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THE DELEGATES’ CHOICE IAN SANSOM For the Group Table of Contents ‘I resign,’ said Israel. ‘Aye,’ said Ted. ‘I do,’ said Israel. ‘Good,’ said Ted. ‘I’ve made up my mind. I’m resigning,’ said Israel. ‘Today.’ ‘Right you are,’ said Ted. ‘I’ve absolutely had enough.’ ‘Uh-huh.’ ‘Of the whole thing. This place! The—’ ‘People,’ said Ted. ‘Exactly!’ said Israel. ‘The people! Exactly! The people, they drive me—’ ‘Crazy,’ said Ted. ‘Exactly! You took the words right out of my mouth.’ ‘Aye, well, you might’ve mentioned it before,’ said Ted. ‘Well, this is it. I’m up to—’ ‘High dough,’ said Ted. ‘What?’ said Israel. ‘You’re up to high dough with it.’ ‘No,’ said Israel. ‘No. I don’t even know what it means, up to high dough with it. What the hell’s that supposed to mean?’ ‘It’s an expression.’ ‘Ah, right yes. It would be. Anyway, I’m up to…here with it.’ ‘Good.’ ‘I’m going to hand in my resignation to Linda.’ ‘Excellent,’ said Ted. ‘Before the meeting today.’ ‘First class,’ said Ted. ‘Before she has a chance to trick me out of it again.’ ‘Away you go then.’ ‘I am so gone already. I am out of here. I tell you, you are not going to see me for dust. I’m moving on.’ ‘Mmm.’ ‘I’m going! Look!’ ‘Ach, well, it’s been a pleasure, sure. We’re all going to miss you.’ ‘Yes,’ said Israel. ‘Good,’ said Ted. ‘So,’ said Israel. ‘You’ve time for a wee cup of coffee at Zelda’s first, mind? For auld time’s sake?’ ‘No!’ said Israel. ‘I need to strike while the—’ ‘And a wee scone, but?’ Israel looked at his watch. ‘Meeting’s not till three,’ said Ted. ‘What day is it?’ said Israel. ‘Wednesday.’ ‘What’s the scone on Wednesdays?’ ‘Date and almond,’ said Ted, consulting his mental daily special scone-timetable. Israel huffed. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘But then we need to get there early. I am definitely, definitely resigning.’ They’d had this conversation before, around about mid-week, and once a week, for several months now, Israel Armstrong BA (Hons) and Ted Carson—the Starsky and Hutch, the Morse and the Lewis, the Thomson and Thompson, the Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, the Dante, the Virgil, the Cagney, the Lacey, the Deleuze and Guattari, the Mork and the Mindy of the mobile library world. Israel had been living in Tumdrum for long enough—more than six months!—to find the routine not just getting to him, but actually having got to him; the selfsame rainy days which slowly and silently became weeks and then months, and which seemed gradually to be slowing, and slowing, and slowing, almost but not quite to a complete and utter stop, so that it felt to Israel as though he’d been stuck in Tumdrum on the mobile library not just for months, but for years, indeed for decades almost. Israel felt trapped; stuck; in complete and utter stasis. He felt incapacitated. He felt like he was in a never-ending episode of 24, or a play by Samuel Beckett. ‘This is like Krapp’s Last Tape,’ he told Ted, once they were settled in Zelda’s and Minnie was bringing them coffee.
