Whilst in Derry t'other day with Miss Martha, her grandfather (my first husband) and his lady I got into a (sort of) conversation with some other lady. Y'know I nearly sort of hate to call her a 'lady'. I'd rather call her a 'woman' or perhaps a 'mad bint'. Anyways we got chatting as I sat outside Tescos while my first husband's beloved was in there shopping for the nappies that we left behind when we embarked on our 'day oot'. So - Mad Bint starts chatting to me. I was totally not in the mood as I had just checked my bank balance and was feeling rather worried and poverty-stricken. So we're having this banal conversation about the cost of Christmas and the crazy demands made by (her) grandchildren when Miss Marthas grandfather and his better half appeared,
Well, said the Bint. No need to ask you who this is. This is your daughter. She's your spitting image.
I smiled wanly as I wished her dead.
My first husband's partner is two years older than me. So not only does she look young enough to be my daughter, she also looks young enough to be the mother of a two-year-old child. It's my white hair. It must be! That or the Mad Bint is also half-blind and thoroughly drunk or medicated. This mistake might have made somebody's day but it certainly wasn't mine.
6 comments:
Don't you mind the bint, she is just jealous of your lovely hair.
LOve you Grannymar!
She must have been blind.
"jealous", "blind" and daft!!
And here I've been worrying about the mad winds carrying you off!
anne
Ahhh, but haven't you got the better deal with your Bert, and Miss Martha
Next time she opens her pie hole, stick a ....ummm better not...more trouble than she's worth.
All them Derry wans are not wise. I say this after careful observation of them at close range.
Post a Comment