From Donald.
18-01-10

I was referring today, to my 25 year old daughter, to a new service call I got, some years ago, to a detached house in a rural area. When I got there I was surprised to find that unlike any of the other places I'd passed, it was an ancient wooden bungalow, covered in matt and flaking green paint. I knocked on the door and I heard a man's voice say "Answer the door!" The lady of the house speedily did so and gave me a polite smile. I saw that she was old and thin, and dressed in long and dull clothes. She led me into the front room where the master of the house was sat in an old grandfather chair. He too was very thin, and, like the lady there, he was ancient.
I made a bit of light conversation as I fixed the set, and speedily found that the chap was Welsh, humourless and flinty. An ultra-religious chapel pair, I guessed. As I worked he stayed put, issuing commands to the lady. 'Put the light on for the
gentleman!' 'Open the curtains fully so he can see!' She speedily
obeyed at once, without a word.
I remarked that he certainly lived in a rural spot, and he replied 'Nothing like our home in Wales, at the top of a moun-tain. We didn't even 'ave a proper road to the 'ouse!'
When I'd fixed the set he commanded the lady to fetch his purse from a drawer. The purse was in his hand within 5 seconds. He paid me, and I left. As I passed through the door the lady followed me, pulled the door close behind her, grabbed my coat lapel and stared into my eyes. 'I'm not his wife!' she said, hoarsely and quietly. 'I'm his daughter!'
I found myself saying 'Oh - er - Right!' Er... Right!' Then I
walked briskly down the path. She was still there as I closed the gate.
As I drove home I wondered what it was all about. Perhaps I wasn't quite as worldly then as I might have been...

Don.