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Tilting at windmills
A rainy day on the Fylde coast with a busty wench from North Wales. What more could a boy want?
We couldn't find the museum where the exhibition was supposed to be, so gave up on it, and instead, I pissed off the owner of the town's chippy by questioning his method of cooking chips -- they parboil them, then fry them. Result: claggy, pale, limp chips that all stick together and have the consistency of baby food.
Then a few pints in The Taps -- what a superb pub that is, made a great deal better by Kitty turning up for a couple of creme de menthe's. I had top notch Butter Bump (no, that's not a mistake) from Acorn in Barnsley at 2.65. Yet again, Lancaster proves it's the most expensive place for a drink for miles around.
Lytham is a place where the people walk around with the air of those convinced that they are more stylish than they are: men in pink shirts, plum-coloured jumpers with small, high V-necks; posh jeans and those beige shoes that seem always to curl up slightly towards the toes; fortysomething women in very tight white trousers and black high heels. As the conversation drifted around to the customary topics, we allowed the table next to us a bit of discreet eavesdropping. The poor man next to us, hearing a beautiful girl like Kitty talking about sex, is probably going to have the shakes this evening when he's pouring a G&T for the Colonel and his wife at the Bridge Club.
At Preston station I successfully bored the poor girl serving by telling her that this used to be our railway mess room and that there used to be Bass on tap, because girls in their early twenties are fascinated by the history of the room in which they are working, and in old beers formerly available in Preston station.
So you don't like going out, aren't interested in good conversation, and worst of all, can't punctuate.
8 comments
That’s a great shot! So clever.
Mighty generous to give your neighbor something to consider when he went home that night. Imagine how he feels about his life now.
Girls in their early 20’s are also fascinated by gents our age chatting them up. Take it from me; they LOVE IT.
I can’t punctuate worth a damn so I’m not piling-on. But I’d have spotted that unnecessary space between the first quote mark and letter g.
Thank you. It was Trina with my little cheap camera on auto.
I wasn’t chatting the girl up, I was just gabbling.
It’s the “im” that bothers me. It’s as common as the usual your/you’re, they’re/their/there confusions, and this strange one in British English, where people write “loose” for “lose". And then there’s “alot"… oh, I could go on, and on, and on.
Such errors are helpful, shibboleths by which you can easily eliminate from consideration, people who don’t read.
I hope you had fun at the excursion.
Great pic! What a shame the dancing dude can hardly be seen :(
As for punctuating… *sigh*
Good thing you don’t have to use accents and a number of ortography and gramar rules. Whatsapp and SMSs are not helping much.I speak a hybrid Appalachian-Sandwichian language variety, so talking about sibboleths -new word for me- I make a lot of them.
I love diacritical marks and I wish English had more of them. “Naïve", “rôle", “cliché” “débâcle", but not many others, and even those are becoming antiquated spellings that people can’t be bothered with.
Oh there are indeed, chéri! Folie à deux, fouettée, menage à trois, negligée, là-bas, crème frappée, décolleté, soirée…
Not many though, including my examples, where people bother with the diacritical marks.
I don’t think that “folie à deux", “fouettée", or “là-bas” have been adopted as English words.
Really? I definitely think they should. They’re very useful in some situations.
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