Milk and sugar

I accompanied my dad to the hospital as he underwent cataract surgery. After the operation, while my dad awaited being discharged, a nurse with a Belfast accent asked us if we wanted some tea.
Yes, we said. We’d love some.
Milk or sugar? she asked.
Milk but no Sugar for me, Sugar but no Milk for my dad, said I.
Huh?
I’ll take milk but no sugar. My dad will take sugar but no milk, please.
I’m sorry, what?
I like my tea with milk but without sugar. My dad wants it the other way around.
Errrrrrrrrr…...
After about ten minutes, the conversation had descended to the following:
Small man glug glug milky, Big man glug glug sweety!
You’re making this very difficult, she said.
Two teas with milk and sugar please, I finally said.
Okay, she said.
In the end, nobody was happy.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Erstmal zu Penny

The supermarket Penny is the budget supermarket for those on a tight budget. Their slogan is 'Erstmal zu Penny' which means it's the first port of call for the sensible German shopper. In my experience, it's also the the first port of call for the clinically insane German shopper. Hopefully, there isn't something in the food there. I was in line at the counter with a carton of milk, a bag of apples and toilet paper (irrelevant but true). I had placed my basket in the stack by the gum rack before emptying the conten ts onto the conveyor belt. Before I had grabbed the milk out of the basket, the tiny Indian woman behind me put her basket on top of mine. I didn't need to say anything. She saw that her basket didn't fit snugly in the one underneath. She lifted it up and I grabbed my milk quickly out of the way. She smiled sheepishly and apologised. No problem, I insisted. This brief moment, it seems, broke the ice between us. Unfortunately, waiting
Read more
The London Underground was in meltdown today. I was forced to walk from Baker Street to Rathbone Place. I had to get in on time or I'd be toast. A lot of people were out on the street. A short guy in skinny jeans walked very slowly in front of me near Portland Place. I could see he was brandishing something in his left hand by the way his elbow hung out. He was giving it his full attention. 'Hey Dickhead', thought I. 'I'm late for work. Shove that smartphone up your arse and step out of my way!!' When I walked past, I saw that he was holding not a phone, but a paper tray holding three cups of hot coffee.
Read more