It was a dismal wet day in July, the clocks were striking 6 am. Jacob Simpson, his arms outstretched, body flattened in an attempt to slip through the doorway of his bedroom, not as low profile to the wall as he would have liked, he was unable to prevent the ear bleeding screech of the non-oiled hinges from following him to his destination.
The hallway smelt of baked beans and musty flip flops. At one end of it Jacob’s bedroom, impossibly messy for such a small room, the door slowly swung back to its closed position screeching once more, at the other end was the living room, the door cracked open, an uncurtained window facing towards the ocean 8 ft x 5 ft resembled a water damaged impressionist painting of a grey wall.
Having attempted and failed to switch on the Telescreen (instrument) Jacob made for his parents bedroom. It was no use his parents trying to remain asleep, once awake Jacob was an unstoppable force. It was a part of the deal if Jacob didn’t wake his parents up, they would try to avoid shouting at him throughout the rest of the day, this rarely if ever happened. However this was the first of two weeks of their annual vacation and tempers were somewhat subdued, it was Jacob’s lucky day. We all arose and headed downstairs for breakfast. The apartment was split level, the kitchen diner area was at the downstairs rear of the property. A box gazed down from the top of the fridge freezer, It was one of those boxes that draw you in as you move closer. SHREDDIES – Delicious crispy squares with a yummy, malty taste, the caption on the box said.
Inside the flat a jaunty voice was shouting out a collection of unconnected words over raucous guitar sounds, which had something to do with predicting a riot. The sound came from an a squarish plastic black box with knobs and buttons on it. Sam turned a knob and the voice sank somewhat, though the music was still distinguishable.
Outside, even through the steamed up kitchen window-pane, the world looked cold. Outside the window was a shit blue car blocking the drive way. During breakfast it had been decided that The Doctor Who exhibition at Lands End was today’s destination, however there was no escape for now. The usual rituals of watching CBeebies, Quincy and having lunch took the family to midday. The shit blue car had thankfully been moved and it was time to move on.
The one way system forced the family to leave via the back roads, the rain pelted down but the family soon arrived at Lands End for their afternoon of entertainment. The Doctor Who Exhibition – Docerooexsibishan, in Pasty-speak [Pasty-speak was the official language of Lands End. For an account of its structure and etymology see Appendix I.] was startling different to the other exhibitions at Lands End, in that it wasn’t shit. The family stayed for a couple of hours and returned to their accommodation. On return spontaneous sunshine was provided and was enjoyed for precisely 45 minutes.
Evening nourishment was scheduled for 5:30 pm as was standard for the era, pasta was the only option available for Wednesdays or MidWeek [Pasty-speak]. A half hour of exercise [local bylaws for Cornwall state 2 games of Air Hockey as the legal minimum level of exercise] by decree was carried out before returning to their accommodation the final time for that day.
Jacob Simpson spent two hours completing his moral programming for the evening. Shaun of The Dead providing today’s lessons.