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Sir Galahad was crushed. The Lady Lorraine had refused him, although he remembered the time, when her friend had not been so awkward. That was when in the guise of a small, portly middle-aged man he had stepped forward. ‘Give me your child,’ he had said, after she crawled thirty feet under a train to land a whack on said offspring’s behind, while  her other half and more obedient daughter lay on the platform in a state of shock, with the other assembled onlookers. ‘And you too Madam, give me your hand,’ he had bossily added. 

Since not giving hands had led to the unfortunate incident in the first place, Lady Lorraine’s friend had been happy to oblige.  Of course Sir Galahad regretted it. In addition to Lady Lorraine’s friend’s hair standing up on end and her tights being in tatters,  she was covered in oil from head to toe… there he was, wearing his very best suit. 

Sorry. Couldn’t resist going back to Sir Galahad. The city of York was ‘blessed’ by our presence last week. For the first time ever on holiday, nothing exciting happened, unlike the time with the train, or the plane, or the bus, or the goat, the frog, the cat, the horse, the woman on the window ledge at 3 in the morning, the bog – the sinking into variety,  although the other kind is within the frame, when it comes to things happening. I mean have you ever known anyone capable of flushing the loo plug down the loo? In Greece – a land little renowned for its plumbers. And not just Greece, the remote hinterland too, where one was lucky enough to have a loo, never mind a plug to flush it with.

‘Are you visiting?’ the woman in Richmond asked when she handed us a parking disc.  ‘Yes, and the last time the hubby got a parking ticket,’ I almost replied. Then he got in a pissing contest with the council road manager, or the equivalent, about paying it.  It was one of these occasions when the ‘little’ woman smoothed the waters. Where would the sexes be without one another? No. Don’t answer that. Especially not if you’re having a bad day.

 But I’ve had a few posts on heroes. More importantly the hero. It’s time to hear it for the heroine, cos let’s face it, she’s the one to make things right for him. After a struggle of course. She’s not the giving in type. And he’s got to prove he’s the man for her. Five reasons he’s got to?

 He hurt her once before

He hurt her once before

He hurt her once before

He hurt her once before

He hurt her once before

 For goodness sake, that’s enough for any woman to want to ensure it. To want to stay away from him for that matter. Unfortunately circumstances have decreed that she can’t.

‘Fie Sir…begone…’ Ooh…this one is defo from the truly ‘dramatic’  days…….

 

 Ooh Lawks…this one too, when he was.