I sat opposite a very well turned out, forty-something professional lady on the train to Leeds yesterday. She smiled politely at me and I formed an immediate opinion that she looked like a nice genteel individual.
Right until the moment she drank the dregs of her coffee, stood up and got off the train, leaving her disposable coffee cup, well, un-disposed, right there on the table! Why do people think they have a God-given right to leave litter, let someone else come along and sit with their used coffee cup in front of them and leave someone else to clear it away.
It is just me?
Probably.
Sorry, withdewrespect has been on a short holiday, coupled with a nasty chest infection and followed by, oh what's that thing I do again.....? Oh, that's right, work!
Also, Easter left me with far too much chocolate around the house so I've been on such a sugar high I couldn't string a sentence together. Well, OK, the kids were left with so many eggs that I hid six in a kitchen cupboard and have been steadily munching through them ever since. Whenever a child sneaks up and asks me what I'm eating, I smile sweetly and reply, 'an apple, do you want one'?
My holiday was to Portugal, as you know, once my country of residence. I returned with a friend who was also travelling with children to visit their father. Going towards the EU or Nothing to Declare exit choices on arrival at Porto Airport, my friend joked there should be a separate exit for International Divorcees. It would be a busy exit I can tell you!! And among those using it would be non-other than JK Rowling (and not a lot of people know that!).
On this trip we hired a car and ended up re-mortgaging both our houses thanks to the 'hidden extras' ( well, thanks to Groupon and affordablecarhire.com, NOT!)
Back in the days before I owned a car and the fantastic Metro do Porto was just a twinkle in a Transport Minister's eye, I was a regular on city's bus routes.
There was never a dull moment on the buses in the mid 90s I can tell you. Getting to empty seats was like a rampage scene from Jurrasic Park, jabbing elbows, right hooks and swinging handbags were commonplace in pursuit of an uncomfortable, wet and dirty blob of orange moulded plastic. Put it this way, seats were as rare as a smile in a Portuguese Post Office (JK knows what I'm talking about!).
It was a daily adventure, often more farcical than Sid James' trousers falling down or Barbara Windsor making a boob of herself.
One day, my newly-purchased Nokia house brick rang. I delved into my bag (as did everyone else!). One minute, I'm just a face in the crowd. I say, 'hello?', and I'm the daughter of Beelzebub!!!
Like a Wild West saloon when the baddie walks in, there's a deathly silence, everybody stares.
'Oh, hi mum, you OK.....yes I'm fine, just on the bus......'
Mothers gather up their babes in arms, children point, old ladies stare, men shuffle away. Lock up your daughters, there's an alien on the bus!
I'm the one they stare at!!! Opposite me a lady has two puppies in her shopping bag, behind me two women have set up a cottage industry, crocheting table cloths. (Is this some form of tax evasion, crocheting on a moving bus, like duty free on an airplane?). The man next to me retches, gargles and sends an expertly formed green globule of phlegm hurtling over my head and through the open window.
All this, everyone ignored. I say 'hello' and you'd have thought I'd stripped naked, pulled out a pair of maracas and started singing Viva Espana.
I hasten to add that I am firmly in favour of 'when in Rome' and worked tirelessly to learn the lingua. Even when I spoke near word-perfect Portuguese, I still had a noticeable (OK, dodgy) accent and grew to love the intrigued stares on the buses. Or maybe I just bought a car....memory doesn't serve me well.
The Portuguese language is notoriously difficult to master. Like all Latin languages, it's feminine this and masculine that, with no rhyme or reason, and there's more past and future tenses than you can shake a stick at. And, perhaps much like English (sun / son), there are many similar sounding words with completely different meanings.
I once walked into a shop with a runny nose and asked for a packet of bed sheets. (lencos = tissues / lencois = bed sheets)
(PS: I love Portugal and its people really and I was always, and still am, made to feel at home in the land and like one of the family among its people. The Portuguese are wonderful; every home should have one, mine does!!!!)
