The View from Parson Street Nose

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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.



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