Midlands moments 2: The Jolly Proprietress.

I was sitting in the lounge at the hotel I mentioned a couple of posts ago (about 18 years ago, you remember? Before I got a bit busy? Then, anyway) trying to get hold of whatever internet happened to be floating around the room. Occasionally I would snatch enough to half open the web page I needed, before the mysterious little wisp othe web flew off somewhere else and crashed the page leaving me swearing under my breath and pounding the keyboard.

The sun was shining outside. I had an hour of work to do before I could go out, and at this point had been trying to start doing it for four hours.

The jolly proprietress of the hotel popped through the guest lounge on her way to hoover the chickens, or something else country-house-hotel-ish. In the time it took her to cross from the main door of the room to the patio doors we had managed to get from the weather to:

– What training course these several people staying at her hotel were at. As that included My Beloved, I was in a position to tell her. I did, though I think I got about two words in when she stopped listening. The second word was internet, however, so it probably serves me right.

– Whether my husband (nope) had left me his credit card so I could go shopping while he was at his training course.

– Where I would be able to find the nearest shopping mall if I wanted to use that.

And then she was gone. And I was left wondering if I should have made more objection. Or said something witty or dismissive like Sorry, is this Derbyshire, or the 1950s?

But I didnt. I didnt say much, really, except a couple of friendly mmf noises, a polite laugh combined with a mention of having some work to do before hitting the shops and a mumbled addenda that if I was going shopping and had to take a credit card it would probably be my own.

I could of then gone into how I feel about credit cards and why I dont have any, but frankly, it seemed that anything I tried to say that was outside the expected bounds of polite conversation would be too much, and besides…

There was this remote chance that if I just smiled and bantered politely, the country house hotel might smile upon me for my social and suddenly deliver me with a shedload of usable internet so I could finish – or even start – my work.

It didnt.
But, you know, theres no harm in trying.