Posts Tagged strange
A pigeon, some wasps and a cup of coffee…please!
What do you get if you cross a black and white pigeon with two wasps and a mega-large americano? A cosmopolitan coffee experience in Portadown!
Whilst my trusty Rover 25 was getting a nice new pair of brakes I decided to do coffee and sermon prep in a pleasant non-threatening environment. After a 5 minute dander with my laptop strapped to my back I decided on the new “O’Brien’s”, just beside the church. After avoiding the unfortunately placed dog poo at the front door I wandered inside and over to the counter. I ordered a large americano and fumbled in my pocket for a couple of pound coins. Something moved, behind the big red sofa to my right. I glanced at the girl behind the counter and she shot me a nervous, slightly flustered, glance back. Eventually a black and white pigeon tottered out from behind the sofa. “Do you know there’s a pigeon in here” I said helpfully. “Yeah” she said with a sigh “we’ve been trying to get him out all morning”. I took my coffee to the other side of the cafe and opened my laptop. Apparently it takes 2 O’brien’s workers, half a loaf of bread and 25 minutes to tease a pigeon out of a coffee shop. It only takes one ministry student and a second-hand newspaper to kill two wasps.
1 comment August 9, 2008
Beards
If beard growing became a national sporting activity, I strongly suspect that the organisers would soon find themselves in the High Court amidst accusations of sexism, and ageism. It is true to say that hair is a fussy commodity which only grows on the chins certain specimens. Those challenged in this way include; babies, pre-pubescent boys and pre-menopausal women. Everyone else sprouts hair freely.
I do not fall into any of the above categories yet I am beardless. Why? Because I choose to be. I make an effort, spend money and take time to be able to unashamedly call myself a beardless man. Don’t be fooled with phrases such as “I’m thinking of growing a beard” or “I’m trying to grow a beard” or “It took me ages to grow this beard”, because essentially anyone who has a beard has only succeeded in one thing… doing nothing. Yes, a beard is the nasty side-effect of non-activity. Now I am aware that some of you may be donning a beard and perhaps even stroking it fondly as you read these words. So before I am accused of beardism, let me categorically state that I have no problem with your beard (or what you do with it). Just don’t expect me to congratulate you for gaining a growth on your face which, quite frankly, takes about as much effort as gathering dust in an empty house.
The top five “beardoes” - as voted by the British public - are: (in reverse order)
- B.A. Baracus - “Pity the fool”
- Papa Smurf
- Catweazle
- Uncle Albert
- Gandalf
- Hillary Clinton - This look didn’t really work out for you did it Hillary?!
4 comments July 15, 2008
Won Ton Soup
So it’s a blustery Tuesday night in a strange town. (Strange as in ‘unfamiliar’ not strange as in ‘hello-nice-to-meet-you-have-you-met-my-wife-who’s-also-my-sister!’). I have just spent 3 hours of my evening in a mildly interesting meeting. I spoke once at the meeting only to say thanks to the person on my left who picked up my pen from the floor. I accidently dropped it and it had landed under my seat out of my eye range. I kept bending down to find it, then shifting position and bending down again, achieving nothing except a very red face. The person to my left – who had been equally silent – reached down with little effort and returned it to my possession. I muttered ‘thanks’ whilst raising my eyebrows slightly for some unknown reason. Not only was I the only mute in the room but I now had a beetroot coloured face and appeared to be hitting on the middle-aged pen-finding lady on my left.
By 11pm I needed a drink! I couldn’t have a drink so instead I decided to treat myself to a Chinese take-away – hence being in a strange town on a blustery Tuesday night.
The pleasant Chinese lady behind the counter asked me if I was ready to order. I was, on one condition: “Is your honey, chilli chicken sticky and crispy?” The answer was affirmative so I ordered.
“Anything else?” she replied.
“Emm, yes can I also have one tin?” This is where it all went wrong.
“Wonton?”
“eh..” I laughed nervously “no…sorry, just one tin of coke”
“Ok so it’s a honey and chilli chicken with chips, wonton soup and a coke, that’ll be £9.25 please”
“Em, actually I was saying ‘one tin’ not ‘wonton’. I just want one tin… of coke”
Slight hesitation
“Yes that is all right” said the server with her unflustered smile, “that’s £9.25”
I gave her a tenner and she gave me 75p.
I got home, ate my honey and chilli chicken, drank my coke and poured my wonton down the toilet.
By 12.25am I still needed a drink!
2 comments June 25, 2008
