The View from Parson Street Nose
By PARSONSTNOSE | Thursday, September 20, 2012, 08:32
I thought I was seeing things as I drew to a halt at the pelican crossing just before Little Paradise, for perched by two ladies on the kerb was a pretty little tabby cat. As soon as the green man flashed the ladies strode out and the cat bipped neatly over the crossing, carrying on his journey with a jaunty wiggle of his tail.
So entranced was I by the enterprising kitty I forgot to move off when the amber lights flashed. But the kindly Wally-waggon behind me soon brought me back to earth with a series of impatient blasts on his horn.
I was examining some pink and burgundy Wellingtons in Lidl when an ear-splitting shriek made me drop the boots onto the floor. By the time I'd recovered my composure, the wailing woman was thrashing the air-space around her but try hard as I might I couldn't see what she was trying to swat.
"What's up with you now?" A short fellow in a suede-fronted cardigan appeared. "Not another Daddy-long legs?" he commented dryly. "Or is it invisible bats this time?"
She lashed out again and he narrowly avoiding receiving a hefty whack on the noggin.
"Moth! moth!" howled his wife, rending her hair-doo. "Get it away from me!"
"For heaven's sake," said her husband. "It's just a moth. What's the worst it can do? − bite holes in your trousers?"
"Oh, shut up," she sobbed, licking her hand and plastering her fringe back into position. "You knows I'm scared of beasties."
I spotted the moth myself a little later. It was in the crisp section fluttering towards the exit and I wondered what he'd come in for – perhaps a little nibble on the socks?
"I'm going straight to the bargain rack."
Sighing, I followed Skipper's scurrying form as he beetled away into Asda. I had to smile though when I found him hopping about in frustration behind a large woman blocking the entire rack as she delved into its depths.
"I fancy a nice bit of salmon," she called. Her husband, a real long-shanks of a fellow, didn't look impressed.
"I don't know why you even looks at that bit, Veronica," he said. "You knows you throws everything out if it even gets near the sell-by date."
"Oh," she cried, ignoring him. "They've got fish-sticks!"
"I'll give you ruddy fish-sticks if you don't get out of there!"
Longshanks lunged and grabbed a handful of her t-shirt. Unfortunately this was right at the moment Veronica reached for the top shelf. Caught off-balance she hit the chiller-cabinet with the force of a wrecking ball, the thud echoed off the ceiling lights and for a moment the entire structure seemed to shudder.
"Come on, my little Godzilla," said Longshanks tenderly extracting his crumpled wife from the reduced rack, "let's go and get you a nice cappuccino, shall we?"
I turned back to Skipper only to discover all that was visible of my husband was his corduroy derriere as he ferreted around in the cold meats.