Columbo has been having a mini holiday of sorts these part few weeks. Working part-time, walking a lot around Dublin, meeting new people, trying to be sensible and sometimes failing… It all ends tomorrow.
Pops arrives in the early am and five or so weeks of responsibility starts immediately. Not that there won’t be enjoyable moments and slagging galore. However, Columbo’s late night adventures shall be curtailed. Work, straight home most evenings to make sure the bungalow is still standing (there will be war if Pops reads this), cocktail hour, supervision of the fire lighting, and then the cooking of proper food.
Columbo hasn’t had potatoes in the house for months. One large shopping delivery, check. Stockup of a few days’ worth of briquettes and wood from the kind coalman, Joseph, check. Warning the barman in the local that he is not to serve whiskey to Pops, check. He knows to inform Pops that “Columbo says we are out of whiskey.” G&Ts are permitted.
Columbo flagged the coalman down one day last week, and he inquired about the father. The two men chat regularly, given the amount of briquettes/coal Pops goes through during stays in Dublin. Essentially, most of the neighbors have been notified of Pops’s impending visit. A good few have met him over the years and like him.
One neighbor, Glenda the Good Witch, kidnapped Columbo yesterday evening on Columbo’s return home and poured quantities of wine in Columbo’s glass. It magically never emptied. When a strong G&T was presented despite repeated warnings that Columbo a) does not like G&T; b) was completely wrecked tired; and c) would not drink it, Columbo made good her escape after promising the Good Witch that she would send Pops down to drink G&Ts with her instead. (God help him. It was a desperate measure but one Columbo felt obliged to take… Sauve-qui-peut.)
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