopping on his own. He only went with Brenda if there was absolutely no way of getting out of it. And he recognised the sarcasm in ‘
enjoy the shopping
’. He also knew, and he knew that Brenda knew, that he never really cooked the main dish. Sure he talked about cooking it but he was only joking really. Brenda had never asked him to do the shopping before and surely she didn’t really mean it when she had written ‘
for you to cook
.’ Something was definitely up, and anyhow where was the bloody shop?

He put two slices of bread into the toaster. He would eat more up at the shopping centre.

Gabriel drove to the centre, parked the car and decided the first thing to do was to have some breakfast. He bought a paper and ordered bacon and eggs at the café Brenda and he usually frequented. A waitress that he and Brenda knew well served Gabriel’s bacon and eggs.

“Where do you suppose I would get this lot Mary?” Gabriel asked as he handed her the note.

“At Woolies of course” answered Mary. “Is Brenda not well then?” 

Even Mary thought it very odd that Gabriel was shopping on his own. Now in all those years that he had been pretending to know about cooking this dish, he assumed that his wife had been getting the exotic ingredients required at some specialist shop or other. He never entertained the idea that they would come from a common Woolworths—a shop that everyone goes to for the day-to-day necessities of life—but at least he knew where Woolies was located.

Just over an hour later Gabriel emerged from Woolies with all that was required—but this had been achieved only by a tremendous effort on his part and the diligence and patience of several of Woolworths’ assistants.

How much rump did he want—a whole one, a half, what?

Cream—was that single, double, thickened or cream custard?

Wine and brandy—he knew about that—okay!

Chillies—was that small red ones or larger green ones and how many kilograms or grams did he need, or should he get the powder in the little jar?

Garlic—he got a kilogram just to be on the safe side.

Cinnamon—sticks or a jar? He took a handful of sticks and two little jars. That should be enough!

Nibbles —what the hell was this and where on earth in this huge shop would he find something that looked vaguely like the picture in his head of what Brenda usually provided for nibbles. Brenda had stick things, stuff in little dishes that you put little straw things into and little biscuits with coloured things on them. He had absolutely no idea what anything was called!

Suffice to say that Woolworths had a huge loss from Gabriel’s shopping trip due to the wages they had to pay the staff to help him. After he had asked several of the assistants really stupid questions they got the message and sent a knowledgeable girl with him to go around and judge as near as possible what he required. He was the talk of Woolworths’ staff for the rest of the week, and the butt of many jokes—the fat man that was going to buy a kilogram of hot red chillies—but Gabriel knew nothing of this of course.

By the time Brenda arrived home that night in time to cook something for dinner he was really worried. Brenda knew this just by the look of him and she had a great laugh when she checked on the shopping, enough cinnamon to do them for the rest of their lives but, bless him, he had managed to get everything. But this was not the time to sympathise; this was the time to strike the final blow!

“You did well with the shopping dear”, said Brenda, “I hope you are just as successful with the cooking tomorrow morning.”

“What do you mean the cooking tomorrow?”

“You know, the veal in white wine sauce, that thing you always boast to your pals about. I just thought you should have the chance to do it all on your own and not have me interfering all the time.  Anyway I have decided to start the spring-cleaning tomorrow, all the bedrooms first and then I’ll start on the cupboards but no worries I’ll stay out of your way in the kitchen. I’ll do the kitchen next week.”

Well that sent Gabriel over the top. He sat there and said nothing for a full minute. He just looked directly at Brenda, his eyes blinking as though even that was an effort. Then he spoke.

“So this really is about getting a cleaner for our house. I can see that now. Do you think you could possibly give me some help tomorrow love? You know very well that it’s you that always does the cooking. You are so clever and hard working and...”

Gabriel couldn’t continue. He was a broken man and Brenda’s heart went out to him.

No more, she thought, I can’t go on with this. Now is the time to put an end to it.

“There is a way my dear.”

As she uttered these words she could see the normal Gabriel gradually return and a glimmer of hope could be observed in that very forlorn expression of a minute ago. And although Brenda was very sorry for her husband at this point, she also knew what was required to achieve her goal and so she spoke very carefully and clearly.  “I will do all the cooking tomorrow in the usual way with you chopping the carrots and stirring the pot occasionally. We will entertain our guests as usual and you can have your RSL mates around next time just as we had them last week and all I ask from you is one thing only!”

“And what is that?” said Gabriel. At this point Brenda knew well that Gabriel was ready to hire an army of house cleaners, carpet cleaners and window cleaners—anything to get things back to normal.

“We will both drive to the Burnside Retirement Village Open Day on Sunday and we will look at the houses available for sale.”

Gabriel had recovered sufficiently by this time to consider answering in the negative to this statement. Brenda sensed this and so she continued before he could open his mouth:

“Consider carefully before you comment Gabriel. If you do not come with me and at least consider what is available at this retirement village you will be doing all your own shopping and cooking and entertaining on your own. I will never be there to see your RSL friends ever again.”

“So it’s not the cleaning after all,” said Gabriel. “Yes alright love, the Burnside Open Day next Sunday, fine.”

It had been hard work but well worth it. That’s round one Brenda thought. 

Persuading Gabriel

To move there must be a plan
Plan A  -  was convincing the man
Using skill and feminine wile
Brenda primed Gabe in remarkable style
This is the tale of how it began

Open Day

Alex was the caretaker at the village and had heard this briefing on previous occasions but still he listened because he knew that Helga Marchmont, the manager at the Burnside Retirement Village, had it all figured out. She was in her stride and strictly on message!

“Don’t waste time on any couple if the female’s not keen,” she briefed the staff. Forty-ish or perhaps a well preserved older model, Ms. Helga Marchmont was dressed immaculately. Heels a noticeable but relatively modest 12 centimetres, suit with pencil slim knee length dark skirt, she projected a steely authority as she paced slowly back and forth, hands clasped behind her back. The decorative buttons on the shoulder epaulettes of her well cut suit jacket glinted occasionally as she moved. Helga looked carefully at her staff, her eyes absorbing every detail of their dress. She turned to pace slowly in the opposite direction and continued the briefing.

“If the woman is not very keen they are probably not here to buy so you’re working alone to convince them that the village is for them—because men are very seldom keen at the start. On the other hand if the lady is keen you’ve already got a two to one advantage, and there’s a great chance that you will also have other family members on side, so go for it. The men always crumble on the second visit.”

There was no doubt that Helga knew what she was talking about. During open inspection days she insisted on the co-operation of all village staff members—and it took the sales ladies, office secretary, caretaker and also the gardener to ensure success. Alex couldn’t help feeling that he was back on the army parade ground and that at any moment Helga would come up to him and shout in his face. ‘get your haircut man,’ or, ‘tuck your bloody shirt in soldier,’ or some such military demand—it amused him to think such thoughts as Helga went through her routine.  A swagger stick, he thought, yes that’s it, she needs a swagger stick and that would just complete the picture!