Not Quite By the Pen

 

A novelist would take advantage of a wedding to place an unattached man with an unattached woman of a similar age and interests.

There was one such chap who was a guest at the Polish wedding, and for my sins I was the unattached woman of similar age and interests.

Prior to the coach trip from Krakow to the village where the wedding was to be held I had not realised that this chap was unattached, and had chatted to him in the hotel reception area thinking him to be one of the husbands in the extended family.

This chap though had been under no such similar delusion. He had worked out that I was travelling solo.

Before too long as if he was a squiggle of ink from a romantic novelist’s pen I discovered him pooling by my side.

Fiction is so unbelievable. No one would credit a story in a book where a woman travelled over 900 miles to the east and then met someone who lived only a few miles away from her home back home, but this was indeed the facts of the case.

As all heroes should The Chap quickly found all sorts of things we had in common, and said kind things about my home town.

However, as we boarded the coach for the onward journey  The Chap shielded me protectively with his hands. The others sat with their partners, and I suddenly realised that The Chap was now staking a claim upon me. This was done in such a proprietarily way that I felt suddenly very uneasy. The novelist’s pen was slipping for this act of chivalry being more like staking ownership; and I did not like for one second being made to feel that I was now someone else’s possession. Thankfully, my friend abandoned her husband to sit by my side. she was unaware of the novelist’s penmanship she had chosen to sit next to me so that I could entertain her and prevent her from feeling  travel sick.

Such are my unsung uses!

When I finally stepped off the bus I sensed The Chap expected me to walk by his side. This was unnerving as I’m so used to having the freedom to wander hither and thither as I so choose and I’m not used at all to being so corralled to such an orbit.

Later at the reception I discovered to my dismay that The Chap had been seated directly opposite me and I so wished that I could exchange his card with someone else’s, but even though the placing of the name cards was my responsibility i did not dare change the seating plan.

In a romantic novel the champagne and wine would have been followed by dancing and in the next chapter that is exactly what happened. He dragged me off to dance.

Neither he nor the novelist knew that I had not danced for many, many years and that when I have danced it had always been alone.

Still politeness meant that when I was asked to dance I acceded with good grace and a smile and allowed him to take me to the floor. I’m unused to being held but gamely I held his hands as I listened to the rhythm of the band in order to catch the beat.

“Okay, you lead then!” he sneered, after I took a few steps.

Shocked, I apologised and tried to amend my forward ways; unluckily the dance was a slow one. I found I did not want to look at him at all and averted my face.

This would not have happened in a romantic novel. The music would have been perfect and the pair would not have been able to help gazing into each other’s eyes.

Dispirited, I returned to the table.

When next he tried to grab my hand and attempted to drag me off for a second dance, I politely declined.

What he didn’t know was that I was suffering from oedema. My feet had swollen up like balloons following the air flight and a multitude of coach journeys. No novelist would have given her heroine this condition. This poor Chap was not to know that oedema combined with the too tight dressy shoes had made the last dance absolute agony.

Unhappily, The Chap did not give me any chance to explain this predicament; instead he went storming off in a huff.

I had spent much of that and every morning  with my legs up in the air, in an imitation of  a dying fly, hoping that gravity would sort out the problem. So after The Chap had left I decided to return to my hotel room in order to change my shoes to some that were far more sensible and comfortable.

I had been told that there was going to be quite some time between the various courses, so I cast off the painful shoes, changed out of my posh dress, put on my pyjamas and once again imitated a dying fly.

A little while later there was a knock on the door. A novelist would have had The Chap tapping gently on the door and then the romance would have escalated into something really rather special. That is if the heroine had actually liked The Chap.

When I opened the door to my surprise it was the groom’s father who told me that the next course had been served and that my vegetarian dish was on the table awaiting me and going cold.

Embarrassed at being caught in my pyjamas I redressed and rushing back downstairs, wearing the  flat sensible shoes, rejoined the diners.

The Chap was no longer sitting opposite me. It seemed that I had been gone for a quite some time for everyone had already finished this course and were chatting merrily.

The Chap was now sat at the far end of the table chatting to another woman, and I breathed a sigh of relief, already the tidy seating formations were breaking up.

Meanwhile, someone else borrowed The Chap’s empty chair, When The Chap finally did return to his original place he complained bitterly and loudly to all nearby that I had “… given away his chair!”

And then realised that the romantic novelist had had enough of me and was now intent upon blackening my character instead.

The Chap’s mood was not improved as the meals progressed. He accidently dropped salad into his glass of water. Then whilst reaching over the table for more meat caught his glass of water with his sleeve and knocked it over.

In a story, the hero would have laughed, would have been jolly about the accident, ruefully looking over his flooded half of the table and  smiling when the heroine helpfully offered him her serviette.

Instead The Chap was mortified by this accident. He refused my serviette, and instead testily demanded more serviettes from the waitress. This was done in the form of an entertaining mime as she didn’t speak any English and he didn’t speak any Polish.

Eventually, he had mopped his half of the table and more dishes of food and appeared, been eaten and then been taken away.

“Why are you smiling?” The Chap demanded crossly.

I hadn’t been aware that I had been smiling and realised that if I was then it was because I was happy for the newlyweds. However, from the tone of The Chap’s voice he’d obviously decided that my stray smile was because of his recent clumsiness. He had taken offense and was obviously affronted.

So alack and alas.

In a novel it would have worked. The Chap would have been a delight to talk to. He would have noticed my painful dancing shoes and insisted that I should wear his size twelve shoes instead.

Nay, he would have carried me up into the air to save my feet from even touching the ground.

He would have laughed at the spilled water and told me other tales about water he’d spilt. He would have been a fount of knowledge about ancient history and would have spoken in awe about the music from the like of Espers and the Howie Day. In short he would have been great fun to be with.

But alas, it was not to be.

But wasn’t it weird that he should have taken such umbrage with me when later another hugged me as if I was a long lost sister!

 

 

Crushed in the arms...
Crushed in the arms…
I was there

And I…

Crushed in the arms...
Crushed in the arms…

I must say…

I was there

And I

I must say

Crushed in the arms...
Crushed in the arms…

I must say

I was there

And I…

I must say

Crushed in the arms...
Crushed in the arms…

I must say…

I was there

And I must say…

Never could fall in love.
The feeling is such a thrill
Oh.. why don't you anger me,

Anger me, or will.
Oh... Why don't you anger me?

(crushed in the arms..)
Now I could never fall in love.

I must say

And feeling such a thirst there
Strangle me.

Strangle me

You want my strength.

Strangle me

I’ve a feeling you want my strength.

You live some time

You live some

You listen

You live some time

You live some

You listen

You leave some body

Yeah

You leave some

You listen

You leave some body

Yeah

You leave some

You listen

You leave some body

Yeah

You leave some

You listen

You leave some body

Yeah

You leave some

You listen

You leave some