The Purple Envelope

With limited time, I take a short cut to the local shop – the old Post Office. I reach for the antique door handle and chimes without melody jingle as I step into the small shop. Pictures of local aristocracy adorn the walls – the gamekeeper at his lodge – the Lord and Lady of the manor in whose park-like grounds I’m free to meander for these hours that I’m free from work. The sound of Fran’s shuffle from her adjoining cottage comes to me with the smell of fresh baking – then her cheery call to be patient as at 81 she makes her entrance through the heavy curtain dividing duty from domesticity. Her stick thumps a dead beat on floorboards belying the vitality she brings into the room. I turn, expecting and wanting to receive warmth from her smiling eyes. The Postman arrives and empties the mail box. He looks young – too young – and he cheerfully whistles through his day. Fran takes a chocolate down from a shelf for him and he grins walking out casually, leaving us to chatter with the jangle of door chimes in the air. *** In S A, Michael at his desk is intent on creating solutions. He was out celebrating his friends 21st last night – a long time friend from early childhood - and he stayed partying until the early hours. It left few hours for sleep but, with what even he recognizes as probably too much optimism, he thinks he’ll catch up. At work, the company is not sure that they’ll meet their deadline and Michael will stay late and find some fast food nearby to take care of a meal. That way he can call by the flying club and see how the service maintenance is going. Once the used microlight that he wants to buy has got its air-worthy certificate, he’ll be sure of a hanger space lease. His flat mates will have a practice run tonight, but this time he’ll forego the extra preparation for the weekend’s long distance run. He’ll call instead at the gym to coincide with Clare being there. He can see her on Friday as well and still have the assignment finished and sent out in good time on Monday morning. The B Com correspondence course is time-taking, but he wants to keep it up. Ah, he could hear the drinks trolley on the corridor – the rumble comes ahead of Joey’s arrival, signalling the routine morning break. His dry humour and cavalier attitude amuse Michael and he sends a comic remark his way. At this company free soda is supplied and that’s a cool thing about working here. Michael buys two packets of chips and tosses the empty cola can into a container under his desk. He has a reason for keeping them but I’m not sure what it is. For the first time in hours he leans back in his chair and stretches out, feeling he is pretty much on top of his part of the project, but you could never tell until it went live. Heads turn in his direction as the cell phone on his desk starts ringing. It plays Wallace and Gromit’s theme tune rather too loudly. He enjoys it, enjoys his life. On the line is someone who is guiding him into some investment – small stuff, but a start. His thoughts drift to his mother who is away, working in England. He will talk to her at the weekend about a house she’s looking for… he thinks about taking her for a flight when she’s at home again. The call over, his attention is immediately focused back on the task at hand...