Also, we have nearly sold our car.  A man came to test drive it on
Saturday and fell in love with it.  I didn’t meet him, but Mr.
Waffle thought he was dodgy.  He said that he was a private
detective and he needed a new car urgently as his last one exploded
while he was tailing someone on the job.  And he was very
keen.  Mr. Waffle agreed a price and then became depressed. 
He felt that we were ignorant foreigners being taken for a ride and we
would be paid, if at all, in counterfeit notes.  And he pointed
out, when the man rang on the phone, he never said his name, a
suspicious sign, he thought.  Professional idiosyncracy, I
decided.  Anyway he turned up this morning to pay the deposit with
his wife and daughter in tow and it all seemed a little less
dodgy.  It’s funny to think that, if all goes well,  our
little car will be out and about tailing errant spouses or whatever it
is private detectives do in Belgium.  The only problem now is
logistical.  Before we can close the sale we have to all kinds of
technical things and this may not be a great week for us to take the
car for tests and hand it over.  Oh well, doubtless everything
will work out.

And finally, even as I write, Mr. Waffle is picking my mother up from
the airport.  She is going to stay with us for 10 days to provide
moral support to the Princess and more practical support for us. 
Hurray for mothers.  Of course, now I’m worried that the twins won’t
actually be born before she leaves.

beachhutman

on 26 September 2005 at 22:21

When I was a teacher in Africa (is there no END to where BHM has been?) I was confronted daily with mixed classes of fifty African teenagers, some of whom felt compelled to remove their tops in the heat. Yes, girls too. It was AWFUL I tell you Bloodnock, awful!.
Anyway, as I was saying, one day something happened when I was writng on the board, and I turned round and demanded who had done it in a truly scholmasterly way. And several of the pupils pointed to the culprit, and to this day I remember their cry, “It was him, Mister, the black one!”
So there. Even coloured kids notice colours. “They’re colourblind at that age” say the PC brigade. Total, absolute, fur trimmed, bollocks. It’s just that they don’t know that colour’s at all significant – THAT they learn from adults. 0
Sweetie(s) given    

poggle

on 27 September 2005 at 11:14

Oooh – did the detective have a waxed moustache? And spats? How exciting.
(And I expect the Princess was indeed confused by the the white parent/black child combo, and not anything more than that …). 0
Sweetie(s) given    

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