Saturday, 30 March 2013

An old bird in Perth

My previous encounter with an old lady was much more pleasant than today's one, when I was standing in the long queue to buy my newspaper and a different little old lady approached from the magazine racks, with a suitable magazine for an old lady in her hand, and stood right beside me, facing me at right angles, slightly in front of me and clearly, so far as I could see, intent on sneakily sidling in front of me and jumping the queue, as little old ladies often do, in my experience. The queue turned away to the left behind me, so she could perhaps be forgiven for not noticing the rest of it, but she could not be forgiven for not noticing 6 foot 4 inches of me, towering tall above her 5 foot and no inches of little old ladydom, at a guess.

But... Ah well, I thought, I will forgive her, and will let her go in front of me, because a fight with an old lady would be rather unseemly, and I would probably come off the worst in any case. The metal tip of her umbrella looked dangerous.

So I just stood there. Not moving. Not looking at her.

And she just stood there, angled towards me but slightly in front of me. Not moving. Not looking at me.

And the queue did not move for all of... oh... about fifteen seconds, I suppose.

And then she looked up and me and squawked angrily: "Are you not going to let me through?"

"I'm sorry?" I said, not apologising but in a tone that was asking her to repeat, for I did not understand.

"Are you not going to let me through? I've been standing here trying to get through to the newspapers."

"Oh! Sorry! I thought you were waiting to be served."

"Do you think I would just barge my way in to be served?"

Her tone suggested outrage now.

"Eh... No... Sorry..." and I stepped aside to let her pass through the line, only to hear her exclaim, "Such rudeness!" as she scuttled by.

Rudeness? Oh well. Too much to expect her to ask to get through, I suppose.

Sadly that's one little old lady who won't be happy to see me again.

And on the way back to the car I spotted an opportunity to illustrate my humdrum and pointless little tale with a crow sitting high up on an ornamental tower. I don't know if it's a female crow, or even if it's an old crow, but it'll do.

I quite like writing humdrum and pointless little tales about my meaningless days, while resting with a cup of tea by my side. I used to do it more often on the blog, some years ago. I may return to that habit now, regardless of whether or not anyone wishes to read.


  1. It is also my experience with little old ladies. (And my building being labelled "Senior" is filled with them.) They are a miserable bunch. Very few old gentlemen around here as they die much sooner than the old hags. Probably because they are nicer. I guess a sour spirit keeps one alive longer. That's why you put onions in vinegar to preserve them....

  2. I love your beautiful photos. But it's also very nice to read a few words with them. A slice of life....

  3. Ha ha ha Claude... Thank you so much for calling them miserable old hags, for I would never be allowed to, at least not out loud. There are of course, a few exceptions eh? Certainly one such exception in Toronto, although possibly not if we were both heading towards the last pastry from opposite directions? :)

    And I do wonder why the men all die so much sooner? Maybe coping with the developing sourness just gets too much for them? Fortunately, of course, my own Sweet Dulcinea is barely aging at all and still has plenty of honey and sugar within, I add hastily, as she is nearby :)

  4. I am more than happy to read about your 'humdrum life'. Except that it isn't.
    And, as an increasingly grumpy old woman, I intend to outlive the men in my life and get to suit myself for a change. Grumpy and bitter and twisted today.

  5. There is a fine beer brewed quite near to me called Bitter & Twisted ( It's actually called Bitter & Twisted Blond, being a light coloured beer. Ha ha.. An evening in the company of a few Bitter & Twisted Blonds can actually be very nice indeed for this grumpy man.

  6. ...and note that the label of that beer also says "Spicy, Aromatic, Zesty", which is exactly the way that I like my bitter and twisted blonds to be :)

  7. Clearly some little old ladies expect people to have eyes in the back of their heads or to be psychic...