Young Munki has had a friend round to play this afternoon. Munki and her friend have had quite a boring afternoon. It’s really cold so they can’t play in the garden for long, they can’t be bothered with anything really. That’s never a good thing.
At one point they came in from outside for the umpteenth time, leaving the door wide open yet again. “Grandad! We need you to do something.” His reply was that he was working and to find something to do. “Grandad, this is really important! You need to stop working and do this for us, it’s really important. With a huge sigh he turned to Munki and Anna.
“What’s so important that I have to stop work and do this immediately for you?” “Well, Anna’s cat ran away in 2016 and we need you to make a poster about it in case anyone has found it.”
“I beg your pardon? You want me to stop working to make a poster about a cat that went missing two years ago?” “Yes, someone might have seen it.” It was about point when Boofuls suggested that Munki might like to create and print a poster on her own computer. Her reply went a bit like this. “I’VE TOLD YOU I CAN’T PRINT ON MY COMPUTER!!!” She might as well have added, ‘You stupid man!’
Munki is getting to the stage where she likes to live dangerously, It was certainly dangerous for Boofuls, I thought he was going to have a stroke! He went bright red and huffed a bit before gaining control of himself and suggesting that they might like to find something else to occupy their time with.
Moving on – in other news. My friend Kery saw a poster advertising a psychic night in a local cavern. Yes, you did read that correctly it was a cavern and not a tavern. There is a place nearby that has caverns, stalagmites, stalactites, eerie rock formations and very good mood lighting. Actually, a perfect location for a night with the spooks.
We coughed up our £25 each and turned up at the appointed hour excited and ready to receive spectacular evidence from beyond the grave. chairs were set out theatre style and the mediums worked from the front of the cavern. Shame that, we couldn’t see a damn thing. The show started – with a man and his guitar singing a song about Torquay. I’m trying to be kind here – it was utter rubbish.
It went along the lines of: ‘Here’s a town called Torquay, it’s next to the sea, let’s go, you and me, to a town called Torquay. Like I said, utter rubbish. Kerry, being from Essex and very outspoken voiced her opinion in a stage whisper that would have woken the dead.
“What a load of facking’ rubbish. I ain’t payin’ good fackin’ money to sit through this fackin’ shit, Fack me. I could fackin’ write a better fackin’ song than fackin’ that. “Ere, cam on – let’s go and get a fackin’ drink.
So, we went off into the reception area where various mediums had set out their stalls to do mini readings for a fee of £8 each. “Well, it’s gotta be fackin’ better than that fackin’ shit in there. Let’s have a readin’ aht ‘ere.” Of course her volume control is non existent and disapproving heads turned towards us from every direction. I giggled with embarrassment and looked at the floor.
She went off to have her reading, with the man in the clown-esque suit while I sat and waited for her. As I sat, a woman came and sat down next to me, plonking a laden tea tray in front of me. “You’re sharing a pot of tea with me”, she said in a voice that brooked no argument. Inwardly I stated boldly that I don’t like tea but one look at her face told me that I was better keeping that opinion to myself.
The woman poured me a cup of tea and then proceeded to tell me that she was furious because Wales had been kicked out of the rugby so she got drunk that afternoon and her friend made her come here tonight and it was all rubbish. Then she began to tell me in great detail all about the rugby game. I was effectively her prisoner.
Best night out ever. Worth 25 quid of anybody’s money this lot.
Eventually Kerry came back, thank God. “Let’s go back into the cavern, I suggested, it’ll be a different medium now so it might be better. We went back into the cavern and managed to get a seat very near to the front so we could at least see what was going on. It was a different medium but sadly, no better. Her whole demonstration consisted of leading questions, wild guesses and a string of names. The ‘evidence’ consisted of things like,” You’ve had a lot of problems lately haven’t you?” Well, who hasn’t? “Can you take the name, Margaret? No? Look around for it, you’ll find out at some point.” What a load of tosh.
You will have already guessed that Kerry was still not impressed. She sighed loudly and often. Leaning over to me from time to time to tell me what a load of old shite it was. For my part I just sat quietly in the freezing cold cavern telling myself I wasn’t cold and making the most of the time by doing my pelvic floor exercises.
The best part of the whole evening was the very camp gay medium who saw his own breath and commented, “Did anyone else see that? Oh my God! I thought I’d passed and come back as a message.” Heh. For a second I lost count of my pelvic floors.
As nights out go it probably wasn’t the best one ever. For future reference, if I ever go out with Kerry again it will be somewhere with plenty of background noise so if she isn’t impressed the sound of her disapproval will be lost in the general hubbub. On the plus side….nope, can’t think of one. It was purgatory from start to finish and it cost me £25!