Wednesday, 5 March 2014

To say I was...

offended would be the understatement.
I wouldn't mind but I had offered her husband 
a quick skeg of the Sun.

I recognised them from the hotel. 
Stopping for a comfort break at a grotty
service area I settled back with my 
Costa (aplenty) cappuccino.  
After a 20 second peruse of the mighty Sun,
I leant across and out of the kindness
of my heart, offered him the tabloid of the day.
From the length of her upturned nose she said

'Are you on the coach?'
'Do we know you?' was left unspoken.

'I recognise you from the hotel!'
I never forget a face.
Think pig, woods and truffles...
go get 'em girl, no one escapes my notice.
We got into conversation, or more to the point
we hit her on button.

'This is our first Shearings
I couldn't help saying in my best Lady Docker tone.

She asked us which excursions we had been on.

'None, we spent the days walking, 
well we did hop on a bus on the one wet day!'

'Aaah, you obviously used your bus pass.
We haven't got ours yet!'
Bloody cheek!

'What gave you that idea?'
Was my acid-drop reply.

She just lifted a lock of her hair and nodded in
my direction.
Bloody cheek!

I wouldn't mind but her hair
was battleship grey...
mine however, is 'Hardwick White' 
Farrow and Ball
don't you know.


  1. This is sounding for all the world like a down market cruise. Did you pack special Coach Wear for the evenings - and did you get to dine at the coach driver's table?

  2. In fairness Nilly, got a horrible feeling its me! At speed I'm developing into a grumpy old woman.


  3. about a change of colour to throw them off the scent? Red perhaps?

    1. Purple, more like, with just a passing hint of blue rinse.


  4. Are you intending to repeat your coach trip Linda? What has Ted made of it all? I love reading your posts, hope you put the lady in her place don't you know!!!

    1. Picture the scene... first thing on Monday morning, me falling off the new dfs sofa when I spied Ted with his nose in the Shearings brochure! He has booked us for a trip to Bath, this time however we are going under our own steam... business class in the Nissan Micra. How the other half lives, or more to the point how the mighty have fallen.

      No, I couldn't be bothered: I just whipped her across her perm-top with my personal rolled up copy of the Guardian. Thinking '14 down, four letter word for a daft tart' as I climbed back on the coach, ready to complete my paper's crossword!