A Brief Tribute To Common Sense

Charles Junkett, a surname he hated by the way, and Samantha Prigg met on the first day of University at a ‘Freshers’ gathering where both were meant to throw caution to the wind and drink deeply from the froth filled chalice of freedom and irresponsibility. Charles, dressed in a suit and sipping carefully at his lime cordial and mineral water, noticed that the girl beside him, dressed in a brown below the knee skirt and matching blouse was also supping from the same cocktail, if we can hurl that name at such a concoction.

“Great Minds” he said to her raising his glass, and she replied, “Wished they were somewhere else”.  “Don’t they just. “ he said, “I say, do you fancy wandering off and having a coffee somewhere else!?” and she did not mind. So began a courtship which had lasted for fifteen years. They both lived in the same suburb of the city and while he worked as a Financial Analyst she plunged into the wilder professional waters afforded by a career as a Loss Adjuster. “The recklessness of some people” she might say, and he would add, “Fools rush in” and so they might, but not into these lives. “No Sir, No way, Not on my watch,” and “Kindly get your hands off my DNA reading,”  characterised their responses to those who led a life free of planning.

They did not share a house or flat, but they lived in the same street, and commuted with each other every day to offices which were also close to each other: “Ah the benefits of  organisation!”  At the end of the day, from Monday through to Thursday, as they reached her house, which  they did first, he would say “Enjoy your evening” and she would add “That is the plan” and then “I’ll ring you at 10pm” which was fifteen minutes before their agreed bed time.

On Friday they would repair to the same Greek Restaurant, and examine the menu thoroughly before always ordering the same meal. Their unchanging toast was “To the good life” said just before their mineral water charged glasses chinked in a moment of controlled euphoria. Even in the most ordered of lives, the subject of intimacy and its effect on order and routine might come up and so it did with them, a mere three years after they began spending significant amounts of time together.  “There are grounds” he said to her one Friday evening, for upgrading our kiss on the cheek to a ritual involving the meeting of lips ”. She looked at him carefully, and considered any possible downsides.” I think that’s reasonable” she said, and so their lips met for the first time at nine-thirty five on the conclusion of their night out, and just before they retired to their separate accommodations: two souls joined in the worship of order and planning.

Within two years this alteration had led to them spending Friday and Saturday nights together under one roof, and, dare we reveal it, one duvet. Rules of engagement were discussed and intimacies conducted with due notice taken of noise levels and disorder to the bed linen: time went by and both enjoyed successful careers free of unsightly boasting or unplanned excitement.

So it might have continued until, one Friday evening, as they met in town prior to him saying, “Would you enjoy a Greek meal this evening” as if it was a new idea, he noticed that she seemed a trifle edgy: emotional might be over stating it, but there was something of the off-guard about her manner. All was revealed as they nibbled at the customary pita bread and hummus. Samantha said, “I have to tell you I am expecting a child”. “How is that possible,” Charles replied and again, even with his best efforts, some emotion was evident in his demeanour.

“I suspect in the normal manner, although indulging in a peppermint cream instead of my normal pill might have influenced things. “ she said.  “Is it mine?” he asked, nervous, but sure of her answer. “Oh no” she said, “It’s a present from the heating engineer” who told me to “Get a Life”, and so I did, with him. “How do you explain this conduct?” he asked. “I think boredom might have had something to do with it”. “Ah boredom” said her long-time companion.  “Difficult to deal with under all circumstances. Very nice to have met you” and with that he left and placed his house on the market before moving to the Philippines where he tried his hand at professional surfing.


About Peter Wells aka Countingducks

Trying to remember what my future is
This entry was posted in character, creative writing, Fiction, humour, Peter Wells, Romance and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

11 Responses to A Brief Tribute To Common Sense

  1. beth says:

    surprising twist, and yet not surprising


  2. Al says:

    Surfing, eh? I suspect with the most perfectly waxed board along the entire coast.


  3. Robin says:

    Boredom will get ya every single time! Great one Peter!


  4. tiostib says:

    I readily admit that listening to your stories has done wonders to alleviate boredom in my own simple, disheveled life. Much thanks for this blessing.


  5. Stunned by the last paragraph Peter…………….she’s better off without him IMO!!


  6. Loved the Philippines detail… well, loved the lot actually.


  7. Jack Eason says:

    Reblogged this on Have We Had Help? and commented:
    More wise words from Peter. 😉


  8. Chris Hall says:

    Finishing with a flourish, Peter! A person can take the consideration of risks too far… (speaking as one who worked in risk management for 20 years).

    Liked by 1 person

  9. After such a long time of not visiting the world of blogging, I’ve come back, and your stories have never failed to impress! 🙂


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