Bogri, Malcolm And The Summer Weekend
Just like an 'aunted 'ouse. I was frit to knock the door.
We were reminiscing in the pub the other night, remembering last summer's rides while it peed it down outside. One of the best things about a good trip is talking about it.
"Remember that run we made into the Yorkshire Dales at the start of the draught?" I asked.
"Yeah," answered Malcolm, "Warmed up on the Six Hills road and screwed it on up by Clumber Park. You on yer Vin & me on the 'borrowed' Kwaka."
"Breakfast on the A1 and turned off near Ripon and wound on all the way across to Kendal then back into the hills for lunch," I added.
"At that little pub" recalled Malcolm "where they poured the gravy into a hole in the top of the pies and the beer was called Old Particular." he took another swig of his bitter shandy to compare the taste with his memory.
"Old Peculiar" I reminded him. "You was three sheets to the wind when we were thrown out, took the corners all the better for it."
"Loosened me up, Bogri. And the air warm and soft. Remember where we stopped again in that dale when we cooled our feet in a beck?"
"Yeah, and all the fish floating belly up after you dipped your feet in. Then after a snooze, up into the cooler air on the moors, with another stop high in the middle of nowhere."
"We played the locals on that funny dart board and I laid off the booze before the ride home."
"It was cold and damp and dark when we came out and gunned for home."
We ordered some more beer and sat thinking of that evening, almost a year ago, one of the brighter spots in a hard life of no money and not enough time to waste.
"Ten miles out of the pub up that worm of a road and you ran outa petrol, Malcolm."
"Someone must have siphoned the tanks, Bogri. You ran out as well two miles later when we were on our way for a can."
"Yeah, right outside that old stone cottage."
"Just like an 'aunted 'ouse." whispered Malcolm, with his eyes wide. "I was frit to knock the door."
"So I knocked"
"And we saw the lamp flickering and the door creaked open and that woman stood there in a night-dress." Malcolm's eyes lit up.
"She was going to set the dog on us 'til I explained our situation. Must have thought we were a right pair."
"It was me sweet talking her what got us in Bogri, I am irresistible to the opposite sex."
"It must have been your clean feet she could smell."
"Well, she offered us supper and bed for the night. And that supper was OK the way she spread it about. The food was good and plentiful too."
"I think you took unfair advantage of her. You know damn well she was an old maid. Probably been looking for us under her bed for twenty years. Getting her going with your tales of hells angels and obscene tricks with old ladies."
"She lapped it up. We'd have been talking all night if you hadn't kept nodding off."
"I was glad to get my head down after that Old Peculiar. Good job we weren't riding that night." I watched Malcolm closely but if his mind does work it certainly doesn't show.
"You've got no stamina" he sneered.
"Malcolm," I asked "did you get up in the night?"
"Yes" he answered deadpan.
"And did you visit the lady's bedroom?" I enquired delicately.
"I was looking for the bog. I didn't know it was her room 'til I fell over the bed. Of course it woke her up, me falling all over her. But she was quite good about it."
"Malcolm you lecherous baboon, you spent the night with her didn't you?" I accused him.
"So what, she was pantin' for it. Couldn't get enough. All right in the dark you know. Older women have got a lot of class and I bet she really appreciated a bloke with my stamina. Bloody near killed me........." he was about to go into the lurid details, embellished with his imagination and what he'd read in Forum.
"Malcolm you snotty pimp, you gave her my bloody name and address, didn't you!"
"Er, well, I can't remember. Maybe I did. I mean, it was the first thing that came into my head." Malcolm was definitely getting edgy.
"Well, you stupid idiot, you dropped a proper clanger didn't you!" I roared.
Malcolm shrank back into his leather jacket. "Why?" he sniggered "What's happened? What have you heard Bogri?"
"I got a solicitor's letter today, you miserable little toad. The old lady died and left me a thousand pounds in her will!"