Skinny Yin

 The old man was going to sea. This fact would be revealed to him in twelve minutes time. Presently, he was battling the stubborn lid of the marmalade jar. Click.

 Finally.

 Ahhhhhh! That smell! A clandestine night-time plucking of oranges on a Spanish street had gone into making that sweet preserve.

 Victory achieved, Jack sent his knife into the very corners of the jar. He scraped the amber jelly onto his single slice of wholemeal toast. That was the last of it now.

Oh well, there we go.

 Outside, chill rain mithered the neighbourhood cats. His own, Frieda, sat on the back doorstep in a straggly hump and ignored by Jack, whose mind was soaked in sunny memories five decades old.

Every August, retired music teacher Jack had spent the entire month somewhere warm: striding miles through countryside, scaling goaty mountains and pootling along tangy coastal paths. Not last year. Acute tendonitis had scuppered that. How his poor old bones could do with some drops of that juicy, fat Spanish sun.

Oh well, there we go.

Crikey! Very loud miaowing, not unlike the sound made by thirty infants enjoying their first recorder lesson, propelled Jack out of his chair.

“Oh Frieda, you silly - billy! Why didn’t you wait in the shed? You’re soaked through. The black cat prowled past Jack high on haughty pawtips.

“Let’s open this shall we, girl? Was saving it for the weekend but looks like it’ll hit the spot now, eh?”

 Nudging his hand out of the way, Frieda scoffed the delectable salmon and afterwards, permitted Jack to rub her gently dry with a soft towel.

 Whump.

 The postman-

 -rather a plump fellow, considering all the walking involved in his job. Jack didn’t approve of excess weight. Saw it as an indicator of moral weakness, sloth being top culprit.

He walked down the narrow corridor and bent down slowly to pick up his single letter. Couldn’t take any chances with his back these days.  

 It was one of those shiny envelopes - probably, what did they call it, luncheon meat mail…? They’d got his name wrong, missing off a “t” from Spratt. Should he save opening it for later as something to look forward to?

 No, blast, he’d open it now. So he did and discovered himself to be the winner of a Christmas Caribbean cruise. Well, what a thing!

 Days that had snailed past now zoomed. Jack thoroughly enjoyed planning and preparing, so this time was a joy to him. Having only ever been on rucksack based holidays, the novelty of a cruise was rather invigorating.

 His grand-daughter helped him to shop and pack. No matter how many times Hannah assured him that he wouldn’t be bored,  describing the variety of many on -board activities, Jack couldn’t shift the notion of chubby idlers becoming deckchair lobsters.

 Still, he enjoyed his own company well enough. The views, island culture and hot weather were his priorities. He adored the sea. As a child he’d dreamed of being a lighthouse keeper.

Into his brand new blue suitcase went Yorkshire teabags, English mustard and a shirt he’d bought in Spain but never worn. On it, colourful parrots perched among big green leaves of an attractive shape.

 “Welcome aboard the Oceanus, Mr Spratt. I hope you have a pleasant trip with us,” said the young receptionist. Jack found it hard to process her words as there appeared to be two slugs where her eyebrows should be. Most of his concentration was absorbed by this spectacle. He was glad to eventually have the key card grasped in his hand.

 Down far more steps than seemed right and then he was at his door, number 147. That had been the bus he and Eileen had used during their short courtship.

  Well, well, this is it! Without realising, he took a deep breath before gingerly swinging open the cabin door.

 Well, this would do and no mistake! The floor was thickly carpeted. On the oversized bed was a towel shaped like a swan. How clever! A synthetic rose miasma of cleaning products decided his next action.

Before even identifying the location of the nearest Muster Point, Jack removed his shoes, placed them neatly by the door and opened the door to his private balcony.

He looked out upon open sea. Clouds of caramel and lavender laced the winter sky and the merest whisper of a breeze caused a tickle in his nostrils.

 Jack sneezed.

“Bless you!” chortled a deep and mellow voice. Embarrassed, Jack fumbled for his handkerchief. He turned his head in the direction of the sound and saw that an opaque panel divided his cabin from that of his neighbour. It stretched all the way up to the next floor, affording total privacy, well, visually anyway.  He didn’t know what to say and didn’t have to worry for long.

“So, we are neighbours!” came the voice behind the panel, with a resonance that made Jack think of a cello solo. A warm chuckle followed. This trickled into his ears like honey.

Jack cleared his throat and was about to say some words, which ones he hadn’t yet decided, when two things happened at once: the ship’s horn issued a sudden loud parp and an impish gust of wind blew.

 Oh! What’s that? What on earth was going on? Jack couldn’t see! He scrabbled at his face. There was another deep chuckle from next door. Why, this wasn’t funny; this wasn’t funny at all!

 And then Jack found himself laughing too. Everything was alright. It was just a silly scarf! It had been wafted over the partition by the vigorous minx of a breeze and come to rest across his face, covering his eyes, nose and mouth. Soft and brightly patterned with lemons on a turquoise background, Jack could smell coconuts on it.

Now he had some words!

“I believe this is yours.”

Later, at the bar, a jaunty song was playing that he liked- the lyrics reminding him that he hadn’t eaten today’s apple.

Hearing a now familiar voice, Jack turned and his vision was filled by an enormous beaming woman wearing an orange dress. She resembled the sun and stately double bass, all at once.

“Hello, he said, “I’m Jack Spratt.

“Well hello neighbour, I’m Noelene.”

“Would you like a drink? I’m having a gin and slimline tonic.”

“Why yes, young man, I’ll have a pina colada please.”

The next morning, Jack awoke to find that his tendonitis pain had melted away.