Are You Sittting Comfortably?

Are You Sitting Comfortably?

‘Quick, Dorrie. Come and look at this.’ Dorrie’s husband sounded quite excited which should have aroused suspicion. He was rarely quite excited anymore which suited Dorrie.

‘I’m busy,’ came the muffled reply.

‘Hurry up. We’re being invaded.’

‘Will it take long? Only I’m waxing the dado,’ she said. Silly bugger, she thought.

‘Leave it. We’re being invaded by aliens from outer space,’ came the insistent reply.

Dorrie put down her rag and poked her head into the front room.

‘Stop messing around. I really am busy.’

 ‘I’m not joking. We’re definitely being invaded and they’re definitely from outer space,’ her husband assured her. ‘This is the BBC. It’s got to be true.’

‘ You’ve not got a film on, have you? It been done before. Although …’ Dorrie thought for a moment. ‘… I think that was the radio – in America.’

‘If you’re doing nothing make us a cup of tea, there’s a love. Then come and watch the news with me. I thought you’d be interested. You like Star Trek.’

She made a pot of tea and then, after some thought added chocolate biscuits. If they really were being invaded, they would need the sugar. She would also need the sugar if her husband was going senile, which was what she suspected. He was about that age.

‘Where have they landed, then?’ She wanted to know as she walked back into the front room.

‘In London. In Hyde Park of all places. You’d think they’d pick somewhere more suitable.’

Dorrie placed the tray on the coffee table and helped herself to a biscuit as she sat down.

‘What about America? They always land in America in the films.’

‘There’s nothing been said about America.’ Bob’s eyes were firmly on the television.

‘That’s a poke in the eye for them,” observed Dorrie. They usually get the visitors from outer space.’

The aliens seemed friendly enough. There were three of them, two males and one female. They met with the Prime Minister and had tea with the Queen Consort. They did all the usual stuff that foreign dignitaries do.

They were a sweet looking bunch of quite young explorers, short in stature with merry smiles and a rotund physique. They were welcomed everywhere and were soon in big demand for opening summer fetes, kissing babies and judging vegetables at village shows making what happened next rather a surprise.

‘What time is it, Dorrie?’

‘I don’t know. I’m asleep.’

‘The light’s a funny colour.’ Bob observed. ‘All purpley and bruised looking.’

  ‘Go back to sleep.’ Dorrie grunted. ‘Is that the alarm? I told you not to set the alarm. Why, on God’s good earth do you set the alarm now we’ve retired? You’re not right above the kneecaps, Robert Attercliffe, you’re not. Now I need a wee. I shall have to get up and it’ll be too late to go back to bed because I’ll go back to sleep and wake up with a headache. And it’s too early to get up because it’s cold and dark.’ She flounced off in the dark still complaining.

Bob switched off the alarm with a sigh. Now he’d done it. He’d woken the dragon and there would be no peace until bedtime. Setting the alarm was a habit he couldn’t break, and he normally woke a minute before it sounded as he’d done all his working life. It gave him time to switch it off before it roused Dorrie. The strange light had thrown him.

‘It’s freezing out there.’ Dorrie jumped back into bed and placed her cold feet on his calves. ‘Feel.’

‘I’m going downstairs.’ Bob slid out of bed.

Bob’s internal clock assured him that it really was time he usually got up despite the lack of daylight, so he decided to make himself a cup of tea and check the time by the clock in the kitchen.

The kitchen clock told him that it was half past six which was odd because the alarm would have gone off at half past six and time had passed since then. He switched on the kettle and tried to look outside. It should have been light at this time of the year. He opened the back door and stepped out. He was facing east and there was a faint glow in the distance but then he was looking towards the service station on the motorway. There was always a glow in that direction. It looked a bit sickly this morning. Not at all well. He went back in to make the tea. The clock said twenty past six. It appeared to be going backwards.

He warmed the teapot, spooned in the tea and filled the pot with boiling water. He watched it brew while deep in thought. He wondered for a moment what was happening to the world. Everyone was up in arms over some cause or another. People hadn’t enough to do, he decided. He did wonder if the little aliens had anything to do with the strange happenings. They were rather keen on meeting Winston Churchill. They didn’t seem at all bothered when they were told that it was impossible because he had died many years before.

Was it possible to make time go backwards? It seemed the sort of thing an alien would do.

‘Dorrie?’ Bob whispered tentatively. ‘Dorrie dear? I’ve brought you tea. Are you awake?’

‘I am. I can’t get back to sleep. You can turn the light on. What time is it?’

‘I don’t know. Something’s definitely wrong with the world this morning. You should get up and see for yourself.’

Dorrie pulled the duvet up to her chin. ‘What’s that noise? It sounds like someone’s trying to break in.’ Whoever it might be was hammering on the front door.

Bob sat on the end of the bed and considered the ramifications of going to see who it was. It could even be a what it was, you couldn’t be sure when the world was out of kilter. ‘Well, go on then. Go see what’s amiss.’ Dorrie kicked at him through the duvet.

Bob decided to edge his bets and look out of the window. He could pour boiling tea down if he didn’t like the look of who was there. It turned out to be his neighbour, Usman still in his pyjamas.

Bob placed his tea carefully on the sill so as not to waste a drop. It seemed that sort of a day. He opened the window and called down to his friend, ‘Aye up, youth. Not in work?  What’s to do?’

‘What’s up with the light?’ Usman queried. Usman usually considered Bob to be the fountain of all knowledge due to his advanced years.

‘Not sure,’ Bob considered. ‘Is your clock alright?’

‘My clock?’

‘Mine’s to pot. Going backwards.’ Usman disappeared from Bob’s view to return a few minutes later.  

‘Same ‘ere. The world’s not right this morning if you ask me.’ He complained. ‘I knew voting Brexit would cause us trouble.’ And disappeared back inside his own house, slamming the door against the world.

Leaving the EU might change many things, but it wouldn’t stop aliens from another planet landing in England. Bob was sure of that.

‘Put the news on, Dorrie, love.’ Bob turned to the television at the end of the bed as Dorrie fussed under her pillow for the remote control. ‘Make sure it’s the BBC. I don’t trust some of them other channels to get it right.’ Bob was a tad old fashioned in his views.

Dorrie was convinced she had pressed all the right buttons but there was no BBC. There was just a screen filled with snow and an annoying crackle which prompted her to turn it off.

‘Ay, lass. The world has ended and there’s no mistake.’ Bob shook his head. He lumbered from the bed and ventured downstairs where he turned on the radio in the dining room. There was no Radio Four. Now he knew that things were very, very wrong.

‘What’s to do, Bob?’ Dorrie’s voice quavered. She had followed him down, and stood shivering and anxious, wrapped up in her dressing gown.

‘Eh, lass. I don’t know.’ He looked squarely at her. ‘Have you been doing something with your hair?’ he asked. It looked darker, permed, like the old queen had hers, like Dorrie used to have it.

‘No,” she snapped, scared. ‘What’s brought that on now?’ She stopped and stared at her husband. ‘Have you? You know, done something to yours?’ She was sure his hair was growing back. Bob sighed and shook his head. ‘Well, you’d better do something. This can’t go on. I’ve got a WI meeting this afternoon.’ She sounded near to tears as she put out her hand to turn off the radio.

As she touched the button it crackled making her jump. A familiar tinny voice broke the silence, ‘Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin.’