TT9 - Eric visits Geoffrey Lamb

To adquately describe Geoffrey Lamb's bathroom would require a lexicon of filth not yet provided by the English language. There are any number of words that might give a general account of its neglect, but to distinguish more precisely between the dermal slurry cotaing the inside of the soap dish, the jacket of dust insulating the out-pipe of the lavatory, and the quarter of an inch of brown liquid lurking in the bottom of the cracked toilet brush holder would require the kind of finely nuanced vocabulary normally associated with Eskimos and snow. "Oh dear" Eric thinks. "Geoffrey is such a lovely man, but he really does live in the most appalling squalor."

Geoffrey Lamb is indeed a lovely man. With his wavey white hair, his plump, almost feminine body, and his gentle, quizzical face he resembles a rather lovely old sheep.
"It's so lovely to see you, Eric." Geoffrey says in his slow, deliberate voice when his guest returns from the bathroom. "Now, would you like a cup of tea?"
Eric, who has seen Geoffrey's kitchen, says. "Not for me, Geoffrey, thanks, I had one before I left."
"Biscuit?"
"Better not." Eric pats his non-existent belly and perches on the tattered armchair on the other side of the fireplace.
"Now then, my friend. Tell me how you are!" The sincerity of the questions throws Eric for a moment.
"Oh...I'm fine. And you?
Geoffrey leans his head on one side and stares gently into Eric's eyes. "Im really not at all bad, Eric. And thank you for asking." He holds his gaze with his clear, pale blue eyes.
"Good, good!"
"And how is Eleanor?"
"She's fine, she's fine. Busy, as usual."
"Of course, yes." He says compassionately. "And Rabbit, and young Basil?"
"They're fine. Yes. Growing up!"
"Aah!" He raises his finger and his eyes brighten. "That reminds me." He pulls himself up out of his chair and shuffles over to a mound of old books and boxes in the corner. He rummages for a bit. "Yes - there it is!" He pulls something from the corner, splaying a pile of books across the floor.

He returns to his armchair and hands Eric a beatiful little bronze and brass astrolabe. It is clearly an antique.
"Now, the last time I saw Basil, we had a very nice chat about astronomy, and when I got home, I remembered I had this. Do you think he'd like it?"
"I'm sure he'd love it. Are you sure?"
"Absolutely"
"He'll be delighted, Geoffrey. Really. It's very generous.."
Geoffrey waves the fuss away with a soft, pink hand.
"Aah!" He's remembered something else. "Did I tell you, Gabriel is going to take Oyster Cottage for the winter."
"Oh that's right, Anne's off to Australia soon."
"Yes, it's all worked out rather perfectly. Gabriel has been thinking of taking a short break. Or a 'rest' as these actors call it. He's been absolutely flat out for the last three years, poor love. He's done terribly well, you know."
"Yes. We saw him the other night, as a matter of fact, BBC1 I think it was, playing a doctor who murders his wife."
"Ah yes" Geoffrey's eyes twinkle. "That was rather fun wasn't it. He wants to have a go at writing, actually - plays. I imagine he'll be rather good at it. So, anyway, when I told him Oyster Cottage was available for a few months he jumped at the chance to get out of London for a bit."
"Well, that'll be nice, to have your son so near."
"Yes it will, won't it?"

Eric drums the threadbare arms of his chair with his fingertips. Geoffrey's two Parson's Russell's have come into the room and are sniffing at his trouser legs. "Have you heard?" He tries to nudge them away discretely. "Glandice is thinking of starting an annual arts festival, here in Tendringhoe."
"Yes, isn't it a super idea? She's asked me to take over the literary side of things. Which is very sweet of her."
"Ah." This stops Eric in his tracks slightly. "Well...very good. Very good."
"I've mentioned it around to a few of my writer pals in London and they've all been most supportive. Even dear old Michael Mead has agreed to come and do some readings from his latest collection - it's marvellous, by the way, have you read it? - and you know how busy he is these days. Bless his soul."
"Well, if there's anything I can do to help. I've been dabbling with the muse a bit myself, lately..." Eric squeezes back a smile and lowers his eyelids modestly.
"Splendid!"
"So, if you need any assistance."
"Well it really is most kind of you to offer Eric. Bless you."

They fall silent. Eric decides to make a bit of a fuss of the dogs to pass the time but they appear to have some sort of flotsam hanging from their chops and he only manages a couple of half-hearted pats.
"Well, I suppose I should be pushing off." Eric says after a while.
"Ah yes, of course."
Eric gets up from the chair. He knows his back is covered in white dog hairs. "It's been lovely to see you Geoffrey." He extends a hand and Geoffrey shakes it warmly with both of his.
"Likewise, Eric, likewise."