I spent two hours in there and then in the museum shop I encountered a typical meist. She was, she said, a retired teacher and as a regular museum volunteer she pretty much ran the shop. I was looking for little gifts for Phoebe and Margot but the meist woman had other ideas. Me, me, me, my son, my work, my daughter, me, me, me - what I think about this, what I think about that. AAAAARRRGGHHH!
I just wanted to say, "Shut the f*** up! I want to have a look round the shop!" Fortunately, after about ten minutes of the one-sided torture, a young father appeared with his little girl and the meist spotlight turned upon him. I grabbed a small police notebook for Phoebe and a little replica lifeboat that Margot could sail in her bath and then I scarpered before that silver-haired torturer could claw me again.
By the way, it turned out she was never a teacher after all. She was a teaching assistant for a mere four years before she retired and yet that didn't stop her from spouting off about schools and education to a trapped listener who had been an actual teacher for thirty seven years - fifteen of those years as a hardworking Head of English. She did not want to know as this would have stalled her gushing meist narrative.
After leaving. Up through Paradise Square, across Campo Lane and along St James's Row, past the cathedral. I crossed High Street and cut through George Street before catching a Number 88 bus home.
from Yorkshire Pudding https://ift.tt/7SK5dRk
