erithacus' saga: offering from equine present-giver gratefully accepted
“I’ve got to go and pick Gandalf up,” said Mary.
“I’ll come with you,” I offered.
“He’s at a party on the other side of town. There’ll be lots of kids and parents. I don’t think it’ll be much fun for you,” she said dissuasively, taking the decision for me.
“I’ll call you,” continued Mary tenderly, forgetting my shed wasn’t connected to the phone network. Perhaps she was a homing pigeon enthusiast. We kissed softly on the lips one last time and I turned to go back through the park.
___________
I removed the balloon-motif wrapping paper and looked at the gift. It was a mobile phone. On the front of the box was a picture of a seemingly carefree young woman talking into a small apparatus she was holding to her ear.
“I can call you now,” said Mary.
“I don’t know what to say, I said, saying something. “How did you know it was my birthday?” I asked.
“Is it really?” she said astounded.
“Course not,” I said bashfully, embarrassed at taking her in so easily.
I opened the box, took out the small plastic phone and examined its plastic newness and surprising weightiness. I felt important now that I owned a device that symbolised communication and I had a person to call. First, however, the instruction manual and the sleeping sickness-like reaction entailed in reading it would have to be tackled. Much harder tasks such as striking flints to light fires or carving out canoes from tree trunks required not instruction manuals but observation of other people’s skill.
Nevertheless, a strong desire not to be separated from Mary outweighed manualitis and the hurdle was overcome forthwith. I mastered the phone in no time and was soon able to assign irritating electronic personal favourites to hail incoming calls.
“What’s your number? I asked Mary and as she told me I nimbly fingered in the digits in real time.
“I’ll come with you,” I offered.
“He’s at a party on the other side of town. There’ll be lots of kids and parents. I don’t think it’ll be much fun for you,” she said dissuasively, taking the decision for me.
“I’ll call you,” continued Mary tenderly, forgetting my shed wasn’t connected to the phone network. Perhaps she was a homing pigeon enthusiast. We kissed softly on the lips one last time and I turned to go back through the park.
___________
I removed the balloon-motif wrapping paper and looked at the gift. It was a mobile phone. On the front of the box was a picture of a seemingly carefree young woman talking into a small apparatus she was holding to her ear.
“I can call you now,” said Mary.
“I don’t know what to say, I said, saying something. “How did you know it was my birthday?” I asked.
“Is it really?” she said astounded.
“Course not,” I said bashfully, embarrassed at taking her in so easily.
I opened the box, took out the small plastic phone and examined its plastic newness and surprising weightiness. I felt important now that I owned a device that symbolised communication and I had a person to call. First, however, the instruction manual and the sleeping sickness-like reaction entailed in reading it would have to be tackled. Much harder tasks such as striking flints to light fires or carving out canoes from tree trunks required not instruction manuals but observation of other people’s skill.
Nevertheless, a strong desire not to be separated from Mary outweighed manualitis and the hurdle was overcome forthwith. I mastered the phone in no time and was soon able to assign irritating electronic personal favourites to hail incoming calls.
“What’s your number? I asked Mary and as she told me I nimbly fingered in the digits in real time.
posted by Bob @ 12:41 pm
2 Comments:
At 4:32 am,
Malcolm said…
If you are a native Spanish-speaker, your writing is remarkably sensitive to the ways of English. I'm so curious! Perhaps English is really your native language.
apropos of nothing much, do you know that Joseph Conrad, whose English style is, or was, a model for other writers, often pronounced English words weirdly as he had never heard them before, only read them!
At 11:02 am,
Bob said…
Malcolm - My mother tongue is English so perhaps the writing is not so sensitive. However, I do think it is affected by the Spanish/Catalan language environment in which I have lived for the last 17 years. Sometimes we speak three languages at home and a phrase may contain words from all three.
It can also provide for a lot of fun and creativity with language - like Conrad.
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