The Funny Thing about Norman Foreman by Julietta Henderson (sci fi books to read .TXT) 📗

her bed in a studio flat, she had no hope of ever making it to Paris to put her perfectly conjugated verbs into practice. And so, even though Leonard could take apart and rebuild any television, toaster, radio or mobile phone on the face of the planet, since his retirement he’d honoured his mother by showing up for every free adult-education course the Penzance Community Centre offered, as well as quite a few others around the county as well.

So now he knew more about wedding-cake icing, woodwork, Photoshop, welding, online marketing, calligraphy, genealogy, short mat bowls, soy candle-making, screen-printing and how to cook a proper Spanish paella than his mother could ever have dreamed. And even though he knew some of the younger people on those free courses were really only there so they wouldn’t get their benefits cut off, the joke was on them, because they were still learning.

‘How wonderful is that, Sadie? Lifelong learning! I did this all thanks to Photoshop for Beginners, first three Wednesday evenings in March. Week two, the magnetic lasso tool! It’s an extraordinary thing! Oh, and I asked Norman for some photos to use when I was here the other evening, I . . . I hope you don’t mind. So . . . you like it then, my dear?’

I more than liked it. I loved it. And as for minding, I was so busy loving it I totally forgot to worry about what it was for. Anyway, Leonard wasn’t waiting around for an answer.

In between proudly zooming in and out of the screen to show me some of the details, he explained that Little Big Man was a reference to a 1970s Western movie he and Iris loved that starred Dustin Hoffman trying to pass himself off as a half-pint Native American man who was very small but also very brave.

‘Your Norman put me in mind of that name as soon as I met him, Sadie. Don’t you think?’ Well, I did, yes, although I had no idea what it had to do with his potential comedy career. But it turned out there was at least some measure of method to Leonard’s madness.

After spending a week researching the Edinburgh Fringe, Leonard had discovered that, being what’s known as an open-access festival, you didn’t actually need anyone’s permission to perform. But the problem was finding a time slot in an appropriate participating venue in order to put on a proper show, as opposed to just setting up on a street corner. And, despite sending more than fifty emails to various places on the official festival list, as well as quite a few others that weren’t, Leonard had not yet had any responses to his attempts to get Norman a performance slot. Which I didn’t find the least bit surprising and is, quite frankly, the point I would have given up, if it were left to me. But not Leonard. The Fringe opened in two weeks, so with time ticking he’d decided to create Little Big Man in order to rustle up some interest.

‘USP, Sadie. Unique selling point! Marketing for Small Businesses, Friday evenings in February. Or was it March? I don’t suppose it matters. We need to make Norman stand out from the crowd if we’re going to find him a venue at this late stage. So I thought, well now, who wouldn’t be intrigued by someone called Little Big Man?’

Now, if that’s not harnessing the power of free adult-education courses at its finest, I don’t know what is. But I soon realized I hadn’t seen anything yet. Leonard had also made a Facebook page for Little Big Man (Social Media for Beginners, last Saturday in January) and, even though my lack of knowledge about social media is in direct correlation to my lack of enthusiasm for real-life social interaction, I took a guess that having 267 followers wasn’t bad for something that was a) only a few days old, and b) a total fabrication.

‘Leonard, how . . . I mean, who are all those, um . . . followers. The people?’

‘Aha, well, it’s very easy to make friends and influence people on Facebook, Sadie. Nothing like real life at all, is it? Nine pounds ninety-five for 250 likes! I did the research and I understand that’s excellent value to make Little Big Man look like a very popular young chap!’

All I understood was that I probably owed Leonard a tenner, but beyond that, how Facebook likes worked, or why in fact they mattered, was beyond me. And I’m sure I’d had better things to do on the last Saturday in January than find out. But all of a sudden this was starting to feel a little bit like a runaway train, with Leonard adjusting the driver’s hat as he chattered excitedly on.

‘Tomorrow I’ll start to make regular entries and . . . that is, I mean, err . . . posts, on the Facebook page, using the poster I made, some comedy videos and lots of other things concerning the festival. So very quickly it’ll look like Norman has, um . . . what they call a profile. Then, when someone from one of the Fringe venues I’ve contacted takes a look, they’ll know he’s serious and no doubt offer him a slot!’ Toot toot!

In fact, I had plenty of doubts, but for once in my life I decided to keep my mouth shut. Which turned out to be wise, because Leonard was already steaming ahead to the next level crossing.

‘Right then, Sadie, I believe we’re ready to start work on stage two. Take a seat next to me here.’

Honestly, the old guy was positively radiant. All I really wanted to know was when Sundays had turned into the busiest day of the week. I took a seat. And a deep breath.

When Leonard opened up the Finding Fathers spreadsheet I could see it had come along quite a bit. Where previously there’d just been empty spaces in the columns next to the names I’d prised from my memory, now each had multiple phone numbers and locations,