-Track Twenty-Five-
Fossdyke residential home now just felt like another boring old folk’s retirement home. Its life force seemed drained since Steve’s passing. Old folks congregated in their little groups, with the peace and tranquillity only broken by coughing, wheezing, and the farting of old codgers.
Fossils instruments had arrived from Cambodia several months earlier and, apart from Steve’s old guitar, their gear had remained locked in the storeroom. With none of them wanting to play, they either sat and reminisced about their remarkable Southeast Asian adventure or went to see Cosmo for a few pints at the Wellow. Having lost their suntans, they all looked like pale wrinkled old men.
Cosmo had the Wellow refurbished and renamed it 'Baker Street.' Mounted in a glass case on the wall of the new entertainments lounge was Steve’s beat-up old Stratocaster guitar, along with a snapshot of the old rocker with a simple brass plaque on the frame, engraved with - Fossil, Steve ‘Strat’ Baker. Cosmo had a newfound enjoyment of his pub, which he now owned after buying it from the brewery.
Charles had phoned Danni several times, but the topic always focused on sending her money. Realising she was using him; he decided to grow old gracefully and stopped calling her.
With Waynit, not a phone-friendly communication, Wayne had not called Nit and accepted that his romantic days were now well and truly over.
Elvin retired his woman pleasing little falsies, redesigning them to hold knitting and crochet needles to help Mabel with her knitting patterns. Life became a sedate affair in the home as the old folks waited to see out their remaining days, bored shitless.
Mrs Chew’s life also became mundane. She missed locking horns with Steve, who had given her a feeling of hope; making her and the others realise that fun and adventure was still possible, even at ripe old ages.
The three rarely spoke of their adventures abroad to anyone else and Mrs Chew felt sad for the elderly rockers. She, along with Lucy Fossdyke, tried to think of ways to breathe fresh life into the home. Fortunately, fate intervened when Mrs Chew received a phone call with a desperate plea from another residential home in the Lincolnshire area.
The hysteria about Kipper had died down and he no longer made headline news. True to his word about being responsible, Kipper now kept his life on a sensible footing and stayed in regular contact with Lucy, Cosmo, and the remaining Fossils.
Kipper, Lucy, Cosmo, and the three remaining Fossils raked in the money from the Hope album and Lucy upgraded Fossdyke, making it like a plush hotel, with all mod cons and new technology, although it still smelt eggy.
It confused the old folks at first. Boring Bill chased around the recreation room looking for pigeons, every time the Animal planet programme, ‘Taming Tyson,’ aired on their 80-inch plasma, flat-screen HDTV, with surround sound.
Andrex Ethel also had problems coming to terms with the new improvements. She wandered around with a wet patch on her arse after they had bidets installed in all the bathrooms.
On a warm summer morning, as the old folks went about their usual dreary routine, a van arrived and unloaded several items into Steve’s room. Charles, Elvin, and Wayne saw the van from the recreation room window and fumed, assuming the room would stay empty out of respect.
“What’s happening?” Charles asked frowning.
“That ain’t right,” said Elvin, furrowing his brow.
“We’ll ask Chewy,” said Wayne. “Here she comes.”
Mrs Chew came over to them and Elvin, looking angry, pointed and asked, “Wot’s ‘appening?”
“Sorry,” said Mrs Chew. “But we had an emergency and need Steve's room for a resident whose current residential home was being sold.”
“There are plenty of other homes around,” said Charles who frowned and threw out his hands. “So why here?”
Mrs Chew shook her head and said. “Sorry, there were no others available to take him.”
“What did Doctor Fossdyke say about this?” asked Wayne, glaring at Mrs Chew.
“It was Doctor Fossdyke who agreed with the home to take their last tenant. He would be here this afternoon,” she said and smiled.
The three protested, but Mrs Chew was adamant and because Lucy Fossdyke had given permission, they conceded. Mrs Chew walked away from the angry three and grinned.
The old men had noticed over the past few weeks Mrs Chew had been more miserable than usual, but she now appeared a little chirpier with a mischievous glint in her eye, which made the three suspicious.
Charles puckered his brow and asked. “What’s Chewy up to?”
Kings-Brook residential home was a family run residential home in Tetney, a small rural Lincolnshire town.
The home was about to be sold to the large AGECARE Corporation that intended to convert the residential home into a nursing home, adding to the AGECARE network throughout England.
Kings-Brook owners had found new homes for ten of the eleven residents, but the last tenant proved difficult to re-house. The sixty-seven-year-old troublesome man was a cantankerous old bastard, and apart from the fact he refused to budge, he had a dreadful reputation throughout the Tetney area for his obnoxious attitude.
The owners of Kings-Brook, Pete and Wilma Brooks, were at their wit's end. They knew that without them being able to move this resident, the deal would fall through and their dream of retiring to Spain would not happen. Desperate, they tried to re-house the man in homes further afield. They contacted homes outside the Tetney area, offering to pay his first year's costs. However, once other homes met and interviewed the man, they refused.
Kings-Brook's owners knew Fossdyke was choosy but tried anyway. They called Mrs Chew and asked for her help in re-locating this individual. They related the man’s story, along with the problems they were encountering.
Mrs Chew listened but paid scant attention until they mentioned why he was such a menace, which piqued her interest.
Mrs Chew and Lucy went to Kings-Brook, which looked old and in dire need of repair.
Pete and Wilma Brooks, a pleasant couple in their fifties, scurried around Mrs Chew and Lucy as if they were royalty, hoping to persuade them to take their unruly problem. They took Lucy and Mrs Chew into an office and explained how they’d let Kings-Brook run down as the work was becoming too much, so they had lost interest and desperate to sell.
Pete and Wilma looked at each other and then Pete said. “We must warn you; although we found homes for all our other older residents. Mr Varley has a bad reputation, so other homes won’t take him.”
“To be honest.” said Wilma, “He has been a thorn in our sides since moving in two years ago, but we needed the money.” Wilma sighed and sounded desperate. “So we understand if you won’t take him.”
Lucy smiled and said. “Shall we go meet, Mr Varley?”
Wilma nodded and said, “Yes, but don’t call him Mr Varley or John, he likes to be called Boomer.”
They went into a small lounge where a man sat in an armchair alone. Pete and Wilma looked embarrassed as they directed Lucy and Mrs Chew to sit on a tatty sofa covered with a sheet, which although hid the stains, did not hide the smell of urine.
Pete introduced them to John ‘Boomer' Varley, who was a scrawny individual dressed in worn-out jeans and a tatty t-shirt. He wore a baseball cap to disguise the fact he resembled an old English sheepdogs lipstick, boner, being as bald as a crabs arse on the top of his head with long grey hair around the back and sides.
Boomer glared at Pete and snarled, “I’ve told you before; you will only get me out of here in a bloody body bag.” He stared at Lucy and Mrs Chew and asked. “Who are these old bats?”
“Would you like a cup of tea?” stammered Wilma, sounding uncomfortable.
Lucy and Mrs Chew nodded, and Pete and Wilma rushed to the kitchen.
“I’ll have one,” Boomer yelled.
Pete and Wilma sighed as they waited for the kettle to boil, convinced that another attempt to remove him had failed. They considered the body bag option when they heard Boomer shouting obscenities at Lucy and Mrs Chew.
They made a pot of tea, went back into the lounge, and nearly dropped the tray. Astonished, they saw Boomer looking through literature showing pictures of Fossdyke, with Lucy and Mrs Chew talking to the subdued man.
Boomer looked up when Pete and Wilma approached. He winked at Mrs Chew and Lucy and then shouted at the owners.
“If you twats want me out of here, pour the tea, and get your chequebook out.”
The gobsmacked couple looked at Lucy and Mrs Chew, and then Lucy said. “We will be happy to take Mr Varley.”
The overjoyed couple poured the tea but could not understand why a reputable residential home would take in this horrible, obnoxious man.
Boomer's defiance and bravado reminded Lucy and Mrs Chew of another certain individual. His other attribute made him a perfect candidate for Fossdyke.
Boomer arrived at Fossdyke around 2:00 pm carrying a small duffel bag. Pete and Wilma looked delighted as they took Boomer to Mrs Chew’s office and then quickly left.
“Your belongings are in your room Boomer, but before I show you that, I have some people I would like you to meet,” said Mrs Chew, who took him into the recreation room and over to Elvin, Charles, and Wayne sitting in armchairs next to Charles’s piano. The three glared at Boomer.
“This is Boomer,” said Mrs Chew. “I'll leave you all to get acquainted.” Mrs Chew chuckled and left the room.
Boomer looked at the three elderly gentlemen wearing slippers, cardigans and drinking cups of cocoa.
There was an awkward silence as the three glared at him.
“So you're the musicians that the Doctor and the old bat told me about,” said Boomer, trying to imagine what type of music they played, noticing Charles’s Steinway.
He figured that it would be boring, so he looked around the recreation room, and said, “It’s bloody swanky here, I didn’t think I could afford it, but they gave me a bloody good price and the twats at the other home paid for my first year.”
The others kept glaring at Boomer, who stared at Elvin’s prosthetic fingers, with one digit looking like a crochet hook, and a small basket containing balls of wool at his feet.
Boomer pulled over a chair, sat down, and said. “I was a lead guitarist in the '60s and ‘70s; I played with Tommy Steele, Adam Faith, and Procol Harem, to name but a few.” He smiled but could see none of the others seemed impressed and still glared at him.
He sighed and told them, “I spent years on tour, living out of a suitcase in hotels and B&B's. I got thrown out of most of them for being too noisy,” he chuckled. “I've had loads of birds but never married. Love 'em and leave 'em, that's my motto.”
'Too bloody gobby, that's why you're single, no woman would put up with yer.' thought Elvin.
“I got plenty of money, so I moved into Kings-Brook when I was 65. They can't turf you out in the private residential home sector, and the idiots at Kings-Brook couldn’t afford to pay back my deposit and boot me out until they sold the dump,” said Boomer and smirked. He looked around the recreation room and smiled. “Does anyone want a coffee?” he asked, seeing the coffee machine in the corner. The others shook their heads, so he went over, poured himself a coffee, and thought. ‘They’re miserable gits and they looked like I’d upset them. Probably jealous because I played with famous rock stars.’ He grinned and went back to sit with the three.
He blew on the hot coffee, took a slurp, and asked. “I heard that Kipper’s from Cleethorpes. Do you know him?”
The three ignored him and just stared.
“That Hope album was bloody fantastic. I wish I could sing like Kipper, even though he made it digitally to sound like that, the kids a genius,” said Boomer and took another slurp of coffee. “Did I mention that I played with Tommy Steele? I toured Southeast Asia with him in the early eighties,” he smirked. “Bloody marvellous, I shagged my way through the Philippines.”
Boomer could tell that his tales and name-dropping didn't impress the three, but at least they no longer glared at him. They kept looking at one another and smiling as if he reminded them of somebody.
“I got my old Duane Eddy signature Gretsch guitar in my room. Shall I go get it? Maybe it'll bring some life into this boring place; I scared the shit out of the wrinklies at Kings-Brook playing it,” he said smirking.
Charles shook his head and said. “Perhaps later.”
Now grinning, the three Fossils looked at the chatty wrinkly.
Boomer, still wanting to impress his crusty new neighbour's, asked. “Have any of you ever played with anyone famous?” and without waiting for a reply, took his photo album from the duffel bag.
Charles, Elvin, and Wayne watched while Boomer flicked through his album, showing them photographs of him playing alongside the named celebrities as Fossils sat back in their armchairs, smirking.