Banging on

It’s coming up two years since I started writing this blog, it’s been remarkably easy to bang on for that long. It’s possibly not a surprise to those that know me.

I am a banger-onner, my father banged on before me and I dare say, had I had a child, they too would have carried on the family tradition of banging on.

An ex of mine, let’s call him Tuesday, short for C U Next Tuesday, did not appreciate my love of a tale when we were together. He used to say, Fat Tart, not everything that happens is a story.

Well, I disagree. Although I do accept that not everything that happens is an interesting story. Each day has a beginning, middle and an end and surely that’s all any story needs. How was your day? Is an invitation to tell a story that I am unlikely to pass up.

After eighteen months or so I had to dump myself because he couldn’t manage to do it. A couple of months after that we bumped into each other in a hippy, health foody, order at the counter, everyone shares tables with everyone, Portobello cafe.

He was there with his lap over, lady love, who happened to be a belly dancer. I was with Saucy and Beeby. By an unfortunate happenstance the only two available seats left in the cafe as I and my erstwhile boyfriend returned from the counter, were on the same big round table. These two seats necessarily positioned him between his ex, moi, and the woman who was apparently the cause of our breakup.

The belly dancer chatted brightly. She’d been into Selfridge to search out and try on the lingerie range that Saucy and I supplied to the big London stores. It was out of her price range but very lovely in her opinion. WTF?

Hard to know what to say, I believe that my eyebrows spoke for me.

Tuesday was so stressed by the encounter that I thought he might actually die or at least loose consciousness.

I took pity on him when he asked me to tell him a story.

I can’t remember the exact details of the story, it was so very long ago. I know it involved my father cleaning his house painting equipment in the bathtub against my mothers expressed wishes, slipping, falling in, pulling down the shower curtain and getting jumped on by an over excited cat that then spread mess throughout the house.

Tuesday laughed, my mother hadn’t.

There really is always time for a story.

This cat represents my parents cat as my Dad toppled into the messy bathtub, it may also be representative of the horror experienced by Tuesday during this episode.