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Authors: Brian Robertson, Ron Smallwood
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he had worked with and strange passenger behaviour—he was never short of a story. He had flown the world over and despite the walking aid he now required, he was still driving his car. Car driving posed Bob no problem even at 92 years.
“Driving a modern car is easy, particularly if your previous mode of transport was a Boeing 747,” he would tell the assembled men. “In fact if it wasn’t for the parking around the village I’d rather have the 747!”
On another occasion, a dinner night at the village leisure centre, all the residents had enjoyed a great meal. Most had imbibed a little more than they should have, including Bob. The post dinner entertainment was excellent and organised by Alex, the caretaker, who often fulfilled this role. He would act as master of ceremonies, organise the music and dancing and generally make a fool of himself along with a few willing villagers. One such lady who loved dancing, who was never too shy to be a part of the cabaret and who was always willing to say her piece, was Bella.
This night a great time was being had by all. Bella and Alex had the microphone and were entertaining the last of the company but Bob had told one story too many and so Jennifer decided it was time to go home. They only lived across the road from the leisure centre but for some reason Bob had driven from their house to the centre for the meal and he insisted on driving back again.
Farewells were said. “Good night Bob—drive carefully—don’t go knocking on anyone else’s door—see you again soon.” Hands were shaken and hugs were given and received as friends parted temporarily, until the next social occasion.
The hubbub had slowed as Bob and his wife left. It had just returned to normal volume when there was a most almighty crash combined with the unmistakable sounds of breaking glass. Heads turned and eyes focussed as one! Bob and Jennifer were back at the party—still in the car, having come straight through the plate glass window!
“What the f**k!” Bella shouted, in the deathly hush that followed, straight into the very efficient microphone.
As the dust settled, Jennifer and Bob could be seen sitting bolt upright in the front seats, looking very surprised, but otherwise unhurt. Luckily everyone was sitting well away from the full-length window looking out onto the car park.
This never to be forgotten night was, unfortunately the end of Bob’s driving career—747 experience notwithstanding—Jennifer insisted. And of course the story was accepted into the repertoire of all the men present, to be known always as ‘Bob’s return to the party.’
The next day Alex was cleaning up broken glass both outside and inside the leisure centre when Emily appeared and as he always did, Alex stopped to greet her. Emily, was a very gentle and refined lady who tended to keep herself to herself.
“Wasn’t that just terrible last night then—I heard all about it, just shocking!” said Emily before Alex could say anything.
“Yes, true, but the good news is that the insurance will pay for the window and most important of all, no one was hurt.”
“No, no, not that,” said Emily. “The mouth on that woman!”
Bob’s Return to the Party
Everyone loves a humorous story
Some not always bathed in glory
Bad driving was not Bob’s intention
Colourful language we will not mention
Just broken glass but nothing gory
The Locum
Helga was determined to take two weeks leave. She just had to get a break very soon. In addition to the normal management of the village, the rain had been so intense lately that trees had been coming down. What with that, and managing Gabriel’s natural exuberance—that had now returned in full since the Environment, Health and Safety audit, Helga was desperate to get away. But no matter how much she hoped, she was no nearer to getting a locum who was suitable.
“I could certainly do this job for you while you’re away,” Gabriel had volunteered.
“Well
“Driving a modern car is easy, particularly if your previous mode of transport was a Boeing 747,” he would tell the assembled men. “In fact if it wasn’t for the parking around the village I’d rather have the 747!”
On another occasion, a dinner night at the village leisure centre, all the residents had enjoyed a great meal. Most had imbibed a little more than they should have, including Bob. The post dinner entertainment was excellent and organised by Alex, the caretaker, who often fulfilled this role. He would act as master of ceremonies, organise the music and dancing and generally make a fool of himself along with a few willing villagers. One such lady who loved dancing, who was never too shy to be a part of the cabaret and who was always willing to say her piece, was Bella.
This night a great time was being had by all. Bella and Alex had the microphone and were entertaining the last of the company but Bob had told one story too many and so Jennifer decided it was time to go home. They only lived across the road from the leisure centre but for some reason Bob had driven from their house to the centre for the meal and he insisted on driving back again.
Farewells were said. “Good night Bob—drive carefully—don’t go knocking on anyone else’s door—see you again soon.” Hands were shaken and hugs were given and received as friends parted temporarily, until the next social occasion.
The hubbub had slowed as Bob and his wife left. It had just returned to normal volume when there was a most almighty crash combined with the unmistakable sounds of breaking glass. Heads turned and eyes focussed as one! Bob and Jennifer were back at the party—still in the car, having come straight through the plate glass window!
“What the f**k!” Bella shouted, in the deathly hush that followed, straight into the very efficient microphone.
As the dust settled, Jennifer and Bob could be seen sitting bolt upright in the front seats, looking very surprised, but otherwise unhurt. Luckily everyone was sitting well away from the full-length window looking out onto the car park.
This never to be forgotten night was, unfortunately the end of Bob’s driving career—747 experience notwithstanding—Jennifer insisted. And of course the story was accepted into the repertoire of all the men present, to be known always as ‘Bob’s return to the party.’
The next day Alex was cleaning up broken glass both outside and inside the leisure centre when Emily appeared and as he always did, Alex stopped to greet her. Emily, was a very gentle and refined lady who tended to keep herself to herself.
“Wasn’t that just terrible last night then—I heard all about it, just shocking!” said Emily before Alex could say anything.
“Yes, true, but the good news is that the insurance will pay for the window and most important of all, no one was hurt.”
“No, no, not that,” said Emily. “The mouth on that woman!”
Bob’s Return to the Party
Everyone loves a humorous story
Some not always bathed in glory
Bad driving was not Bob’s intention
Colourful language we will not mention
Just broken glass but nothing gory
The Locum
Helga was determined to take two weeks leave. She just had to get a break very soon. In addition to the normal management of the village, the rain had been so intense lately that trees had been coming down. What with that, and managing Gabriel’s natural exuberance—that had now returned in full since the Environment, Health and Safety audit, Helga was desperate to get away. But no matter how much she hoped, she was no nearer to getting a locum who was suitable.
“I could certainly do this job for you while you’re away,” Gabriel had volunteered.
“Well
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