The Lover’s Tiff

I have made no secret of the fact that I harbour a little torch for my walking stick. My feelings may be stronger than that. We are in a relationship. It’s ideal really, because He does not talk back to me.

Since the start of our relationship, there have been a few instances where He has decided to run off. Perhaps it’s because I am high maintenance, I don’t know, but He has these occasional disappearing bouts which leave me heartbroken and in need of Magic FM’s Ten at Ten. For the rest of the time, we are very happy together. We hold hands and He feels valued. I am sure of it.

This week, we had an episode. We had gone out for dinner and on our return, we decided to pop into Sainsbury’s to buy some orange flavoured ice lollies. I thought everything was fine. We had spent some quality time together; things were good. So, imagine my surprise the following evening when I went to leave my flat for an excursion to the BFI, and I discovered that my stick was not there. He had disappeared. He had gone. It was over.

Two days went by. I retraced my steps and I could not think where He had gone. I thought that the end was here. Our relationship was done and I was going to have to confront the outside world by myself. In that two days, I did confront the world by myself and let me tell you something for nothing. Public transport, without my anchor, is terrifying and dangerous. Without Him in my hand, nobody knows I am sick and nobody was willing to give up their seat. Walking down the street, I felt alone and I knew that I am not at the stage in my illness yet, where I can venture outside my front door completely alone.

Fortunately, by Friday, I remembered. I remembered getting so excited that the orange flavoured ice lollies and if I am honest, the Ribena ice lollies were on offer, that I put them in my basket and left Him learning against a glass door staring at the choc ices. I went on to google, I got the telephone number for the Sainsbury’s in Dalston and I dialled. I then asked the embarrassing question.

Me: Um, hello, I know this sounds strange, but do you have a lost property and if yes, has somebody handed in a walking stick?
Sainsbury’s Customer Service, Dalston: No.
Me: [silent devastation]
SCSD: Actually, we have something, it’s silver. Can you describe what it looks like?
Me: Yes. It is silver…. It’s a standard NHS issue walking stick, with a grey rubber handle, and there is a cap missing on the handle so you can store things in it. I love it. It has a rubber bottom as well.
SCSD: Yes, it is here. Just come to the Customer Service Desk.
Me: Thank you so much [exhale].

He was collected later in the day. I approached the desk unaided and left limping. To the passerby, I must have looked like a benefit cheat. I did not dwell on this, for I know why I need my beloved. And let’s face it, if it were not for me, He would have no purpose in life.

People may wonder how I could mange to leave my stick in a store and not realise. It’s not because I am absent minded. No way. It’s not because I cannot multitask. Not even. It’s not because I lose things all the time. Think again. It’s because I am a fool in love with a big, long stick.

20130623-143145.jpg

Every relationship has its ups and downs right?

Advertisements
Tagged , , , , , , ,

One thought on “The Lover’s Tiff

  1. Terri J says:

    Your sarcastic & humorous point of view makes me laugh. My daughter dumped her walking stick. She didn’t like him & although I didn’t really want her to see him anymore at least he was there to protect her when needed. She beat him up one time by getting his foot caught in an elevator door. He lost his rubber foot & was never the same afterwards. I think that’s why she laid him to rest.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: