Legends from our own lunchtimes

Friday, September 26, 2008

Ninety


I know it's an oldie, and yes I know I took liberties as the father of the bride when telling it, but it was really used, if you recall to describe the compatibility of the two young people in question.

I'd tell the whole story, this is the bit about her, but it's more fun knowing that he'll be squirming in angst ridden discomfort until the second part is released, perhaps in a few minutes, or perhaps never.

I was reminded of it while cleaning up the street number above, a found item whose history is safe until next week, and since this is the first time I think, since I decided that I would meet a regular publishing day that I've missed it, it's time for the to wheel out a "ready made".

We were in the local fish and chip shop, my youngest daughter and I, (clearly it was my turn to prepare a meal), waiting amid the wafting smells of seafood boiling in an ocean of vegetable oil. One other customer hovered just outside the doorway, but apart from that the town was deserted, as though it had been evacuated in the aftermath of some monstrous natural disaster.

"Number four" called the cheery voice from behind the counter in an accent that showed just a hint of Vietnamese.

"Oh no", enquired the youngest, by then an almost mathematical prodigy, but some years before her collection of University Papers began to litter the walls,"We're going to be here all night!"

"Why?" I inquired, looking around and failing to notice anyone other than the aforementioned doorway hoverer, who clearly was next in line before us.

It was at that moment I realised that while there are the sort of people in life who believe their glass to be half full, and there are the sort of people who believe it to be half empty, there are also the sort of people who read their fish shop queue docket upside down.
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4 comments

gerrod said...

Being quite familiar with the antics of said youngest daughter, I feel confident in saying, "yes, I can really see that happening".

In a similar vein, she also told us the story of the first time she went on a plane... but you can save that one for another time.

Shirl-the-girl said...

You may need to ask mum for that one.

And you're a hamburger- with the lot.

bitingmidge said...

Ahh yes, the NZ trip I think it was, my sweet little deep fried pineapple, ring.

Joan Elizabeth said...

I went into the fish and chip shop in my old home town earlier this year. It was similarly empty. When I placed my order he said that will be around 30 minutes -- which I accepted with a city smart smirk. It turns out the whole town orders by phone these days! After 45 minutes with locals quickly popping in an out in droves we got our meal.

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