Gardening, or how to dig a hole.
We went to a local Stately Home last Sunday to view the rhododendrons, which allegedly were "just right" according to my wife. It was raining slightly, but got told to "Shut up and get on with it" and, "Here's your cagoule".
The entrance is not very far from the car park and we walked to the little hut (aka garden shed with a door) where the man behind the desk was busily engaged in conversation about the house and the grounds with a (possibly) retired lady.
After about five minutes of us standing there in the rain with no sign of the conversation ending - which had now moved onto the price of fish during the war - I thought I'd chivvy things on a bit with a jovial "Come on mate, stop talking and do yer job!". Fortunately both the lady and the concierge took this in the spirit it was meant and she thanked him and left.
He turned to us and launched off imparting the same information he'd just given to the lady and probably a thousand other people that day.
Although I'd got away with it, I thought I'd just better confirm things and said, "Sorry mate, I wasn't being rude, I was just pulling your leg!".
His eyes lit up and he gave a great beaming smile - "you can't do that!" - and he slapped his hand under the desk. It made an ominous 'thunk' - "I haven't got any!"
I then noticed the foldaway wheelchair at the back of the shed.
"Oh Lordy! I am so sorry!"
"No, it's fine! We do this all the time to each other! Have a nice day."
I think it was then when the sun came out.
The entrance is not very far from the car park and we walked to the little hut (aka garden shed with a door) where the man behind the desk was busily engaged in conversation about the house and the grounds with a (possibly) retired lady.
After about five minutes of us standing there in the rain with no sign of the conversation ending - which had now moved onto the price of fish during the war - I thought I'd chivvy things on a bit with a jovial "Come on mate, stop talking and do yer job!". Fortunately both the lady and the concierge took this in the spirit it was meant and she thanked him and left.
He turned to us and launched off imparting the same information he'd just given to the lady and probably a thousand other people that day.
Although I'd got away with it, I thought I'd just better confirm things and said, "Sorry mate, I wasn't being rude, I was just pulling your leg!".
His eyes lit up and he gave a great beaming smile - "you can't do that!" - and he slapped his hand under the desk. It made an ominous 'thunk' - "I haven't got any!"
I then noticed the foldaway wheelchair at the back of the shed.
"Oh Lordy! I am so sorry!"
"No, it's fine! We do this all the time to each other! Have a nice day."
I think it was then when the sun came out.
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