Our car was in the garage for over a week having a new gearbox fitted. The guy who runs the garage is a lovely chap. I’d say mid 50s, very chatty.
When I went to pick the car up he insisted on showing me the old gearbox in all it’s gutted glory to be fair he could have been showing me anything then took me over to his desk. As I was whipping my cheque book out, he turned to get the invoice and my eyes fell on his calendar.
I was faced with Miss November who was totally naked and gripping a length of rope on a sandy beach. She was smiling and displaying her boobs and beaver for all to see … and it was ALL I could see. I remember thinking that she took good care of her ladygarden and made a mental note to tend to my own shrubbery at my earliest convenience.
He presented me with the invoice and I tried not to shout “HOW FUCKING MUCH?” As I was writing in my cheque book thankfully having somewhere to avert my eyes he started chatting …
Him : So how are you two?
Me : Who?
Him : You and the husband?
Me : Fine thanks
Him : He told me he’d lost his job (I suddenly went into emergency mode … had the husband lied about his job to see if he could get Mr Mechanic to lower his price? I decided to play along)
Me : Oh, yeah? It’s been hard. Difficult times. Who should I make the cheque payable to?
Him : ‘Mr Mechanic’ please. Oh I hope everything works out for you.
Me : Thanks.
Him : God bless you.
Me : Yeah, um and you, thanks.
I got in my car with Miss November’s beaver burnt on my retina wondering what on earth the husband had been telling Mr Mechanic.
When I got home it turned out that the husband was as confused as me.
Next time, because with our luck there will inevitably be a next time, I shall send the husband to pick up the car. He will be far more appreciative of the boobs and beaver calendar.
It did give me an idea though. The husband is particularly bad at double booking our social life. We have a beautiful Charlie & Lola family planner type calendar which I religiously fill in for the whole family. He really takes no notice and then spends his time rearranging things and looking at me as if it’s all my fault.
Perhaps I should make my own 2010 calendar to encourage him. TOTALLY naked; clutching the iron, berating the children, holding a baking tray with fish fingers and chips, picking up dog poo, loading the dishwasher and making the 3 year old’s packed lunch.