By strawhouse

Bath. And Why I’m Never Going There Again!!!

I went down to Bath today to meet Mrs C. It’s been ages since I went and I have been so looking forward to it.
It was as fabulous as ever to see Mrs C. It’s always like no time has passed at all since we last saw each other.
After a cup of tea at her house we headed into Bath for lunch. A much looked forward to Sally Lunn Bun.
Mrs C had a parcel to collect from the sorting office so we went there first. The car park was ridiculously busy and there was nowhere to park so I suggested I go in and get the parcel for her. There is a passing resemblance between me and Mrs C (see extras) and no one looks at the picture on a driving licence properly anyway so in I went.
The queue was massive so it took ages to get to the front. I handed over the card the Postie had left, waved Mrs C’s licence at her and waited. The woman behind the counter then shouted what sounded like a load of random letters and numbers. I assumed she was calling out the parcel number for someone to go and get. Then I realised there had been a long silence and she was looking at me expectantly. She repeated herself like you would to a two year old.
She had called out the first bit of the postcode BA blah blah blah and was waiting for me to finish it. Obviously I haven’t got the first clue what Mrs C’s postcode is but couldn’t say that as I was falsely claiming to be Mrs C.
Um. Er.
I managed to sneak a look down at the driving licence thankfully still in my hand and say the postcode without looking as though I was reading it.
She looked at me as though I was a moron. Me laughing out loud didn’t help!!!!
The stupid thing is you don’t have to be the addressee to collect a parcel - it was for Mr M anyway!!!!!!
It did make us laugh!
From there we went into town and to Sally Lunn’s Buns for lunch. I had steak and Stilton in a bun ( a giant bread roll really) and Mrs C had chicken and ham. Delicious. It was lovely chatting and laughing as usual and setting the world to rights.
As we were finishing up
And it literally causes me pain to write this even after almost two months!!!!
the waiter - an old Manuel from Fawlty Towers type - came up to us and put an arm on each of our shoulders and said
Seriously, can barely write it
I ‘ope I get thees right, Mother and daughter, yes?
NO NO NO, a thousand fucking times no!!!!!!!!
Mrs C is eight years younger than me but Oh My God!!!!
She thought he was joking, I knew he wasn’t and felt like I’d been punched in the stomach.
I have no problem with my age at all but I have always looked younger than I am which is what people sometimes comment on. So to be thought old enough to be Mrs C’s mother - she’s 37 for Gods sake - was hard to take.
And blatantly ridiculous, I’m realistic enough to know I don't look that old!
I had my head in my hands and couldn’t really look at him, Mrs C didn’t know what to do with herself, the waiter realising his faux pas beat a hasty retreat apologising over and over.
He bought me a free bun in a box but I’d probably choke on it if I ate it!
We didn’t leave a tip!!!!!
I kept laughing at the funniness of it and then feeling mortified at the humiliation of it.
Luckily it was mostly funny. Especially when we were looking at birthday cards for Miss L and Mrs C started laughing hysterically at one that said ‘Happy Birthday, I’m still younger than you!!’
Too soon she asked!
Idiot waiters aside it was a lovely day as ever. I headed home after Mrs C had picked my grandchildren up from school. It was nice to see them too!

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