Get Up Early

Kath's Pages Of Stories and Verse | home

Get Up Early

Get up early and do it," read the note that I found on the kitchen bench when I returned from a day's visit to York. But what I was to do and who'd left it there was a mystery. It could have been almost anyone from the village. My door, like all the other doors in this upper dales hamlet, is never locked.

I picked up the note and examined it closely. It was written on what looked like half a page torn from one of those little notebooks with a red cover that the school kids use for their tables and spelling lists. The words were written neatly enough, but whoever wrote them had used block letters, and whilst I am fairly good at recognising handwriting I can't say the same for capitals.

I made cup of tea and while it mashed I scrutinised the note again. `Get up early'. Well that depended on what was meant by early, I certainly had no intention of rising before the dawn chorus, if that's what they were suggesting, `and do it'? I poured the tea, sweetened it, and added milk. What on earth had I promised to do? It certainly looked as if I'd made a promise to someone, but I was darned if I could think of anything. Still holding the note I opened the fridge door and took out a slice of the pork pie I'd bought that afternoon. It would do very nicely for my supper with some homemade pickle. I'd eaten a delicious salad at lunchtime in a cafe just off the Shambles, so it would be fair to say that I'd had my ration of greens for one day.

I tucked into the pie with the propped the note against the teapot and continued to study it. The letters were well formed and similar in shape to those I use, but capitals tend to look the same from any hand.

Better to be safe than sorry, I thought, so I went through all the tasks that were waiting to be done. I remembered how I'd promised myself that I'd clean the windows before they became too mucky to see out of. Then there were all the leaves to rake up from the lawn. They'd need burning as soon as there was a still day. But these were task known only to me, and this note showed a prior knowledge of my intentions. I put down my knife and fork and reached for my cup. There had to be reason why it said `get up early'. I'd told Sheila Albright that I'd sort out some of the old junk in the box room for the Church Jumble Sale, may be she'd left the note, but why on earth would I get up early to do that?

Racking my brain was bringing on a headache so I decided to sleep on it. My memory problems tend to sort themselves out whilst I'm asleep. Perhaps it would all come back to me clearly in the morning.

I slept well and woke to the bird chorus. The bedroom had that golden early sun glow that precedes a fine autumn day in this part of the world, so I decided that it was worth getting out of my warm bed. A quick trip to the bathroom and I was soon down in the kitchen making the first cup of many.

It's amazing what I can get through when I really try. By the time the clock struck eleven I'd cleaned all the downstairs windows inside and out, washed the curtains from the kitchen and spare bedroom and hung them on the line. I'd decided that today was not a good day to burn the leaves, what with the washing drying on the line, but I'd made a start on sorting the junk for the Jumble Sale. Time for another cuppa I thought as I came down the stairs carrying an armful of old books. I'd just dumped them in a box by the kitchen door when the phone rang. I wondered who it could be. I'm like that with letters and phone calls. With letters I turn them this way and that before I open them, trying to determine who they're from, it used to drive Jim mad. When the phone rings I like to guess who's calling before I pick it up. This time I was wrong, it wasn't Sheila asking about the junk, nor my sister wanting to know how I'd got on in York. No, it was the nurse from Doctor Bycroft's the surgery.

"I just rang to see if you're all right," she said. "Your appointment was for ten thirty."

"Damn," I muttered.

"What's that Iris? Don't tell me you forgot."

"Clean forgot," I replied.

"But didn't you see the note I left on your sink bench yesterday?"

There was silence as my mind quivered and shook with the force of the mental kicks I was giving myself.

"Iris, are you still there?"

"Yes, I am, and yes I did forget."

"Well I'll pencil you in for tomorrow then, shall I? And for God's sake remember the sample. It must be first thing in the morning before you've eaten or drunk anything, right?"