27 September 2008

Oh My God – She’s Killed Him….

After last Wednesday’s blog about the delightful Vanessa, she contacted me about another traumatic moment on one of our journeys to work which she encouraged me to share with you. How could I have forgotten it? 

Taking up the story…..a couple of years have passed since Vanessa has agreed to drive me into BT. The authorities have relented and have allowed me to drive again but as we got along so well (!!!!!!!) we decided to continue the arrangement, however by this time I was able to drive the short distance to Vanessa’s house saving her some time. I wanted a reduction in the agreed fee for this but ‘sod off’, I think, were the words she used. 

Also by this time I had been dumped by J a few years back which Vanessa thought strangely hilarious. I think the logic was along the lies of ‘men dump women, women don’t dump men’ but as I cried, even after all those years, she drove on through the daily grind of London traffic singing horrible songs to music played on that horrible radio station. I Fall Down by Chumumbamumba or something was a particular favourite of hers! 

And then one day, I got a call right out of the blue from J who was in France. She wanted to re-establish contact so I played it cool……. I got the next flight over. No I didn’t – that’s the sort of crap you get in romantic chick-lit. I said I would consider her offer of having contact carefully and so after a few weeks we started off by writing to each other and then after a few weeks more we started talking on the phone. It appeared she was in an unhappy marriage and wanted out but she didn’t see any signs of escape. I asked about cliffs, wells, cut brake cables, poison mushrooms, Hit Men and the like but she said she’d have to tough it out. 

Of course, I relayed all this to Vanessa each morning – anything to get away from listening to Capital Radio! Whilst quite sympathetic, she was concerned in case our emotions (J and mine) ran away with us and we did something stupid or even worse, sinister. 

A couple of days later I left to drive to Vanessa’s for the onward slog into London and as I left the house, I picked up my post. It was probably the usual junk mail from Saga, a letter of invitation to join my mates from the booze rehabilitation course at the local pub for a party, something from the residents association asking me to refrain from having too many loud parties and a letter from the local police asking me to ‘pop in for a chat’. Strangely, there was also a small package which was intriguing. I didn’t open any mail until after Vanessa and I had our morning row about lane changing, pensioners with caravans overtaking her on the inside lane, her choice of radio station etc etc. It was at Kensington when I, at last, managed to concentrate on the mail and, of course, the first item I opened was the small package which had a French stamp on it and which felt strangely soft to the touch. Was it a silk tie or some nice hankies ? Was it a pair of her unwashed silk knickers or even better a pair of her socks ? As I proceeded to undo the rather well wrapped gift, I became more and more excited and as the last layer came away, Vanessa looked over at that precise moment and there, staring us in the face was…………………………………a human liver! Vanessa screamed but she was always doing that so nothing untoward there but after I managed to wrestle the steering wheel away from her as she narrowly missed pedestrian after pedestrian, we stopped and looked in disbelief at the bloody, gory mess which was starting to make the car stink. We both thought the inevitable had happened. The worst possible outcome of this renewed acquaintance. Utterly aghast Vanessa suggested we go to the nearest police station but I said we shouldn’t be too hasty – after all there’s nothing better than a nice bit of liver and onions. 

During the day I managed to contact J to find out what she had done only to be informed that the package contained………………foie. Goose liver. A delicacy down in Nice. This was J’s way of showing her affection. I wondered what she’d have done if I’d upset her!   

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Tom is still not telling you of the time I did drive faster and undertook a lorry on the roundabout. He screamed like a five year old girl on a fair ground ride, and changed the passenger seat colour for ever!