Chris Pascoe’s Fun Tales
chris hoped a romantic trip to Amsterdam would have his partner going head over heels for him, but it seemed it was the other way round!
Although many would dispute it, I’m probably not the Missing Link between man and apes. But I’m pretty sure I’m the link between man and cats. Between two of them anyway – my dad and my old cat Brum.
As mentioned last week, the two had an uncanny amount in common, including an ability to knock themselves out and create fire and water disasters. The thing is, I’m no different and although I obviously had this handed down to me from my father like a poisoned chalice, the only explanation I can offer for Brum’s ways is that he learned them from me.
After reading last week’s column, my wife Lorraine was quick to point out a few “incidents” in our very early days together that strongly confirm the above.
After meeting me on the dance floor at a party where, due to my dance moves, we both ended up flat on the floor, she was then silly enough only months later to agree to join me on a weekend break in Amsterdam.
Never has one man done more in one weekend to convince a woman she’d be far better off single.
It all started in a very warm hotel bar, when I attempted to open a small fanlight window above our heads, totally failing to note a thick iron bar loosely propped against it.
Lorraine didn’t see the bar pitch forward and whack me full blast in the forehead. All she saw was me suddenly fall backwards past her chair as if in a dead faint, swiftly followed by an iron bar that smashed her wine glass into a thousand pieces.
It should’ve been hard to follow this, but I managed. Touring Amsterdam on hired rickety old push-bikes the following day, I realised within seconds that I was cycling on the wrong side of the road and heading straight for an on oncoming car. Grabbing for my brakes I discovered there weren’t any.
Little did I know that old Dutch push-bikes typically have brakes attached to their pedals, and to stop you need to pedal backwards, rather than what I did, which was to throw my legs out to either side and shout, “Arghhhh!”
Not surprisingly, this didn’t help much, and I rode straight into the car, whose driver had had the forethought to pull to a dead halt. I ended up sitting on its bonnet while my bike careered off into a wall.
As if this wasn’t enough, while a now wary Lorraine consoled me 10 minutes later, I shakily propped my bike against a bin and leaned back on it in an attempt to regain some measure of composure. The bin, bike and, ultimately me, keeled over backwards and I ended up in a pile of rubbish with my legs up in the air. This was not an impressive look.
I’m still completely amazed – and very grateful – she married me. All I can assume is that there was a certain style to my mishaps and, as everyone knows, falling with style is the next best thing to flying…