WEDNESDAY NOVEMBER 19th 1986 1993
I think the name badge of the girl who looks like Diana says Jennifer Fer. I didn’t want to look too long in case she thought I was a sex pervert. (Fish cakes)
SATURDAY THURSDAY NOVEMBER 20th 1986 1993
Jennifer Fer (that’s definitely her name) (Shepherd’s pie and a banana milkshake) (Not together)
SUNDAY FRIDAY NOVEMBER 21st 1986 1993
Helping Dad in the teahouse today because Mum is ill. Kept thinking about Jennifer Fer.
MONDAY SATURDAY NOVEMBER 22nd 1986 1993
No Jennifer Fer in the food hall today.
TUESDAY SUNDAY NOVEMBER 23rd 1986 1993
Still no Jennifer Fer.
Uh oh, another poem.
TUESDAY SUNDAY NOVEMBER 23rd 1986 1993
Jennifer
Jennifer
Jennifer Fer
Jennifer
Jennifer
Jennifer Fer
Obviously a work in progress.
WEDNESDAY MONDAY NOVEMBER 24th 1986 1993
Jennifer is back! (Mushroom stroganoff)
THURSDAY TUESDAY NOVEMBER 25th 1986 1993
Jennifer gave me an extra roast potato with my lunch today. She had tinsel in her hair. And extra gravy (Not in her hair) (On my plate) (ha ha). After work I went to watch a local DJ switching on the Christmas lights in the village. They’d built a small tower from scaffolding and he stood on a platform on top of the tower next to a lady from the council and together they pulled (or pushed) a switch and the lights came on. It was rubbish. I wish Jennifer Fer was there though. One day I will have to come back by aeroplane from Hollywood or somewhere to turn on the Christmas lights in my old village. Maybe Jennifer Fer will be with me. But maybe she’ll be called Jennifer Ham then.
FRIDAY WEDNESDAY NOVEMBER 26th 1986 1993
Jennifer sat at the same table as me on her coffee break. There were lots of other emptier tables she could have sat at instead. So it must have been her deliberate choice. She said hello and I said hello but then I had to say goodbye straight away as I was going to be late back at work. She smelled of Fruit Salad chews. (Can’t remember what I ate)
SATURDAY THURSDAY NOVEMBER 27th 1986 1993
At lunchtime someone set off the fire alarm in the food hall and we had to all go and stand outside until the fire brigade came. When we were outside Jennifer Fer came up to me and asked me what my name was and where I worked and things like that. I told her I demonstrated model helicopters at the toyshop next door, although I was really an actor and it was good practice for performing for the public. (Sausages, green beans and potatoes) ((Left to go cold on table during fire alarm)) (((It wasn’t me who set off the alarm just so I could talk to Jennifer Fer))) ((((Although it would have been a brilliant idea if it had been))))
SUNDAY FRIDAY NOVEMBER 28th 1986 1993
Helping Dad again. Dropped a trifle and Dad started to cry a bit. I think it’s because Mum is ill. Kept thinking about Jennifer.
TUESDAY SUNDAY NOVEMBER 30th 1986 1993
ST ANDREW’S DAY
Jennifer came and watched me fly helicopters.
WEDNESDAY MONDAY DECEMBER 1st 1986 1993
I was in the lunch queue and Jennifer Fer pinched and punched me for the first of the month. (Shepherd’s pie)
THURSDAY TUESDAY DECEMBER 2nd 1986 1993
I’m taking Jennifer out on Friday!! (Baked potato and coleslaw)
‘Could we have a table by the window please?’ Jarvis had asked the rather handsome young waiter when he came in through the restaurant doors with Jennifer Fer as though he was some Hollywood big shot and it was a packed out exclusive and impossible to get a table in sort of restaurant.
It wasn’t.
‘Your usual table? Certainly sir. Can I take madam’s coat?’ the rather handsome young waiter said. Jennifer took off her green waterproof raincoat and handed it to the waiter, who looked around for a cloakroom or a coat hook on which to hang it.
There wasn’t one.
The not packed out not exclusive and not impossible to get a table in sort of restaurant had no cloakroom or coat hooks. It was a Mister Breakfast. The same Mister Breakfast Jarvis Ham had not long ago left to pursue his acting career (demonstrating remote control helicopters at a toyshop on the edge of a field between a farm shop and a garden centre on the A38 half a mile away). The same Mister Breakfast where I was still working. Still working, still not cooking. Still only Master Breakfast. Yup, you guessed it Poindexter. That rather handsome young waiter was me.
I showed them to a table by the window. Where the sun had faded the Formica tabletop and somebody had carved the word DIE into it. I would have pulled Jennifer Fer’s chair out for her but it was bolted to the floor. I folded her raincoat over the back of the chair, gave her and Jarvis laminated menus – also faded in the sun – and took out my order pad.
‘Drinks?’
I brought them their drinks and their meals and I acted like the perfect waiter and kept up the pretence that Jarvis was a local big shot to help him impress his girlfriend. And how could she not be impressed by a man who chose to walk her, in the pouring rain, dodging the speeding traffic and exploding puddles, along the busy slip road from the garden centre to one of Britain’s worst roadside restaurants for their first date?
As they were eating their dessert I refilled the tomato shaped plastic bottles and wiped the egg yolk and gravy off nearby tables so I could eavesdrop. They seemed to get on like a house on fire.
‘I think I’ll make acting my life,’ Jarvis said as he poured Jennifer Fer a
