You will, I hope, allow that it is extremely unusual for me to swear at complete strangers. Rare, indeed, for me to make rude finger gestures. But I did on Sunday afternoon!
We had taken Joan to The Plough in Fen Ditton for lunch. Tabitha and Gareth joined us. They came on their bicycles. The Plough is extremely popular. Deservedly so - they do lovely food and are not hugely expensive (£90 for 5; two courses each, plenty of booze). So you need to book well in advance. I rang as they opened last Monday and only had the choice of 12 or 5. If you want a table at 1, you need to book a long time in advance!
Anyway. We got there, enjoyed a lovely lunch, had a good natter and a lovely time. Then, when it was time to go home, The Builder went to collect the car, and I escorted Joan to the door. Taffa and Gaz went to inspect the facilities to make sure they were in adequate condition.
The car park has suffered sadly over the winter and is full of potholes. There are some quite dandy potholes just by the ramp down from the door. Now we clearly didn't want to drop Joan into a deep pothole full of muddy water. She's only little - we might never get her out. So The Builder had to stop so that the exit from the car park was blocked. But really - how long does it take to get an elderly lady into the back of a car? A minute? Perhaps two?
A car pulled up and waited patiently for us to get Joan in and secure. Another car came roaring up. Couldn't go anywhere. We, and the other car, were in the way. He leaned on his horn. The Builder remonstrated. The driver yelled that he wasn't tooting at us but at the car in front of him. But he couldn't go anywhere cos we were in the way.. The driver yelled some more. I made a rude gesture that I very seldom use, except in jest. The driver retaliated by leaning on his horn some more. And I am afraid that I suddenly got very, very tired of people who get impatient when you are manifestly doing something which is not going to take long, such as putting elderly, disabled people, or infants, or anything, into a car, and lean on their horns. And my inner Australian was abruptly and unexpectedly released. As we went to pull away I thanked the patient driver for waiting. And told the impatient driver that, in my opinion, he was a f***wit.
Tabitha tells me that this very driver, his female companion and two teenage persons had gone into The Plough as we were leaving, walked past the queues of people waiting for the next sitting and simply sat down at the table we had just left. When they were asked if they had a reservation, for the pub was fully booked until 6:00, they said no, but surely that didn't matter. They were hungry, there first and had sat down. I suspect they were quite rude to the staff person for they were invited to leave. I don't think they were having a very good day.
Tabitha also tells me that as they drove past her and Gareth, waiting to ride away on their bikes (and Tabitha and Gareth had had nothing to do with any of this, other than observing) the teenagers in the back made rather rude gestures at them. Nice!
I must confess that I did rather hope that the driver might have the tiniest of tiny strokes. Not sufficient to seriously inconvenience him. Just enough so that he found it hard to get in and out of cars and that people would have to wait for him. And I hope they toot and toot and toot and toot.
Although using your horn for such purposes is, in the UK, not strictly legal.
I suppose I should be rather ashamed of yelling and swearing at strangers. But I'm not, not really. People should be more patient. It's hard enough being elderly, little and disabled without people tooting their horns at you!
It's a very long time since I have used the fwit word. A long, long time. I'm not sure quite where it came from on Sunday. But I think I might revive it. It's a very satisfying word to use at someone who is indeed a fwit
No comments:
Post a Comment