Have you ever felt like you’re in a Monty Python skit? This actually happened to me recently. Indira was hosting her book club at our place, so I took off for a coffee shop in Almyrida.
I was sitting about 15 feet from where the waves were washing up on the shore. The setting was quiet and peaceful. Two couples with interesting accents came up and sat at the table next to mine. They were rather noisy, so I wasn’t exactly prying on their conversation.
“Oooh. In’t this luvly?”
“Tis, tis.”
“Don’t got this beck ‘ome, eh?”
“Uh, uh”
…
…
“Ow’s ya sista?”
“Still clerkin.”
“That’s noice”
“An dozen’t she got a son?”
“Jason. He’s at the uni now, ya know?”
“Oooh. That’s noice.”
“What’s he stoodyin?”
“Harold. . . . HAROLD. What was it Jason’s doin’ at the uni?”
“Itchyology (Ichthyology)”
“Itchyology? Like scratchin’ stuff?”
“No. It’s about fishin”
“Fishin? Why don’t they call it fisheology?”
“Don’t know”
“Wish e’d stoody the rash. I get it bad on me bum, ya know, ever time I take a bath.”
“E wears a lab coat and all that. Don’t know where he got the brains. Not from me.”
. . . .
. . . .
And then, at what seemed to be the perfect moment for John Cleese to step in and announce, “And now for something completely different,” my phone rang. I had to leave. No way of knowing how this all ended, but I wish Jason the best.
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