Just as I was taking the iced top off my vanilla slice (because vanilla slices are a lot less prone to having the custard squirt off in all directions if you remove and eat the iced top first) an elderly woman approached bearing a somewhat serious air.
(Thinks: What does she want?)
‘When it was the Queen’s Coronation,’ she began…
(What? Who is she?)
‘…some friends of ours had a TV. We didn’t, because not many people did in those days…
(Why is she telling me this?)
‘…but our friends did, so we went to their house to watch it.
(Scowling now. This woman is completely bonkers.)
‘Anyway, I sat on the floor the whole time because all the seats were taken…
(Has she escaped from somewhere?)
‘…and when it was all over I stood up, and I was really stiff. “Have you got a numb bum?” asked my father. And I had.
(I don’t think I’m quite believing this.)
‘So I saw you sitting on these cold stones…
‘…and I thought “That man’s going to have a numb bum.”’
(Ah! Enlightenment at last!)
‘Oh, that’s OK,’ I said. ‘I won’t be here very long.’
‘But there’s a wooden bench there,’ she continued unabashed.
(I know, but there’s an old woman sitting on it who looks like she mightn’t smell too good. That’s why I sat here in the first place.)
‘No, I’ll be fine. Won’t be here long.’
‘Oh, all right, but I just thought I’d tell you.’
She walked off smugly, having apparently done her duty.
(Mad old bat.)
She was wrong about the numb bum, but Uttoxeter is that sort of town. And it's all true.