Promenading About Town

                                                         

Needs a Nostrum, Methinks

Yesterday, I decided to wander around my local town to engage in a modicum of focused shopping. Mrs F did not accompany me on this occasion. Sadly, she has had a series of surgeries on her right foot and is thus convalescing at home with a strict injunction, from the banebrake, not to place weight upon her macerated appendage. Consequently, shopping in the town is forbidden. And so, I'm allowed to shop unfettered. Although I would not wish enforced immobility on my good wife, the opportunity to engage in light, untethered shopping is a boon that needs to be clasped/grasped between two plastic shopping bags (if you can find 'em), with alacrity.

 When it comes to shopping, Mrs F is not of this world. To be honest, I regard shopping as a necessary chore, and as such, should be undertaken as efficiently and quickly as possible. Mrs F belongs to a different school of philosophy where shopping is a studied and divine form of recreation. She is quite happy to spend all day shopping and to return to the garth with nowt but corns. In practice, this means I avoid accompanying Mrs F on any of her 'shopping extravaganzas', with due gusto. I am not alone in my assessment of my wife's shopping prowess. In fact, our son and daughter are also none too keen to engage in said activity with the woman that gave them life. Moving forward.......

Anyway, I was between shops when I espied a gaggle of folk on the corner of Ferret Street and Ferret Boulevard. As I'm of a curious disposition I was drawn unto the congregation and peregrinated thereoff/ forthwith. To my surprise, and on further inspection, the commotion concentrated upon a proselyting duo of Jehovah's Witnesses (henceforth known as, JW x 2). Why do they always come in twos- if not pairs?  If I had been accompanied by Mrs F, I would be obliged to look the other way and continue without gainful and fruitful engagement. I would get the: 'don't you fucking dare/stare'. As I was without restraint/constraint either physical or ethereal, I decided to ask the sweet smiling, middle-aged lady for spiritual enlightenment. After a few probing enquiries, it became quite apparent that I was not dealing with the intellectual elite of the organisation. My opinion became fully cemented once she asked from where I once hailed. I replied that I was birthed in the township of  Dudley in the faraway kingdom of England.  Immediately upon my exclamation, she followed up with: "Then you must have heard of Kenny Smith, he's from England". After a brief pause/hiatus, I replied, accordingly: "Could this be the Kenny Smith of 24 Mons Road, Kate's Hill, Dudley. She responded: "No, he was from Wigan". Twas at this time I decided to terminate the conversation, go home, and drink copious amounts of fine ale. This was of course rather unusual as the majority of JW x 2 I have conversed with in the past have buggered off, of their own volition, admittedly after I had been confronted upon my own doorstep. For reasons, that will always remain inexplicable to me, JW x 2 are none too keen to prolong our dialogue.  But on this occasion, I made an excuse, stating that the 'Mega Supa Big Woppa Do Da Store' was having a sale on expired and fire damaged  Arthur Askey Memorabelia- I thank you. I wonder if Kenny Smith reads my blog?