“It was like an adventure with Harry Potter,” said my client of a day trip she and her husband had been on as part of their Unicorn Holidays coach trip. Apparently, they’d ended up at the Dudley Limestone Caves and Tunnels.
“The only problem was the ratio of torches to people,” she added, as each party of six visitors was assigned one torch. “Ours was handed to a woman who gave it to her seven-year-old son. She had two children with her and I wouldn’t have minded so much if she’d given it to the older one, who was taller, but with such a small kid operating the only source of light, there were bound to be difficulties.”
She went on to explain that while the child did manage to illuminate the ground effectively, he was less aware of what was above his head.
My client’s husband added: “Imagine that one area of the ceiling is lower than the rest, then add in the factor of my height – six foot – and the failure of the light to reach above three foot six, and you won’t be surprised to hear that I head-butted the cave.”
“Caves don’t half echo,” added his wife. “I reckon the party a mile ahead must have heard him swearing.”
It seems that, while the gentleman in question appeared perfectly fine following his nasty bump, later events had led his wife to worry that more permanent, unseen damage had been done.
“We went back to the hotel, changed for dinner and had our meal. When we’d eaten, we retired to our room and he took his trousers off. That’s when I realised there might be a problem…”
I winced. I’ve heard enough about geriatric intimacy to know that it’s never easy listening.
“Guess what?” she asked.
“I daren’t,” I replied.
“He’d put his pants on back to front. See what I mean? It sounds like a small thing, but what if it gets bigger? Back-to-front pants today, no pants
tomorrow.”
I agreed it was a terrifying prospect and suggested they saw the GP.
Women are never wrong
I’m not one to shirk a challenge, but I think the one presented to me this week might be more than even I am prepared to take on.
I rang to tell a client that I had tickets for his holiday ready for collection. He thanked me then added, “I’d like you to book me and my girlfriend a holiday for next year.”
He paused. “Actually, it’s more of a honeymoon.” Another pause. “And if you could book the wedding in too, that’d be perfect.”
“Right,” I replied. “When are you thinking of?”
“I’ll leave that up to you,” he said.
“Anywhere in particular?” I said.
“Wherever you think. You know what she’s like. You’re a woman and, as she’s always telling me, women are never wrong.”
I can’t decide if he’s completely stupid or a genius, but I like his philosophy!