A while back we were out walking and passed by a gentrified
country pub round about lunch time. As we waited for everyone to catch up, I
watched a new Range Rover pull up on the other side of the road. A youngish man climbed out with a small
child and both set off across the road to the pub.
A few seconds later a young woman with long, bottle-blonde
hair, an out of season tan and skin-tight jeans tottered after them in high heels.
Was it Mummy? Or was it Daddy’s trophy tart?
It was a most unkind and uncharitable thought which I'm a little ashamed of, but modern life
tends to pop them into my mind like snooker balls slammed into the mental pocket. She may have had a heart of gold and a PhD in nuclear physics for
all I know.
She certainly lacked poise though. Bound to turn heads in that
particular pub - but not to her advantage. My unkind thought would not have been the last that day and possibly not the unkindest.
Oh dear, I'm not mellowing with age though.
10 comments:
Round where I live, most of the mothers look like that.
Not necessarily an unkind thought. Given the existence of a phenomenon in one's environment it pays to know about it so as to avoid embarrassment. ("What a lovely toy! Did mummy give it to you? Oh, she did, but that's not mummy....OK...")
And thinking that the young man could pull a trophy tart would probably cause him enormous gratification. He might be an avid reader and commentator on your blog...
Probably mummy, trophy tarts don't do brats. Relax, time enough for life's vicissitudes to creep up on them, let them gather ye rosebuds for a bit - even in a swanky 4x4 and execrable taste. Just remember they are paying your pension(s).
Mark - not so much round here. No Range Rovers either.
Sam - an avid reader? Good job I didn't think of that :)
Roger - true, they are paying my pension. Nice people.
Tut tut - and I thought I was the only one who had such thoughts. :)
James - :)
AKH, round my way, all the mummies need a Range Rover or 4x4 for the tricky two-mile school run up and down those gentle hills.
Mark - the Derbyshire hills aren't so gentle, but you don't need a Range Rover. The sheep farmers have scruffy Land Rovers. I quite fancy a scruffy Land Rover - other road users seem to avoid them.
AKH: Don't worry: p*ss and vinegar types live longer, I think. Mild acidity is a preservative.
Sackers - they tend to, although I read somewhere that Clyde Barrow described Bonnie Parker as "full of piss and vinegar"!
Post a Comment