Nutters
When I get visitors my cats will normally treat them with suspicion and contempt as is the way with cats, but sometimes they behave like common tarts and present their heads or bellies for a tender rubbing. Often I will be told, “This always happens” or “Oh, cats always like me”. Some people it seems just attract cats.
With me, it’s mad old ladies. If there’s a mad old lady within a thousand yards you can bet your life she’ll find me and attempt to engage in pointless chatter. I related this fact to my great friend Mza some years ago and he looked down on me like I was the mad one. Then, one afternoon as we were having a coffee at Reading station it happened. An elderly woman, obviously a few tiles short of a roof, sat down next to me and started twittering on about something entirely random. I grinned at Mza while (some of) his concerns as to my sanity slipped from his mind.
It happened again tonight.
I was sat on the train at Windsor minding my own business, reading my book (The Tin Drum by Günter Grass; quite superb) when a bonkers old lady passed through the carriage chiding everyone for looking miserable. “Smile all of you” she ordered, “you’re all so miserable”. But she continued on her way down the train and I paid it no mind.
Unfortunately, as I got off the train in the village, there she was on the platform, poised for her assault. I passed gingerly by with my head down, giving off as much of a “leave me the fuck alone” vibe as I could muster but to no avail. I had no sooner passed her when I heard the clackety clackety of her wheelie’d trolley, the type that seems to get issued to all women when they pass 60, no more than 4 steps behind me.
This called for diversionary tactics. Crossing the road I headed into the offy. I needed cigs & wine anyway and it seemed like an opportune time to re-stock while mad old lady (MOL from now on) found her way back to the asylum or whatever place it was she hailed from. The door into the village wine shop makes the most frightful buzzing noise as you open it. It buzzed rudely as I entered and as I was browsing the reds (Californian) it buzzed again.
“Hello”
It was MOL.
“Are you free this evening, you’re lovely”
“No, I have plans”
“Shame. That’s a nice suit, what do you do?”
“I’m sort of in finance”
“Ohhhh, I have £20,000 will you invest it for me?”
“No, I don’t really give advice, I’m more your trouble-shooter”
“In what?”
”Mortgages now”
“Ohhhh, I need a mortgage”
“Nationwide is across the road”
“Is that a ban the bomb badge? I support that”
(I have a CND badge on my Crombie)
“It is, yes”
You see MOL’s know stuff, they can somehow sense the gaps in your armour. She continued;
“They should bomb the Castle; Windsor Castle is fucking awful. Henry VIII had syphilis you know”
“So I hear. I think the Castle’s beautiful, but I hate what it stands for, the fact that we’re subjects not citizens”
“Yes, kill them all!!!”
I’d selected a nice Syrah, 3 for 2 as well, so clutching my 3 bottles I headed for the counter. She followed.
By now my ‘vibe’ seemed to be having some effect. As I chatted idly to the shop manager she started to back away. The door buzzed and she was gone.
“I attract nutters,” I stated obviously as I handed over my card “and 20 Bensons please.”
“Yes, it seems you do” she replied.
Leaving, I was again ambushed. But I was ready.
“Have a good evening” I smiled as I headed out towards home. The clackety clack followed, but she was no match for my pace and determination and it soon faded into the distance. I made it home without further incident.
And here I will stay. I have tabs and I have wine. And I'm free of MOLs. Until the next one...
With me, it’s mad old ladies. If there’s a mad old lady within a thousand yards you can bet your life she’ll find me and attempt to engage in pointless chatter. I related this fact to my great friend Mza some years ago and he looked down on me like I was the mad one. Then, one afternoon as we were having a coffee at Reading station it happened. An elderly woman, obviously a few tiles short of a roof, sat down next to me and started twittering on about something entirely random. I grinned at Mza while (some of) his concerns as to my sanity slipped from his mind.
It happened again tonight.
I was sat on the train at Windsor minding my own business, reading my book (The Tin Drum by Günter Grass; quite superb) when a bonkers old lady passed through the carriage chiding everyone for looking miserable. “Smile all of you” she ordered, “you’re all so miserable”. But she continued on her way down the train and I paid it no mind.
Unfortunately, as I got off the train in the village, there she was on the platform, poised for her assault. I passed gingerly by with my head down, giving off as much of a “leave me the fuck alone” vibe as I could muster but to no avail. I had no sooner passed her when I heard the clackety clackety of her wheelie’d trolley, the type that seems to get issued to all women when they pass 60, no more than 4 steps behind me.
This called for diversionary tactics. Crossing the road I headed into the offy. I needed cigs & wine anyway and it seemed like an opportune time to re-stock while mad old lady (MOL from now on) found her way back to the asylum or whatever place it was she hailed from. The door into the village wine shop makes the most frightful buzzing noise as you open it. It buzzed rudely as I entered and as I was browsing the reds (Californian) it buzzed again.
“Hello”
It was MOL.
“Are you free this evening, you’re lovely”
“No, I have plans”
“Shame. That’s a nice suit, what do you do?”
“I’m sort of in finance”
“Ohhhh, I have £20,000 will you invest it for me?”
“No, I don’t really give advice, I’m more your trouble-shooter”
“In what?”
”Mortgages now”
“Ohhhh, I need a mortgage”
“Nationwide is across the road”
“Is that a ban the bomb badge? I support that”
(I have a CND badge on my Crombie)
“It is, yes”
You see MOL’s know stuff, they can somehow sense the gaps in your armour. She continued;
“They should bomb the Castle; Windsor Castle is fucking awful. Henry VIII had syphilis you know”
“So I hear. I think the Castle’s beautiful, but I hate what it stands for, the fact that we’re subjects not citizens”
“Yes, kill them all!!!”
I’d selected a nice Syrah, 3 for 2 as well, so clutching my 3 bottles I headed for the counter. She followed.
By now my ‘vibe’ seemed to be having some effect. As I chatted idly to the shop manager she started to back away. The door buzzed and she was gone.
“I attract nutters,” I stated obviously as I handed over my card “and 20 Bensons please.”
“Yes, it seems you do” she replied.
Leaving, I was again ambushed. But I was ready.
“Have a good evening” I smiled as I headed out towards home. The clackety clack followed, but she was no match for my pace and determination and it soon faded into the distance. I made it home without further incident.
And here I will stay. I have tabs and I have wine. And I'm free of MOLs. Until the next one...
posted by phylos @ 20:51
8 Comments:
Can I be the next one?
As a young woman already afflicted with MOL-itis, I think I'd qualify! It might be the next great up and coming occupation:
Wanted: Someone who excels at following strange young men around. Must ask silly questions and offer up random, unexpected facts. Sanity not required.
Yes. I think that'd fit me to a tee!
I have a slightly more disturbing one.... one the surface it should be quite fun... and with a different mind and agenda, it could be very WRONG.
I attract young Goth girls!
Unfortunatly being 29 it is slightly disturbing having 14 year old girls with the make-up applications skills of a gorrilla with a trowel, follow me round town.
The usual conversation involves, "oooh that's a nice Mettalica T-shirt" or You work at the (bar name here) don't you" At least you can have some fun talking crap with old ladies, young girls have no conversdation skills and the obvious other use for them would land me with a 12 year stretch and a sphincter with a similar one!
You running that bar in Kansas now??
http://www.kake.com/home/headlines/2319196.html
Hmm. What a great post. Honestly though I feel like men need a taste of the akwardness of the obsessed Chatty Cathy type.
I have had starkers galore leaving me unsympathetic to the freak magnet syndrome-- and I would exchange the starker burden any day for an older chatter box type. At least they seem harmless (on the surface.) Older Starkers are creepy and scarey.
My mother on the other hand will talk to any one and is very likely to become one of the types that follow you around.
Oh I also don't think your 29 year-old
buddy should be complaning about the 14 years olds..jeez. He will miss that attention at 35 when they stop looking.
Phylos - I see you still have talent for pulling the birds, but instead of being 19 years into life, they are 19 years from death...unlucky sunshine!!
Lill - That's why life is shit...when you are legally allowed to pull 14 yr olds, where the feck are they...when ya can't, they swarm!
Personally, my goal has always been to have millions of cats and smell of wee while annoying Phylos types at train stations. Its important to remain focussed...
And yeahy, our mail server no longer blocks blogs! At one point, China had more free access than we did!
welcome back to the outside of the asylum kittie
can I smell wee?
Think yourself lucky pal. I get the joy of 75 year old ladies turning up for treatment, who smell of cheese and like wearing a thong!!
Fungus and French underwear isn't quite the glamorous professional life that i'd hoped for!!
I know times are hard at our age ... so let me know if you want me to get you their phone no's!
dude - that is horrid!!
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