Barking up the wrong tree

I’ve been too focused on other things in Cambridge to sort out my bike, which has been stationed at the office since March. I must remember to cadge a pump from a friend. It meant that to reach my old pal Michelle’s place I had to luxuriate in a taxi. Although relax I did not as the driver was a chatty type, not receptive to hints that I wanted to bask in silence after a day at work spending little time not talking.

‘Do you want me to tell you how many DVDs I’ve got?

Me: ‘1,000.’

‘14,627 DVDs. 1,300 on Blu-ray. Do you think the weather has anything to do with the screen on my phone tipping? Big storm coming this way. Then it’s blue sky. Mind you that don’t mean nothin’. One minute it’s blue, the next minute it’s gone black. Fish and chips. Mmm. Can you smell that? I can. Fish and chips. Got a good nose for food. What films do you watch then?

Me: ‘Travel.’

‘Oh yeah? Like Scotland stuff like that. Ireland, Cornwall stuff like that. I like a good action film. Sylvester Stallone. Chuck Norris. Bruce Lee. May have to get a boxset. I think it’s alright having a TV if you wanna watch soaps. I ain’t interested in soaps anyway. When I drop you off I’ll nip home let the dog out. He’s a German Shepherd the size of a Jack Russell.’

<driver is so engrossed in verbal diarrhoea that he overshoots Michelle’s street until I point it out>

‘Yeah back there? I saw it don’t worry. Nothing behind us.’

Thank goodness Michelle took me out for a peaceful walk in the countryside with her rescue dog Jenny, followed by some spicy chicken wings.