Madcap Saturday Mayhem
... Well, the weather's capricious, the traffic manic and the parents somewhat lunatic, at least.
Mum's second-least plausible suggestion of the day "You should be signing on, you know".
We went to Sainsbury's which, being Saturday, was something of a mistake. Here it turned out that Mum had seemingly become a caucasian version of Auntie Satya (cf. The Archers), when she suggested, entirely unbidden, that I 'ask out' the checkout girl. This has something of the air of clutching at straws in my view, and I certainly don't see how finding myself a Nice Local Girl would help speed my exit from the home of my poor, hapless parents. Once out of earshot I explained to her that, for her information, that was Daisy Cottontop [some names may have been changed] who when I was in the Upper Sixth had been a particularly opinionated Year Seven violinist at my school. Undaunted by the six-year age gap, M continued "opinionated, you say? See, you have something in common". Madness*. Incidentally in contrast to yesterday's Curious Incident Of The Girl In The Daytime (cf. private emails!), I shared with Daisy the much more straightforward half-smile of recognition-and-not-quite-remembering-whether-we-got-along. Though I must say that smiling on demand is a most uncomfortable experience. As you probably know.
Still looking for a short-term job, a long-term job, a purpose in life, and a new car for Mum. All suggestions and contributions received with appropriate gratitude, to the usual address.
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I get the feeling she's testing me, only very occasionally, on my reaction to the idea of girls. No idea what she's testing me for though. Personally however I think 'reluctance to proposition sixth-formers in Sainsbury's' is probably indicative of a well-adjusted temperament...
Mum's second-least plausible suggestion of the day "You should be signing on, you know".
We went to Sainsbury's which, being Saturday, was something of a mistake. Here it turned out that Mum had seemingly become a caucasian version of Auntie Satya (cf. The Archers), when she suggested, entirely unbidden, that I 'ask out' the checkout girl. This has something of the air of clutching at straws in my view, and I certainly don't see how finding myself a Nice Local Girl would help speed my exit from the home of my poor, hapless parents. Once out of earshot I explained to her that, for her information, that was Daisy Cottontop [some names may have been changed] who when I was in the Upper Sixth had been a particularly opinionated Year Seven violinist at my school. Undaunted by the six-year age gap, M continued "opinionated, you say? See, you have something in common". Madness*. Incidentally in contrast to yesterday's Curious Incident Of The Girl In The Daytime (cf. private emails!), I shared with Daisy the much more straightforward half-smile of recognition-and-not-quite-remembering-whether-we-got-along. Though I must say that smiling on demand is a most uncomfortable experience. As you probably know.
Still looking for a short-term job, a long-term job, a purpose in life, and a new car for Mum. All suggestions and contributions received with appropriate gratitude, to the usual address.
---
I get the feeling she's testing me, only very occasionally, on my reaction to the idea of girls. No idea what she's testing me for though. Personally however I think 'reluctance to proposition sixth-formers in Sainsbury's' is probably indicative of a well-adjusted temperament...
posted by Z31 at 4:33 pm
6 Comments:
You could probably simplify the situation simply by coming out to your Mother. An extreme tactic, but one which would certainly leave her on the back foot for the immediate future.
TCH
You scamp. Watch what you say, I bet some people reading this aren't as secure in my sexuality as I am...
Now I'm all confused, not in the same way as you mind. So who was the girl in the daytime? Did she confirm your mother's musings that you are indeed batting for the other team?
Hmm, another anonymous Cambridge commentator. Ahem.
The Girl In The Daytime was a girl in my street who smiled at me, for reasons that were the subject of a little debate at the time and may in my view represent amusement at my appearance (I was wearing my college scarf at the time, just to heighten the hilarity). My mother wasn't present, incidentally.
Incidentally I don't actually think she's musing along those lines, though I do wonder how my (deliberate... obviously...) perpetual singularity is interpreted.
Yet more incidentally it was a founding principle of this blog that I wouldn't explicitly reveal my batting-side - maintain an air of intrigue and all - but regular readers will almost certainly know the answer, what with having known me for years as well...
Are you sure you're not just knee deep in de world's (possibly) longest river
Now that, surely, has to be a Cotterrellism? Yes, I'm sure, not that I can marshal much in the way of proof!
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