Every morning Pete arrives at the gates that block the public from the street where he works. He’s been there so often that every Police officer on duty knows his name. His reputation proceeds him, as does his nickname and this morning an officer he has never seen before touches his hat, winks and says, “Morning pee pee,” as he opens the gate.
Pete shuffles through, sighing deeply. He does wish they wouldn’t call him that.as it makes him sound incontinent, which given his advancing years and growing prostate might not be entirely inaccurate but he knows that it’s just the initials of his nickname.
“Busy day for you, mate.”
The copper is still trying to make conversation. Pete isn’t feeling particularly chatty today. Some days he loves nothing better than to stop and discuss his treasures but as the lad had said today was going to be a busy day. Again. Another busy day. So soon after the last one.
The faint smell of beeswax polish follows him into the building and all the way down into the basement where he spends his days with his precious collection. He moves between the 245 pieces of unique furniture in his care, stroking and naming each one. He pats a light oak one with a twisted base that reminds him of a Jenga game.
“Sorry Bessie. Last time out for you, old girl. I know, I know, it’s not surprising, given what’s happened but it is a shame. You really are a beauty.”
Pete spends a little extra time waxing and polishing before two boys in black jeans and T-shirts come to take her outside. Pete suspects they spend too much time in the gym, looking at themselves and other pretty boys in the mirror.
He wanders around, muttering to himself, trying to make the right choice.
“Too dark, Bert. Too fussy, Herbert. Too tall, Brenda.”
He stops before a sleek beechwood specimen, with square bevelled edges and says, “Oh Alan, you’ll be perfect.”
The muscled lads bring Bessie back and take Alan and Pete talks in a soft calming voice to the returning movable, tending to the piece with polish and cloth until Alan is also returned to him.
“Let’s hope you’re not needed too often, Al,” Pete says dipping his cloth into a special pot of ting oil and beginning to work in small circles over the item of furniture.
When he leaves, Pete notices that the officer on duty is Rosie. She’s one of his favourites; always happy to chat and often tells him how his tips have saved her coffee table from coffee rings (a cool iron and tissue paper) , red wine (salt) and nail polish(hairspray). He does wonder how she can be so clumsy.
“Hey Pete. You’re famous. It’s all over Twitter. With so many changes of Prime Minister. They’ve finally noticed Podium Pete. Obviously not as famous as ‘hot podium guy’ but your work has been noticed.
“You do know, it’s a lectern, don’t you Rosie?”
“Oh I know, a podium is something you stand on. Rishi could do with one, don’t you think?”
“I was just checking, you know, because you do call me Podium Pete.”
“Yeah, right, I know. But Peter, Keeper of the Lecterns is such a mouthful .”
No comments:
Post a Comment