Local yokel

The man volunteering in the charity shop in Bovey Tracey was in his late sixties, overweight, and had both big toes bandaged. "I was dancing with Ann Widdecombe, she lives round 'ere don'tchyou know? Anyways I was dancing with 'er I was, an' look what 'appened! She ony went an' broke both I's toes! I's didn't know what's was going on did I's!" He had the easy rolling laugh and rounded accent of a true local old boy, and a chink of mischief glinted in his eyes.

Monarch in Manor House

You don't expect a trip to Sainsbury's to be a journey  through time. But today as I was perusing the root vegetables, I saw King Henry the 8th with a trolley full of food. This elderly gentleman, who was quite portly, was wearing a full Tudor outfit, complete with ruff, doublet, hose and  hat. The next odd thing about this ensemble was that all the items of clothing were different, searingly bright colours. He was the technicolour king. He also wore quite thick-lensed round glasses. I followed him for a bit to see whether he was part of some prank, but it appeared not. He was just doing his weekly shop.
He was an aisle ahead of me. When I turned into the bakery section, he was gone. I hurried round the supermarket looking for him; I had wanted to take a picture to prove that I hadn't imagined him, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Not in the aisles; not at the checkouts; not in the car park.

Dominos

The rains that day were so heavy that we thought the sky might be falling in. The generator in the labour ward had died in the storm, and so there was no light, and no fans. Luckily, the day was quiet, and so when the rain died down, we went out to the market to buy some fabric with one of the midwives.
The roads in Brikama are mud and so during rainy season, they become an obstacle course of rally-driving proportions, with huge troughs of unknown depths. After the the day's downpour the water was 2 feet deep, brown, with all manner of unidentifiable things floating in it. We were wearing flip-flops, which depending on which way you look at it could have been either a good or terrible thing. Sticking close the the side of the road, we trepidatiously followed our midwife through the market, occasionally wincing as something slippery got caught between a foot and a sandal, or when the realisation hit that we were wading through muddy African water 2 feet deep directly outside a large health centre with a large infectious diseases unit treating tuberculosis, leprosy and more.
We made it to the fabric shop - mission accomplished. People were passing us saying "This is Africa!" - and it felt fun, like we were experiencing the real thing. On the way back one of us wanted to take a picture of everyone standing in the water. She gave the midwife her camera, and walked into the street a little for the photo. Some of the market traders on the other side of the street were calling out something- was it "stop!" or "no!"?
One more step and the floor was no longer where it had been before- it was a good foot or two lower, and she ended up waist deep. Next girl was following and didn't have enough time to retreat- also waist deep!
We helped them out, amid gales of laughter from every person in the market (including myself I'm afraid, sorry girls). Luckily, none was hurt, and we had spare clothes to change into. But we were famous at the market forever more.

Prodigal Child

It was bedtime, and two of us were writing in our journals, recording the unusual events of the day. It was a treat evening because we had air-conditioning in the 40-degree heat and 88% humidity, and electric light. The other one was reading a book quietly next to us. She said, in her gentle Cambridgeshire accent, and without a trace of exaggerated tone,  "Smack my bitch up"; we laughed and laughed and laughed.

Human too

Miss R, the obs&gynae consultant, was walking down the labour ward corridor behind me. Miss R is a good doctor. But she doesn't worry herself about speaking to or acknowledging students like myself. She is aware of the traditional medical hierarchy. She remains a little distant, doesn't joke or gossip with other staff.  Making our way down the corridor, I could hear her hiccuping softly as we walked.

Anthropomorphism

Walking to the train station through an industrial estate, a magpie skipped and hopped across the road in front of me. It looked so happy, it made me smile.

Not that we know of

My older sister and I look very similar. We were in a hostel in Shanghai when we walked past two men, one of whom called out to us "Excuse me, are you twins?" We said no, sisters but not twins. The man asked us again, "No, you are twins aren't you?" We said no once more, and carried on downstairs. "Are you sure?" he said. "Yes we're sure!" said my sister.  

We could hear him say to his friend as we descended, "They are definitely twins."

Better than Tesco

In Japan, we shopped for supplies in a supermarket near Mount Fuji whose name was 'Welcome Friends, I am POTATO'.

Whilst we were sleeping #3

Whilst we were sleeping and drunk: "I'd like to have a Deirdre Barlow picnic with big glasses and nice music".

Cooler than you

It was a hot day in London and everyone was sweltering on the tube. Exiting at my stop, a middle-aged man man bounded ahead of me up the stairs wearing only a pair of calvin klein underpants, trainers, and an empty-looking backpack.

Florence Nightingale for hangovers

If I drink spirits I get hangovers that consume me from the inside out. They wrack my body with thumping headaches, light-sensitivity, an aching body, an inability to eat or drink anything at all, and a pattern of vomiting every half-hour until nearly exactly 24 hours has passed since I started drinking. Spirits have always done this to me. Yet it took me almost eight years and a final, milestone incident on a sunny Sunday in Brighton involving one such hangover, Brighton pier and a clear plastic bag to realise I should stop drinking them! 

But before the Brighton misdemeanour, I spent a high-spirited (oops, accidental pun, which I shall keep I'm afraid!) evening with a friend of mine that is a lot better, and faster, at drinking than me. I attempted to keep up with her pace, and failed epically. 

The next day, after being scraped off the floor and into the car, and then brought home, my family took to calling me 'Wino' (more because of the resemblance to Amy Winehouse, with the streaky mascara and dishevelled hair, than an actual alcohol problem- I think). At some point in the afternoon I managed to make it downstairs to sit on the sofa, regularly being sick into the Official Sick Bowl that has been used for that purpose ever since I can remember when you're ill and won't be able to make it to the toilet. My small sister (three at the time) came to sit with me, despite my protestations. I felt like maybe I would die. Small sister soon went away, apparently bored by my inability to play. But shortly she returned, dressed in her nurses' garb. She had her toy nursing things with her, and she took my blood pressure and temperature before heading off to the kitchen. She returned with a glass of coca cola with a straw, which she fed to me in small sips, and an ice cube that she rubbed on my lips to wet them. I'd never thought of doing that before. It was amazingly soothing. She was like the Florence Nightingale of hangovers.

Gullible

My sister asked me at the pub one evening if I had heard that they had taken the word 'gullible' out of the Scrabble dictionary. I told her that that was a rubbish joke, and she told me that someone had said the same thing to her earlier that day, and she had believed them. She was upset that I didn't fall for it.

The not-very-exotic man

I was on my way to have some travel vaccinations, trying to work out which exit to take out of Turnpike Lane station when a middle-aged man in an anorak and a baseball cap and funny little glasses approached me. He asked me where I was from, and commented that he thought I was from somewhere exotic, because I looked exotic. I told him that I was in fact not at all exotic, just plain old English. He asked me lots more questions about myself, and again I found myself answering them (note to self: need to stop being so polite in odd situations). The man seemed a little left-field, but harmless, although he reminded me slightly of Robin Williams' character in the film one hour photo. However, after a few minutes of questioning and attempted conventional conversation exits, I had to walk away from the man whilst he was still talking to me.

Whilst we were sleeping #2

Him having fallen asleep watching a film on the sofa after a very long week, I tried to wake up the boy. "Come on, let's get you to bed before I have to.. (carry you there)" Before I got to say that last bit, without waking up, he said, in a yorkshire accent (and he is not from yorkshire): "Butter me up and put me in a sandwich".

Whilst we were sleeping #1

I was awoken by the question "Who said moithering?". I answered "No one, what is moithering?" There was no answer.

The Crazy Finsbury Park Lady

Last week I heard a commotion through my earphones whilst waiting on the northbound victoria line platform at Finsbury Park. I looked around to see what was going on and turned off my music. A group of Jamaican women were standing around a pram, and one was screaming and shouting at the others whilst they laughed at her. Her accent was so thick that I couldn't work out what she was so agitated about.
People on the platform were looking at each other in that British way when someone is making a bit of a show.
I looked away but then a movement caught my eye: the woman was taking her top off!
She threw her top onto the floor and shouted some more in her bra.
Just when the rest of us witnessing this thinking this was the strangest thing we'd seen on a tube platform, she started taking off her shorts, except this time she threw them onto the track instead of just the floor. Blimey! Now the woman was shouting and screaming at her cackling friends in just her bra, tiny thong, and sandals. She ran around the pram a few times before taking off her bra as well. Unfortunately she had those breasts that look a bit like Snoopy's ears..you know the ones, long and flat with a little retrousse rise at the bottom. Not the most scintillating of sights on a sticky London afternoon.
The woman went off for a jog about the adjacent platform. She of course ended up deciding to stand next to me. Being very polite and ever so English, I just pretended I was reading my paper and that a woman standing next to me in just a thong and sandals with her wangers flapping about was just your standard every day occurrence. I tend to attract nutters in this way and have adopted a policy of least resistance, or perhaps a policy of imagining I am wearing an invisibility cloak (doesn't work very often, I am one for getting stuck in conversation with strangelings).
Her friends, trying to contain themselves- or maybe just trying not to wet themselves with the apparent hilarity of it all, collected up her remaining items of clothing, and brought them over to her. She put them back on, got on the tube that arrived and sat down, sans-shorts, and pulled a little girl, looking about 18months old, onto her lap.