Just realised we all took a vow not to reveal what goes on in that particular venue, but seeing as I won't be going back there, thanks, I can *hint* at some of the Dementor- like malarkey.
I decided today that, yes, I do need *some* counselling ( probs) but seeing as they all made me feel like a cross between Pollyanna and Anne of Green Gables; we can safely assume I aint gonna be going be getting what this varmint needs in that specific locale.
I moseyed on outta there and went to gaze upon the beaoooootiful flowers and fountains in the Borough gardens of our county town.
What's not to like? They have this crazy water fountain gizmo which the wee toddlers were stomping on to get splish splashed..I was half inclined to strip down to my knickers myself and have a go. I settled for sitting on the edge of the marble fountain instead, far more sedate for woman of my advanced years.
I hied me to Morrisons to purchase comestibles and once again earned myself a shot at the crown of 'most eccentric person in Bridport'- hotly contested- by grabbing a young customer on the wrist and ordering him to reach me down a pack of Jordan's nutty crunch.
Upon my return to my gaff in Bohemia, which I freely admit I am totally and actually in love with; I told my son I would dance naked on top of the Eiffel Tower if his Grandad ( his paternal Grandfather, please note) ever said the words:
'Yo bitcsh , I am gonna kill yer blak ass,' which his grandson assured me was a possibility this side of frozen Hades.
Spellings changed to avert swear filter there.
I shouldn't knock the full extent of your ol' granpappys vocabulary. I have had many an elderly customer tells me things I had to look up in my dictionary.
ReplyDeleteBe careful when betting nakedness on the Eiffel Tower. You never know when it might bite you in the bum. Not the Tower you understand... that doesn't have teeth.