My son Baz showed me a flyer from a local restaurant, advertising their Mothering Sunday lunch. Before each course there was a little affectionate filial homily.
The first was ok – ‘Red Roses for My Mother’
The second was truly dodgy – ‘Little Bit More than Love For My Mother’
Then followed –‘I Just Want to have you here Longer My Mother’
‘Love Can’t be Measured as a Weight My Mother’
‘You are Always in Our Hearts My Mother’
To start with (particularly after the second creepy message) I thought of Oedipus. But on second thoughts, it’s more Norman Bates really. I just don’t want my children saying things like that to me.
At the end it said –‘BOOK NOW FOR A NICE LUNCH WITH US DONT MISS THE LAST CHANCE OR EVEN DANCE’. Huh? This is an English restaurant, why do they write as if English is a foreign language – and there’s nowhere to dance anyway, except on the bar I suppose if you clear the beermats.
My daughter rang this evening. Her phone had rung; she heard my sister’s voice talking to someone else – evidently she was on her landline and had accidentally phoned daughter Rosie with her mobile. Rose was concerned for Aunt’s bill as she couldn’t get rid of the call. And she was too deep in conversation to hear yoo-hoos from the mobile. I suggested she unplug her phone. I first thought of that when I had one of those annoying recorded messages that goes on for ages, when I was waiting for another call, it’s the only way I can think of to cancel a call if the other person doesn’t put the phone down.
I have unwisely said I will make vital phone calls tomorrow morning and now realise I’m shopkeeping. Better take the phone book and hope for no customers.