There was this incident.
It's a long time ago and I suppose one shouldn't bear a grudge but, nevertheless, there was this incident. I was in my late teens and on the bus on the way home from school. My friend Pete was with me. As was my habit at the time I was sucking on a glacier mint. We had boarded the stop, as usual, at the end of Cumberland Road. Two stops later, at Bilston Clinic, Pete's nephew got on the bus. When he saw me eating he asked me for a sweet. Of course, given our local dialect what he actually said was probably, "giza suck" - something that could well be misconstrued nowadays but an innocent enough remark round here meaning nothing more than "please give me a sweet" (That's "please give me candy" if you are American).
Pete instantly chimed in with "he can't, he only ever carries one in case he gets mugged".
It was so unfair, and so untrue. In the first place I always started the day with two - one for going to school and one for going home. And apart from that the reason that I carried so few was that I liked them and if I'd carried six I'd have eaten six. If I carried six whole bags I'd have eaten them all too.
I've never forgiven him for such a calculatedly offensive remark.
I haven't eaten a glacier mint for years now but I think I may buy a bag on the way home. At two a day they should last me a month or so of journeys too and from work and that's quite enough nostalgia for anyone.
2 comments:
I enjoy when you include little dialect-y bits. What makes you like these sweets above others?
I don't know that I do like them above others. It's just that they were the ones I always had when I was at school.
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