Chopped Liver – London’s Bummin’

A lovely afternoon was spent today with Weedy’s Uncle and Auntie in Kenwood – part of the sprawling green area of north-west London known as ‘ampstead ‘eath.

Amongst other things we discussed were what should be done about my mum – who’s long-term partner, confidant, DEPENDANT, and, of course, devoted husband passed away earlier this year. Arguments for bringing her down to London were not thought to be in anyone’s best interests – but I don’t think we’ve heard the last of that particluar discussion.

Far better in the short term, to come up with suggestions as to possible interests for her to take up in the area she has lived in for the past 30-odd years. We can’t possibly be the first ones to be faced with this conumdrum – but it sure does feel like it.

Spot The Bum

Anyway, after we said our goodbyes, B, Weedy and moi headed up a wee hill to a spectacular viewpoint of the London skyline. Now Weedy was in his element. He loves all things London. All things geographic. And all things related to famous buildings.

And lo – a bronze bench-like graphical template type thingy with all the visible building names engraved on it – to enable the onlooker to identify each famous building. Fantastic.

I say “bench-like”. What I mean is it was um… like a.. em broad sort of slab thing raised quite high – with the engravings on it. So, “bench-like” – but, most definitely not “BENCH”.

A fact evidently lost on the bloke sitting on it to one side.

So we started reading it, and Weedy started from the right, naming each building and pointing it out to us. Except – well, after a while, he reached the bloke’s bottom – still perched high on the eh, benc chart – and we waited.

And waited.

And wiated.

Until… Weedy announced. “I cant see any more names because that man is sitting on them!”

Sometimes a child should be both seen and heard. Sometimes one needs a child to shout out what everyone else is thinking.

But did it do any good?

No it bleedin’ did not. The bloke simply did not shift his ass.

Weedy tried a few more times – but it was all in vain – the bloke’s bum was well and truly covering a significant portion of London – and neither B nor myself had the heart to point out to the least considerate man in the world that he really should shift his ass – after all, us Brits, y’know – not keen on confrontation.

Now there… are 3…. steps to… carry a donor card – ooh, wap wap!
Just follow steps 1, 2 and 3.

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