Southern Comfort

Yesterdays outing took me to a Bev's Café in Pontypridd.

I ordered my 'usual' and sat myself at the table by the café's expansive window. As I shuffled myself back and forwards, getting my backside comfortable, a brown leather two-seater sofa floated by the window.

Well, technically it didn't float, it was actually carried by two middle aged men; their faces bright red and betraying their jovial demeanour by quite clearly stating "F*** this is heavy! But I'll be damned if I'm going to ask him if we set it down for a moment".

The bell over the café's door tinkled as I watched the two men and their cargo disappearing down the road and an elderly gentleman entered.

"Ungfff!" he said as he closed the door behind him.

"Ungfff! Ungfff! Ungfff!"

Every step he took was accompanied by an "Ungfff!".

His legs were bowed and bent and he leant heavily on a walking stick.

He ungfff'd his way to the counter and ordered a cup of tea and a full English breakfast, turned, then ungfff'd his way to a table.

He took off his coat but for several minutes he just stood in front of the table.

Ha-ffffffffffft

Ha-ffffffffffft

Ha-ffffffffffft

Ha-ffffffffffft

Ha-ffffffffffft

The strange noise emanating from the old man caused some interest and nearly all of the café's patrons to turn and look.

He then placed a rubber ring onto the chair and ...

"Ungfff!"

... sat down.

There was a squeak followed by a ripple of laughter.

"You've got to look after your piles, isn't it! Got to be having some comfort, see! " he said in a broad valley's accent.

Just then the afore mentioned sofa drifted back in the direction from whence it had previously come.
Raised voices could be heard as the two red faced men, now obviously struggling, plodded past.

"The wrong shop!" said one. "The wrong bloody charity shop! D'you know how far we've carried this damned thing?"

"All right! All right! Don't go on about it, man! We just have to ..."

Their voices trailed off as they rounded the corner.

They Lied!

I have been assured, by people who purport to know these things, that bad things come in threes

They Lie!

The scum bags!

Bad thing's come in ones!

One after the other ... forever!

And ever!

I seem to have a target, as it were, on my back where bad luck is concerned.

As those of you who have been with me for some time may remember, I have always had car troubles.  Just when one problem was been dealt with, another one reared it's ugly, oil smeared head. You may also recall that I wrote about damage to house and property caused by high winds. And of course there was also the recent case of my dog Sym's lymphoma.

Well, there is still no silver lining to my black cloud of bad luck; no ray of sunshine seeking to warm the cockles of my heart (whatever that means).

You may already be wondering 'What's happened now?'.  I can hear the creaking of many (how many readers do I have?) swivel chairs as clearer screen views are sought.

Here's the latest!

My tyres need replacing ... far earlier than anticipated and without achieving the mileage they should have done.

Over night (Saturday to Sunday) there were once again gale force winds battering our house and garden (it may well have battered the homes and gardens of others. I didn't notice) and quite severe damage was caused to our fence (a rather large piece of which narrowly missed our kitchen window).

And, of course, there is Sym! His recent course of treatment resulted in only partial remission.

Now ... that's only three, I hear you say. And you would be right ... I can count.

But there's also ...

Sox (older dog) ... Ill
The lawnmower ... fuel leak!
The strimmer ... busted!
The hedge trimmer ... locked solid!
The DVD-recorder ... dead as a dodo!
The wife's PC ...well, OK! I killed that one.

And it goes on and on and on and on and on and ....

Need I say more?

Yes! They lied! They really did!