Yarns and Yawns

A good start with Bonkers TV today. A certifiable bloke popped up asking the questions. Every point made was accompanied with windmill gestures (not that unusual) but when finalising his arguments he would then turn sideways and fling his left arm forward, like a famous crooner at the London Palladium completing a barnstorming ballad. His guest remained wide-eyed, somewhere lost between amusement and bemusement, perhaps wondering if a rousing ovation was expected.

The last Skype guest offered a variation background from the usual minimalism of crooked picture and drooping pot plant, or the equally popular buy-books-by-the-yard intellectualism. In this case she sat in front of a bare brick wall, which was no doubt some highly expensive modernist design feature. Unfortunately the inescapable impression given was that the poor stricken lady had found herself unexpectedly in front of a firing squad.

As Basil Brush would say, "Boom, Boom".

Later in the coffee lounge of my favourite hotel, geriatric gymnastics ruled the day. I was used to ancient bottoms  easing into heavy repro Victorian armchairs, each manoeuvre putting professional removal men to shame with the degree of unexpected heavy lifting involved. It was brilliant, though, when the most vociferous lady rattled her gnarled walking stick along the chair and table legs in order to attract the waitresses attention. It reminded me of a school boy running the dirty end of a stick along some metal railings.

Super.

Another lady received a telephone call and her husband yielded a loud, resigned sigh. He knew what was coming. The conversation went on forever and in the end he took her coat and helped her on with it while the chat continued, the phone mysteriously appearing and disappearing down every hole and pocket in the garment. Great stuff.

She was last seen walking in front of a honking car with the phone still attached...

But my coffee was cold.