A few weeks ago after a busy lunch at the restaurant I decided to drive home in the afternoon to pick up some papers that I had forgotten to bring with me that day. As I drove up the drive of Rushmore Towers I spotted Mrs R. desperately trying to pump up the tyres on her old ex post office bike, the bike was last used over a year ago for her to do the morning paper round. Since her retirement from the early morning job the bike has laid where it was, left against the old garage and has been submitted to the ravages of the seasons, so giving it an over all colour of rust. I could see by the look upon Mrs. R's face that this was not a good time to be saying have you got the kettle on. Mrs R's attempts to inflate the tyres of this aging bike was getting her down, let me have ago were I suppose the only words that I could say at the time, so taking off my jacket..... on reflection I suppose and with time to think I may have said a silly thing, it was one of those occasions when your mouth controls your brain, so out came the words ,, "Come on, let a man have a go," after a few minutes of huffing and puffing, "there you are two tyres, hard as bullets.  Let's have a nice cup of coffee. By the way what's the idea in getting the old bike back on the road again after all this time?" Mrs R explained that she thought it would give her a little gently exercise in the mornings, and the other idea she had was that I could pile all my fishing gear on it and use it to pedal my way five miles when going on one of my fishing trips. Think of the exercise you would be getting she said. The kettle had just boiled and I was about to make a refreshing cup of coffee, when it happened, the sound of two tyres exploding sent us both running to inspect the damage and it was no more than I had half expected. Both tyres were flat as pancakes, once again the mouth had shut the brain down. "Cor blimey," I said "what if you had been doing fifty miles an hour down Knights hill and the tyres went pop? I shudder to think." The reply from Mrs R was not the words that I would gladly wish to put in print but the last words that I heard as I decided to head off back to the safety of the restaurant was "What I want in one, is a new man." 

As I drove back towards Heacham I had time to reflect: new man, what's wrong with the old one? By the time I had arrived in Heacham I had time to think, and yes Mrs R. has a point. On reflection I have heard of these new men, and more to the point maybe I should try to be one if that's what she wants. I put the question that night to the commis chef in the hope that he might hold the answer. "err what's this rubbish they call the new man?" Apart from the initial thoughts that it was a new band that had slipped by without him hearing of it, I said "No what's a new man, you must know." "Oh you must mean an all singing all dancing husband you know the ones that reverse the roles of human nature in trying to be the little lady while still being the great white hunter." "Oh that's it is it." I replied "cant be that hard can it, I might give it a go?"

A new man must have a new image, so on one of my days off I used my bus pass to travel into Kings Lynn for a bit of new man shopping. I thought that new man should start with a new image in the dress department, working from the bottom up I decided to start in the underwear department. On close inspection of a range of y fronts I came across a little number that had a pouch at the front and something that resembled a string at the back, after asking the sales assistant  I was assured that these were the latest in undergarments. With this in mind, new man would be at least have a pair in his wardrobe, so a purchase was made. By the time I had run out of money I had convinced myself that I was at least going to present an image that would pass as a new man. I brought a selection of garments including the undergarments, a pair of trousers, a jacket, and socks that contained five different colours in them, but when it came to the shirt I refused to buy a pink coloured one and settled on a nice white one, remembering tales of what my dear old dad use to say about men in pink shirts, true or not I for one was not going to take the chance.  Well that's the new man image sorted out what's next? The great day did not take long to come, Mrs R. decided to head off to see an old friend and I was left all alone at Rushmore Towers. Great, time to chill out and watch a bit of telly.  It was then, as I sat there nice and relaxed coffee in hand, I thought stop. New man would not be wasting his time sitting around, no no no, he would be up and at it, doing all those little things around the house. Where the devil do I start, or more to the point what do I do? So I thought for a minute, I know, why not get dressed into all my new clothes, it might just give me a bit of inspiration. So within the time it takes Clark Kent to change into Superman I was transformed into new man. 

Well what's first on the list, over the years I have at least taken on board some of the jobs that Mrs R performs. So out came the hoover this seemed to have a mind of its own and the plug lead just aint long enough for the job intended, but with a bit of pulling and stretching that job was done. Next out came the old spray polish, and with the aid of a yellow duster the task was unbelievable in tout sweet time even in the eyes of the new man. It was at that moment I started to think that this new man experience was a bit of old hat, when I noticed a bit of paper laying on the floor.  In my attempt to pick it up I made a very big mistake, I was half way down when it happened. The salesman, I can recall, that had sold me the pouch I was wearing had assured me that they were the in thing.  What he had not explained was that the pain would be out of this world and one would resort to using swear words if you bent over at a certain angle. It was at this point I went very dizzy and thought my life was coming to an end, so with the aid of the hoover for support I made it to the comfort of a chair. New man be dammed, that's it. Almost an hour had passed before I felt life coming back to my nether regions and I thought a small shot of brandy might be in order.  This I consumed but noticed that a few drops of brandy had spilt down new man's shirt. Only one thing for it, in true new man style he will have to confront the evil contraption namely called the washing machine.  What a selection of programmes we have on offer and what a selection of heat settings. So it was off with my shirt; then I noticed a few of Mrs R's. frilly bits that lay by the machine.  Let's add them to the wash, no problem for new man, now for the setting, lets pop it on high that should do the trick.  It seemed to take a life time as I watched each program go through it's bit.  Then it was all over. Yes, new man has it cracked. Only the video to work out now and I can hold my head up high. Slowly I opened the door and removed my shirt, only to find out that Mrs R's. frillies had turned my shirt bright pink. Dear oh dear, what would my dear old dad say?? Like all dogs they have their day, and needless to say so has my attempt at being a new man  had its day also. But never mind, the pink shirt has gone to a charity shop, and I have found a great use for new man's underwear.  It makes a wonderful catapult for firing out maggots when I go fishing.

 

This is a great summer dessert for this time of the year when all the fresh fruits are plentiful. You can use all your favourite fruits, strawberries, mulberries, red currants or raspberries to make this pudding. Start by cleaning one pound of mixed fruits and place them in a saucepan; next add around half a cupful or a little bit more of white sugar and two or three tablespoons of water to the fruit and over a gentle heat, cook the mixture just until the sugar has dissolved.  Don't over cook as you need the fruit to retain its shape. Next get eight slices of white bread and trim off the crusts.  As this recipe will make four summer puddings you will need four little china bowls, or you can use tea cups. Take two slices of bread and line the bowls leaving a little of the bread to fold over once the fruit filling has been added. Now divide the warm fruit into each bread lined bowl and fold over the remaining flaps of bread; press well down so that the fruit juices penetrate the bread. Pop them into the refrigerator over night. To serve remove the puddings from the bowls onto a plate and serve with double cream.

Colin Rushmore