The Bird I Felt Sorry For...


by Helen Rowe - Date: 2007-04-19 - Word Count: 676 Share This!

Working with the public, as I have written before is unpredictable, frustrating and often amusing. There is another element that is far more dangerous, no matter what precautions you take you are dealing with the unknown. On a good day I think of it like an actor would the stage scenery, never knowing if it is going to move or collapse on them! On a bad day I see myself as a stuntman needing good insurance and danger money.

The situations I get myself into are funny afterwards but often it is the reaction of those with me that make them hilarious. Like the couple that I showed an old farmhouse to, looking at the wooden beams we talked of the method of construction of the floors. Whilst he assessed and prodded the beams, I went upstairs to open the shutters. Within seconds I was standing downstairs next to him. Covered in plaster dust, I had come down the quick way through the ceiling to the side of him. Not a bit concerned about this fact, he brushed off his trousers complaining of the dust I had created and walked outside. As I locked up the house he moaned that he had not seen upstairs. I suggested that would not be a good idea, resisting asking him to close the shutter on his way down!

Driving can be almost suicidal. Last month a wrong turn lead me down a steep track towards the river, knowing instantly I was on the wrong road I had to continue along the rivers edge to find a turning space. Traveling not on a road but a walk way in the nature reserve, beautiful if on foot, but with the river a few inches to my left and high rocks to my right, my fears increased when water from the rocks formed a huge puddle in front of me. The wheels spun. I squeezed out of the passenger side and looked for greenery to place under the wheels, that and all the paper, magazines etc I had in the car enabled me to continue. Then the thought of ending the day in the water focused me to wind down both windows and remove my seat belt and coat (fear does heat one). A kilometer ahead I found a spot just wide enough to turn. The return journey was not eventful but the reaction of the clients as they waited on the main road for me was classic. "You need a 4x4". Smiling at them, I wondered if they manufactured one that floats.

Laughter is meant to be therapeutic, A young man showed me a pod he had pick up "What is this" "A carob from the tree over there" I replied. As his father approached he showed this to him saying. "Dad she said it was a carrot, do they grow on trees in Spain?" Dad's reply was what started the fit of laughter. "How should I know, anyway I don't like carrots". Laughing I missed my footing and to my colleague and client's amusement, I stumbled backwards over the terrace down some 3 metres of bushes. Bruised with ripped trousers I walked up the tractor path to where they stood staring, no reference to my fall only. "What were you laughing at?" Not smiling I said I forgot.

Finally, a female client small with a very high pitched voice was sitting behind me in the car. Already we had spent four hours in each others company. With the added problem of her having "champagne tastes and beer money". I was driving away from a small village, when on my windscreen a sparrow decided to commit suicide. From the back seat "murderer" was the cry. Un-nerved by her I stopped the car and asked her to explain the problem. "You murdered a living creature". Yes I said the bird is dead. Murder is premeditated. I have not driven around looking to kill a bird. Back in Tortosa I dropped her at her hotel and never saw her again. The poor bird I felt sorry for...


Related Tags: spain, tortosa

Your Article Search Directory : Find in Articles

© The article above is copyrighted by it's author. You're allowed to distribute this work according to the Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs license.
 

Recent articles in this category:



Most viewed articles in this category: