39. Tea and spuds

I did something on Monday that I know I will come to regret, as the ramifications will affect me for the foreseeable future - but I’d do it again.

On the days that Caroline is at work it is my custom and habit at around 1 pm to walk the 60 yards or so to a rather good café/restaurant around the corner.  I usually order a cheese and tomato or a ham roll, plus a coca cola for my lunch.

I am usually the only man in there.  Ladies of Winchmore Hill who lunch, don’t really have anywhere to go but there.  As I went in I could see that most tables were occupied with a number of women eating their salads and toasted panino.

Monday was cold and feeling both chilly and adventurous, I asked for a cup of tea instead of coke.  The proprietoress was a little miffed at this because she had seen me come in and she had already opened a bottle of coke.

If you have read Chocolate pastry which I posted on Saturday, August 7^th, you will know that I tend to get a bee in my bonnet about the making of tea.  You may remember the distress I suffered at the way Adrienne, a French girl, made my tea but that anguish is as nothing when compared with the suffering, pain and grief that I experienced this week.

On to my table, the ‘lady’ (I won’t name her) placed a cup of hot water, a tea bag still in its paper wrapping on the saucer, a jug of milk and a spoon.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Your tea.”

“No its not!  Tea is made with boiling water.  This isn’t tea.”

“It was boiling.”

“Yes, it may have been once but it certainly isn’t now.”

“That’s how my customers like it,” she said, defiantly.

“Do they?” I asked, incredulously.  “Do they really?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe you,” I said.

“Ooooh,” said the ten or so Winchmore Hill Ladies, who were listening, enthralled.

I was suddenly aware that the place had gone quiet.

“Are you calling me a liar?” the owner asked.

“Aaaaah,” said the Winchmore Hill Ladies, leaning forwards in their seats.

‘Well, yes.  I suppose that I am,” I said, realising that I was way past the point of no return.

So that means that I’ve got to find somewhere else to eat in future.  Was it worth it?  Yes, of course it was.  The Crusade must go on!

********

I bought some shares ten weeks ago.  I have never bought shares before and there are a couple of reasons for this.  First of all I never had the money to speculate with and secondly, I know nothing whatsoever about business and it all seemed too risky to me anyway.

A friend of mine, who works for a small publicly-owned company, told me that things at work were looking up and were actually quite exciting.

“Ten months ago,” he told me, “the shares in the company were priced at 13p each.”  Now they were at 35p, with the prospect of an imminent sharp rise, he thought. 

“Should I buy some?” I asked.

“Oh God no,” he said,  “I’d feel awful if they plummeted back down and you’d never forgive me.”

“Don’t be silly.  Of course I would,” I said.  “It would be like playing a game of poker.  When I start to play poker I always assume that I will lose everything and so if I don’t, even if I’ve lost, I’m still a winner.”

“Well it’s up to you,” he said, “but please don’t spend more than you can afford to lose because things really could go horribly wrong.”

Over the next couple of days I told everyone about this company and the ridiculously underpriced shares.

Two weeks later my brother phoned me and he was jubilant and more excited than I’d ever heard him before.

“Have you heard the news?” he said.  “It was in the Business Report on the radio.  They’ve made a huge discovery in the North Sea.  Biggest since the sixties.”

“What’s the share price now,” I asked.

“74p,” he said.  We’ve more than doubled our money.  I’m going to buy a Mercedes.”

The following morning, my next-door neighbour, two friends, Julian the butcher over the road and a couple of his customers, contacted me by phone or in person to tell me how grateful they were.  I’d never been so popular.

Sadly, I couldn’t join in this euphoria, as I hadn’t actually bought any myself. I’m not going any further with this now but that just about sums up many aspects of my life – one missed opportunity after another!

Of course I did buy some the next day and even though I missed getting them at 35p, I did get them at 77.5p and now, ten weeks later on October 22^nd they are at 115.5p.

I’ve discovered a web site where I can watch constant, real time updates on the share price and I’m acquiring a whole new vocabulary.

I’ve learnt to despise the “Shorters” and to look out for the “spike” with the prospect of “topping up on the way down”.  When we have, “finished shaking out the doubters,” I intend to “buy on the rise“ and I vow to myself only ever to “buy on rumour, sell on fact” - or is it the other way round?

It’s like watching a very, very long, slow horse race. Sometimes my ‘horse’ is leading the field and sometimes, like this week when they have dropped 9.5p, it’s struggling.

I’m not selling yet though.  I’m in it for the long term.  I want a Mercedes too. 

I just wish they’d set the “spud date” and start “spudding” so we get some news.