Don't Talk To Daddy Like That!

A few weeks back, on one of those really, really depressing rainy days, I was out and about with a client.  I was to take him for lunch and generally entertain him for the afternoon.

He was miserable.

I was miserable.

I did mention the rain, right?

Well, we were both soaking wet by the time we arrived at the Fox & Hounds for some well earned food.

As my client and I were waiting for our meals, a smartly dressed couple occupied the table just behind us.

The woman ... blonde, chunky and heavily perfumed ... sat with her back towards me. On the other side of the table, her husband ... herringbone patterned jacket, red tie and terribly baggy black trousers ... picked up a menu and perused.

After a minute or two, and after they had ordered (steak and chips for him and a chicken tikka baguette with salad for her), his phone bingely-bingely-beeped.

"Hello" he said. "Yes ... but I ... no, no ... now wait a damned min... who do you think... what? If you think... what do you mean "my fault"? Ah-ha, ah-ha, hmmm ... ok ... I'll be there in a minute. Yes. Wait outside so I don't miss you. Be right there".

He hung up.

"Who was that?" his wife enquired.

"Your damned daughter".

"Our damned daughter, if you don't mind!  What did she want?"

"Remember that message we took for her? The one where she was to meet her friends for lunch?"

"Yes.  What about it?"

"It was for tomorrow, not today. She called me 'thick' for writing it down wrong. Now she's in the village, soaking wet and wants a lift home".

At that moment their meals were delivered.

"Tuck in!" said the husband.

"I thought you said you would be 'right there' to pick her up" she said.

"What? After the way she just spoke to me? Not a chance!  She can wait until I've had some lunch" he answered.

They ate almost in silence; just the odd comment about the food or sips from their wine glasses passed their lips. Then, as the last morsels of food were chewed into submission, the woman said "I think we'd better go and pick her up now! She's waited long enough."

"No rush" he said.

"Why not?  Where is she then?"

"Standing outside the Fox & Hounds."

"But we're in the ... ."

"Exactly!"

Preamble

On a beautiful day like today, I should be blogging from the garden, soaking up rays as I type.

But  ... you knew there was going to be a 'but', didn't you? ... my Laptop, being almost as old and decrepit as I am, doesn't have one of those super-doopah screens that stops all that glare and reflection.

So, here I am, sitting in-doors doing the biz when I should be outside toasting.

I am not alone however. At me feet I have three slumbering dogs and at my side a snoring cat.

As luck would have it, The General (Buster Keaton), one of my all time favourite films, is on TV and is causing a welcome distraction, although the classical music chosen to accompany the action is proving rather tedious and is somehow very inappropriate. At this moment (10.45 am), the baddies have just thrown the railway sleepers off the bridge onto poor old Buster (and The General).

That was today's preamble.

And, sad to say, that's all there is to today's post ... preamble!

Feel free to start a discussion amongst yourselves until such time as I return with something more entertaining.

Until then ...

The Crow And The Short Fat Woman

It was a bloody big bird.

And I'm sure it was smiling at me. The kind of smile that could only have been the bird equivalent of "Heeeeeeeeere's Johnny"!

Yesterday I pulled onto the car park of the The Harvester pub in Penarth and parked near the entrance at the grass verge.  The crow appeared, as if from nowhere, and perched itself on the bonnet of my car.

It cocked it's head and peered at me.

And it smiled!

I was at least fifteen minutes too early to visit my next client (and let me tell you, this client doesn't do early!) so I had intended to just wait in the car and do a few sudoku puzzles.

But the crow landed and a staring match ensued.

It didn't take it's beady black eyes off  me.

Once or twice it partially unfurled it's wings or puffed-up it's feathers against the cold, but it's eyes never left mine.

This crow was a natural for a starring role in any re-make of Hitchcock's The Birds!

Eventually though, I had to get out. My client was waiting.  I expected the crow to fly off, but no!

It just stood there, spread his (or her) wings and said "Caw"!

I slammed the car door closed and looked at the crow. It hadn't moved.

"Think you're tough? Think you can scare me?" I asked the bird.

A voice behind me said "Are you f***ing talking to me?"

I turned and there, hands on hips, stood a short but incredibly fat woman.  She held a rather large brown handbag that she looked ready to swing.

"I was talking to the damned crow" I said, turning to indicate the bird.

It was gone!

"F***ing weirdo! she snapped as she waddled off.

Damned bird!

Heart-stopping Question

There is a question asked by children that can strike fear into the heart of some parents or grandparents.

I would, if pushed, hazard a guess that the dad's out there will fear this question more than the mum's.

D'ya wanna know what it is?

Yes, you've guessed it! It's "Where do babies come from?"

Anyway, that's the question, but that isn't what I wanted to discuss today.
Listen up and I'll tell you why I brought it up.

So, there we were ... waiting for a green light ... at a pedestrian crossing.
A young woman with baby in a pushchair had just pushed the button an was waiting to cross.
My client, a  young man with learning difficulties, had up to this point, had been silent.  He's not a talker and, when spoken to, produces little more than one word answers.   As we waited for the woman and child to cross and the lights to turn back in our favour, I noticed him begin to grin. He was about to give me one of those "Where do babies come from" moments.

"I know how she got her baby" he said as the woman crossed the road.

Oh-oh! I thought.  What's he going to come out with now?

I was somewhat shocked and taken aback by his statement and before I could respond I ran through all the possible permutations of how this dialogue would progress. Had he been watching dirty movies? Reading dirty books?

I tried to ignore the question and concentrated on the lights.  Change, please change I thought.

As the lights changed and I drove on, I still had not replied as I feared that the only place this conversation would go was down hill and into the gutter. But after a few minutes, just when I thought he'd forgotten all about it and I had relaxed, he said again "I know how she got her baby".

This time, before I could engage my brain and attempt to change the subject,  I asked "How?"

I feared the worst and tried to think of excuses that I could tell my boss in case she ever found out that I had a discussion with a client about sex.

With trepidation and butterflies fluttering around my stomach I feared the worst as he tried formulated his answer.

It took a while but, when it came, I breathed out hard and the butterflies in my stomach flew off to pasture new.

I hastily and readily agreed to what he said and steered the conversation to safer ground by asking him "Are we there yet?"

Now I can hear you all asking "What did he say? What did he say?"

Well, for those that haven't worked it out for themselves, this is what he said ...

"Jesus gave it to her!"