Bowler
10-11-2017, 04:03 PM
Thinking on My Feet.
A weekend break found us the Fen country, charming as the wetlands were, we were bound for the city of Ely. The wife had suggested a visit to the cathedral and maybe a spot of shopping.
I sighed, and mentally checked our bank balance; I knew her interest in ancient piles was severely limited.
My fears were justified, after the morning spent in delighting half of the shopkeepers in the city; I rebelled and confiscated her credit card.
We walked in stony silence to the house of God, its honey walls shimmering in the afternoon sun. Once inside I tried to lighten the atmosphere that had grown between us, but stone effigies of long-dead knights and their consorts brought little response, even the serenity of the Ladies Chapel failed to stir her interest; she bore the glint of revenge in her eyes.
A mixed group of Japanese and American tourists shuffled to a halt before a wooden model enclosed in a glass case. The young woman guide cleared her throat and pointed to the reproduction.
"In the fifteenth century the old stone Norman tower collapsed and a replica was built of wood; this is a model of the tower"
A large middle-aged Texan wanted to know more, the poor girl floundered, desperately searching through the notes on her clipboard.
My wife moved in for the kill.
"Can my husband help? He is an expert on medieval architecture" She smiled. "I am sure he will be happy to answer all your questions"
Knowing as much about the subject as I do about French embroidery; I searched my memory banks in desperation. A faintly remembered year old documentary came to the rescue.
I pointed to the model.
"You will note sir the structure of the tower"
The Texan peered through the glass case.
"Not a bolt or a nail in sight is there"
"You're right sir" he acknowledged.
"Dowels and green timber; as it seasoned the structure acquired twice its strength"
Growing in confidence I rambled on. I finished to the polite applause from the Japanese and a bone-crunching handshake from the Texan.
"My hero" grinned my wife as we left.
"Oh it was nothing" I replied "Shops again I think, there's a book I want"
"Medieval Architecture?" She laughed.
"No, Lucrezia Borgia's Potions and Poisons" I smiled.
A weekend break found us the Fen country, charming as the wetlands were, we were bound for the city of Ely. The wife had suggested a visit to the cathedral and maybe a spot of shopping.
I sighed, and mentally checked our bank balance; I knew her interest in ancient piles was severely limited.
My fears were justified, after the morning spent in delighting half of the shopkeepers in the city; I rebelled and confiscated her credit card.
We walked in stony silence to the house of God, its honey walls shimmering in the afternoon sun. Once inside I tried to lighten the atmosphere that had grown between us, but stone effigies of long-dead knights and their consorts brought little response, even the serenity of the Ladies Chapel failed to stir her interest; she bore the glint of revenge in her eyes.
A mixed group of Japanese and American tourists shuffled to a halt before a wooden model enclosed in a glass case. The young woman guide cleared her throat and pointed to the reproduction.
"In the fifteenth century the old stone Norman tower collapsed and a replica was built of wood; this is a model of the tower"
A large middle-aged Texan wanted to know more, the poor girl floundered, desperately searching through the notes on her clipboard.
My wife moved in for the kill.
"Can my husband help? He is an expert on medieval architecture" She smiled. "I am sure he will be happy to answer all your questions"
Knowing as much about the subject as I do about French embroidery; I searched my memory banks in desperation. A faintly remembered year old documentary came to the rescue.
I pointed to the model.
"You will note sir the structure of the tower"
The Texan peered through the glass case.
"Not a bolt or a nail in sight is there"
"You're right sir" he acknowledged.
"Dowels and green timber; as it seasoned the structure acquired twice its strength"
Growing in confidence I rambled on. I finished to the polite applause from the Japanese and a bone-crunching handshake from the Texan.
"My hero" grinned my wife as we left.
"Oh it was nothing" I replied "Shops again I think, there's a book I want"
"Medieval Architecture?" She laughed.
"No, Lucrezia Borgia's Potions and Poisons" I smiled.