Gone with the wind

 

It was a lovely summer’s afternoon that Sunday when we sat as a family and enjoyed a sumptuous Sunday lunch. We had roast beef as well as fried chicken which had been marinated in all sorts of flavoursome spices and herbs; accompanied by an assortment of vegetables including of course the dreaded Brussels sprouts.

I have never understood why God created this particular vegetable; but create it He did. No doubts He has His reasons and one day we’ll discover how beneficial it is for us and how silly and uneducated we have been to dislike it so. However, for now at least, most people I know don’t seem to like it.

I don’t count myself amongst them, of course. I’m neutral in this respect. I would eat Brussels sprouts if offered to me but I would not go out of my way to ask for them in a gourmet restaurant.

But that Sunday, Brussels sprouts were on the menu. I believe they were mixed with walnut pieces and fried onions, if memory serves me right.

We have had Auntie Gertrude from Australia staying with us for a few days so we also invited Father Frederic to Sunday lunch. The two had never met each other so we sat them next to each other around the large dinner table.

It was a lovely meal with pleasant conversation on no particular subject and all subjects that came to mind.

After lunch, we all moved to the living room to enjoy a nice cup of coffee and continue our discussion.

Father Frederic sat on the sofa leaving a little room for someone else to sit beside him and a few minutes later, as we all made ourselves comfortable, Auntie Gertrude came in and sat beside the priest.

Sadly, and embarrassingly for her, as she lowered herself in the well upholstered settee she accidentally broke wind with a thunderous loud noise.

I should mention at this stage that Father Frederic is somewhat hard of hearing; and he therefore did not notice nor pay attention to what had just happened.

I immediately tried to cover Auntie’s embarrassment by asking him loudly some Ecumenical question that came to mind.

As I leaned towards him speaking a little louder than usual I noticed his face going a little pale as the tell-tale strong smell reached my olfactory senses.

He looked at me accusingly as Auntie got out of the room saying “By dingo cobber! I forgot the biscuits in the kitchen … they're special I brought from Adelaide ... I’ll go and get them!”

As she got out of the room, followed by the rest of the family, she added somewhat undiplomatically "they are not as bland as those English biscuits!"

I was left alone with the kind old heavenly priest and the smell from hell.

Suddenly, the Ecumenical question became totally irrelevant as my mind went blank and my hurt pride and wounded honour urged me to shout at the top of my voice “It was not me!!! It was her!!! She did it and went out leaving me sharing her stench.”

But being the stupid gentleman who I am, I said nothing. I kept quiet and protected a lady’s pride and honour by my silence.

“Would you like a biscuit?” I asked Father picking up the large serving dish which was there all the time.

“That’s a lovely piano …” replied Father Frederic getting up from his seat and moving towards the open window. “Our church organ needs mending … it doesn’t pump so much wind in the pipes as it used to.”

Somehow, the uneasy conversation which followed and the fresh air from the open window, diluted the heavy atmosphere in the room as eventually the rest of the family re-joined us accompanied by an innocent looking Auntie Gertrude.

Since that day, Father Frederic keeps his distance from me whenever we meet.

Excerpt from the book

NO WORRIES MATE

Paperback & KINDLE

HERE

Family Tree Surprise

 

Some of the most observant readers here will have noticed on the right hand side-bar the Coat of Arms of one of my ancestors dating back to medieval times. His name was Richard the Lion Liver. Click on the Coat of Arms to learn more about him.

I hope in the next few weeks to introduce other relatives of mine as I research my family tree surprises. 

Another relative I discovered some years back is Aunt Gertrude who at the time lived in Australia. I contacted her and she came to visit us for several (long) weeks.

Whilst she was with us we also heard that our Uncle Herbert from Dundee was not well. So we decided to drive up to Scotland as a family, with Aunt Gertrude from Australia, and stay with him for a few days until he is better. The old man lives alone, and for some unknown reason he got to like Aunt Gertrude. So we decided a visit would do him the world of good.

Unfortunately, the day before we were due to set off I fell off a ladder whilst cutting a tree in the garden. Not much damage done to the tree but I twisted my ankle badly and could not drive.

So it was decided that I’d stay home, and the family with Auntie would travel by train. But she refused. She said the journey was too long for her and she’d rather not go.

This is a woman who came a thousand plus miles from Australia and yet is refusing to travel a few hundred miles to Scotland.

I tried to encourage her to no avail. I would have gladly paid for a one-way ticket to anywhere in the world to avoid being in the house alone with her but I could not shift her. The last time I was alone with her she fed me cat food!

On the day in question they all left and I was alone with Aunt Gertrude who decided to make me better. She prepared chicken soup which apparently is good for invalids.

I told her it was mid-summer and that I hated chicken soup, and besides a twisted ankle does not make one an invalid. She said it contained pearl barley which is good for you!

After I was fed the soup she suggested we pray together for me to get better.

What? I had no intention of praying with her. But she insisted.

She started with the Rosary and then a number of readings from the Bible followed by other prayers and pleadings to the Lord for my health and that of the whole family, including their safe travel there and back, and not forgetting Uncle Herbert.

To be fair, not once during the prayers did she say “cobber” or “fair dinkum” or “no worries” or any of her other Australian sayings; which no doubt pleased the Good Lord no end.

Then, to make conversation, she said she’d been to that posh department store in London on her last visit and bought something unusual to send back to a friend of hers in Adelaide.

“Oh yes …” I said feigning some interest.

“It’s a Santa Claus costume” she said, “I bought it for a friend who has been asked to be Santa at the local church fete!”

“But … it’s the middle of summer!” I mumbled with a smile.

“I know, cobber … I’ll be posting it to him on Monday … I’d like you to try it first to check the size is right. My friend is about the same size as you and well rotund round the waist too …”

She has a nice way of flattering people, I thought. Before I could say anything she’d been to her room and returned with the red costume. I tried the heavy jacket on first, and then the red trousers too, and I even put on the white beard, just to humour her. As I stood up so she could check the costume for length I accidentally stood on a stupid plastic toy which had been left on the floor.

I heard it crack underneath me and felt the pain of my twisted ankle shoot up my leg. I let out a cry as I collapsed back on the sofa.

“Dear Lord … are you OK cobber!” she cried in a panic, “don’t move fella …” she continued as I nodded that I was OK.

She went out of the room and left me alone to recover slowly from the shooting pains. About ten or so minutes later I heard voices from the front door. Two ambulance men entered the room …

Apparently, when she heard the loud crack under my foot she thought I’d broken a bone and phoned for an ambulance.

The two paramedics checked me out and said I was OK. I tried to explain why I was wearing a Santa costume and one of them said: “Don’t worry sir. We’ve been to a number of call-out situations and have seen many sights. We’ve learnt to be discreet and never ask questions!”

What exactly did he mean by that?

To make matters worse, the other ambulance man, the one who said nothing, is a Deacon at our church, and he plays golf in my club too.

I am so angry at the mad woman that I am still fuming days afterwards. The rest of the family think it is all very funny.

Auntie Gertrude said, “Lighten up cobber … if you’d lost some weight round your waist you would have seen the toy on the ground!”

EXCERPT FROM MY BOOK

 

AMAZON LINK HERE