TWENTY-TWO
‘You sure that’s straight, Jimbo?’ Jack asked, his stance appearing as an amusing teapot, one hand supporting his back, the other pointing, with his sloped Christmas tree head, to a straight Christmas tree. Something was not right, and he could not put his spout-like finger on it, and then he did; it had no side-strutting. ‘Jimbo, you plank, you’ve forgotten the struts.’
‘Oh, that’s lovely, Jimbo, thank you,’ Mandy said as she wheeled herself into the living room, her stiff white bobby socks pointing at Jack, who was momentarily distracted, convinced if he could bend his back a bit, he would be able to see up her dress, but it would hurt. Jack was a realist, but still he tried, and of course was caught because he moaned; it did hurt.
‘Jack look at the tree, it's lovely! We wo
