A Cautionary Tale

I quite enjoy popping down to see wifeys Nan. She lives in Shaftesbury so visits are limited to a couple of times a year. Her house, though modern and practical, is crammed full of antiquity and curiosities. Old pictures, each with it’s own story, oddities assembled with care on shelves, ornate porcelain and silverware arranged for display,... I love mooching around.

At 84, Nanny is a sprightly old bird. Fiercely independent with a sharp mind, she is articulate and quick witted and always game for a good old fashioned chin wag. She is a window into a bygone era, regaling us with stories from a time that seems so distant and yet, in her presence, so tangible.

I love to just sit in her lounge, quietly reading a magazine and eavesdropping. I pick up snippets as Nanny and wifey chat intensely, frivolously: weaving their way around a multitude of subjects as the conversation meanders on without any agenda. I drop in and out when something piques my interest, relishing the parry and thrust of good debate. But it always isn’t so. Sometimes I don’t want chat....but you cant say ‘excuse me Nan but I really don’t care for chatter today I would like some peace and quiet’ No, instead you have to pretend to be listening.....a cautionary tale of note follows....

A few months ago Wifey and I went down to Shaftesbury to pick up Nanny and bring her up to Shropshire for a holiday. That’s a four hour drive. (or three, if Nanny’s on form and you’re not in the mood) Such was the case this time and whilst Nanny gamely chattered on I supplied the appropriate rejoinders where required, drifting off contentedly in my own world.

All of a sudden Nanny turns and looks directly at me. ‘Do you get much rape in Jersey Steve?’ she trilled.

(ehh?! ....where are we?...Whats going on?)

Given the gravity of the subject I was somewhat worried I had been caught napping.....

(time’s ticking....)

(Think! Think!!)

‘Um...hardly ever...the police do a good job keeping the streets safe’

She replied ‘Oh? How strange. I find all that yellow so boring....’

(eh???)

She was of course referring to the blankets of yellow rapeseed blossoms across the Dorset countryside. Memo to self: pay more attention or you may find yourself up a dirty creek with no paddle.