Saturday, December 15, 2007

Man with a Dog

My mother's habit of chatting to everyone she meets sometimes backfires somewhat.

During our trip to Barrow we met an oldish man walking his dog.

Nice, friendly dog. Friendly man, too. My mother told him that we were from Leeds. He told my mother that his son lived in Wakefield, then added,

"They call it Land of the Waving Palms, you know. Geddit?"

We didn't, for a fraction of a second, until he added a nudge and a few winks and we realised what he meant.

"Not far from Bradford, either. Want to know what they call that?"

We didn't, actually. I was already moving in the general direction of anywhere else.

Anyway, he told us his unfunny nickname for somewhere where Asian people live.

"Goodbye," said my mother. I had already left.

"I'm not a racist, mind," he said to my retreating back. "As long as they don't come round here."

1 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Maybe she'll stop now! It would be fantastic if she did - though what would we do for humiliation then?

Thank you, Racist Barrowvian. He can be as bonkers as he likes if I never have to watch my 82-year-old grandmother shamelessly flirting again, followed by "This is my granddaughter - she owns a cat, you know. She goes to a university - gosh, your nephew goes to a university too? That's a coincidence! Oh honestly, you silly girl, why aren't you talking to the nice man?"

10:30 pm  

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