fudge

Monday, 14 October 2013

Foul Play

I met Matt the Op for coffee one day last week – you remember Matt?

Yes you do!

I badoozled him way back – remember?

No?

Ok, I'll refresh your memory – social experiment - went to the wrong place – chipped tooth – split lip – coffee everywhere – remember NOW??

Hmmm, well, if it's still not ringing any bells or perhaps you missed that post for whatever reason you can read it here if you like.

Anyway, Matt and I stayed in touch and, despite the less than auspicious start, we have remained friends and every now and then I get a message from him saying he's in town and do I want to meet up.

We arranged to meet a 11 o'clock and so I spent the morning doing a few things around the house and garden. I was busy picking the last of the green tomatoes (which are never going to ripen on the plant now) when I realised it was already 10.20 and I looked like crap.

I jumped in the shower, slapped on some make up, threw on some clean clothes and headed out of the door.

Matt and I always meet at the same place, (he says it saves him having to second guess where I might end up if he suggested somewhere different - honestly, you make one little mistake … ) but when I got there I found Matt looking forlornly at a sign in the window that said 'closed for refurbishment'.

We decided to try our luck around the corner at Mr Miles Tearooms. Mr Miles is rather posh and a favourite with ladies of a certain age who wear hats, they serve leaf tea with tiny silver strainers and it's decorated in the Art Deco style.

I can do posh!!

Yes I can – stop laughing …

As we waited to be seated (you can't just walk in and sit down in posh places y'know) Matt sniffed – I looked at him horrified – 'stoppit' I hissed – 'you don't sniff in Mr Miles!'

'What's that smell?' he muttered sniffing again – 'can't smell anything' I said, 'now can you please behave properly and stop distracting me – ay'm tryin' to mayntayne my aura' – See, I even have special posh voice and everything!

Matt continued to look perplexed as we were seated and kept glancing around suspiciously and then I caught a whiff of it – 'Christ, that smells like shit!' I said rather more loudly than I'd intended.

Several little old ladies fixed me with their beady eyes and I subsided.

Fortunately I was then distracted by cake and Matt and I chatted happily away for a while.

It was a lovely day, the sun was shining and there was a Autumnal nip in the air but, with the sun pouring in the window of the tea shop, it was warm and cosy inside. The smell Matt had noticed started to get stronger and we both began to look at the little old ladies suspiciously. Seriously, it was starting to put me off my lemon drizzle cake (eaten delicately with a fork) – even the waitress was looking a little wild eyed and seemed reluctant to approach the tables near us.

One of the ladies produced a lace edged hanky from her bag and held it to her nose and the gentle hum of conversation became a buzz.

What the bloody hell WAS that smell!!!

I couldn't stand it any longer and jumped up and opened the window nearest to us letting in a blast of cold air.

Making my way back to the table I noticed Matt looking at me with a horrified expression – 'What?' I said – 'It's either that or asphyxiation and if opening the window means sacrificing a couple of old ladies to the cold well, it's a sacrifice that I'm personally prepared to make!'

'It's not the cold' he said,'what the bloody hell is THAT' he muttered gesturing at my feet with his eyes.
I looked down …

Fuck, fuck, FUCK!!!

As I left the house I'd pulled on a pair of black boots – now I have TWO pairs of almost identical black boots, one old pair that I wear for walking the dog etc and one decent pair that I wear when I'm going out. In my haste I'd picked up the wrong pair ...

I'd last worn these boots the previous weekend when I went to feed my neighbours chickens as they were away. Attached to the sole of my left boot was a clump of straw welded on with chicken shit!


I still vigorously maintain that I can do posh ... just not very well … and maybe not on that particular day …

5 comments:

Emma Kate at Painted Style said...

Uh oh! I'm dying to know what happened next! Did you leave or wash your boot in the ladies loos?
You just reminded me why we don't keep chickens. They crap everywhere! xx

Sarah said...

Don't they just Emma Kate! I shuffled out dragging my lump of chicken shit with me (after finishing my cake of course) leaving my aura (and aroma) behind ;-)

joeh said...

Oh well!!

Funny story...I'm sure it will be told often at all your meetings.

Anonymous said...

Why does chicken shit smell so bad?

Sarah said...

Or we could just add it to the ever growing list of things 'never to be mentioned again' Joe ;-)

It's the worst smell isn't it anon - god knows why, cow shit smells fine and I don't object to horse shit either and they eat the same kind of stuff don't they?