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:
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
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 ;-)
Oh well!!
Funny story...I'm sure it will be told often at all your meetings.
Why does chicken shit smell so bad?
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?
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