Chris Pascoe’s Fun Tales

Not surprisingly, Chris has a strange effect on elderly ladies...

who I realised was visibly distressed by the commotion and noise around her table.

I should help her, I thought. What do I say though? Quietly tell the dad the lady was getting upset? Would he take kindly to that? He didn’t look like he’d take kindly to that.

By the time I’d thought all this through and finally stood up, Whirlwind Wayno, Cyclone Cassie and the whole family were heading out of the door, but not before Hurricane Hazza knocked over a display stand and sent about 500 leaflets cascading to the lady’s feet. She slowly stood up and began carefully picking them up, one by one. I rushed to help, scooping up handfuls.

As soon as I’d finished, the elderly lady offered me her thanks – at least I think that’s what she was doing.

“I don’t do TLC lovie dubby jubby. You understand things, do you, duck?” she said.

I didn’t duck, but I didn’t understand either, so I nodded, smiled and headed back to Lorraine.

“You haven’t finished yet!” boomed my new friend behind me. “You missed some!”

This happened three more times, and she even made me crawl under a table for the last two leaflets. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Lorraine

He sent about 500 leaflets cascading around her feet

munching chips and trying not to laugh. Before I was finally allowed to go, the elderly lady wagged her finger and admonished, “You young people are so slapdash.”

I’ll be 54 this year.

The next day, another elderly lady dropped 20p in a shop. I picked it up and handed it to her. She stared at it for a moment before asking me if I thought she looked like the sort of person who needed handouts. I quickly explained what had happened, and her reaction was very different. Lorraine rounded a corner to find an old woman tenderly stroking my cheek.

“You’re like Marmite to octogenarians, aren’t you, Chris?” mumbled Lorraine as we headed for the checkouts.

Just to cap it all, I kicked an elderly lady’s walking stick about 20 feet down the aisle of the Isle of Wight ferry. In fairness, she had suddenly jammed it in front of me as I walked past her seat. I quickly ran after it and retrieved it like an over-eager puppy, but she didn’t seem to know whether to love me or hate me. So, hah Lorraine! Not like Marmite at all!

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