I don’t mind working on a Bank Holiday. In this part of the world it is advisable to take time off when the rest of the country are elsewhere. It was sunny, I was at the wonderful Nancy Nightingale’s, and I finished just after lunch. An interesting day and, what is more, educational.
After a fine morning of singing/gardening followed by a little gardening/singing I toddled off to have my car washed. Yes, I paid someone to clean my car. Yes, I could have done it myself. No, it was never going to happen. At the weekend my big brother said to me “I can tell you are a gardener, you have moss on your number plate”. Not seeing this as a problem, I did admit that months of mud, seagull visitations and motorway driving had left the mean machine a little jaded. So I paid a full £6 for a nice chap to clean and polish. I blushed as I passed over the keys, “sorry, it is very dirty”, “Don’t worry” he assured me “that is what we do, we clean cars”. So I sat on a wooden picnic bench, surrounded by weeds and adjacent to a busy road, to eat my banana whilst surveying the petrol station scene, back to the table. In moments I sensed some company. Slowly I turned. Two young children, offspring I imagined of the car cleaners, had slunk into the other side of the table, smiling charmingly. Obviously I was terrified. “Do you like slime?” the girl asked. The small boy grinned. Even scarier. Not knowing what the answer should be, playing for time, I enquired “is that what you have in that pot?”. “Yes” and she removed the offending substance from its container and pulled and twisted and curled into shapes long and squat and rolled and stretched all the while smiling ominously. “Would you like to try?” Never once to pass up such an opportunity I took the purple goo from her hands. Once was enough. They laughed at my disgust.
Later, after bonding over the slime, the girl asked “what is the cleverest thing in the world?”. I suggested she ask her teacher and next time I am having my car cleaned, she could enlighten me. A deal was struck.
My car is unrecognisable. It is rather unnerving.