We have all had those moments in our lives when you wish the ground would open beneath you and swallow you up. Needless to say, spouse and I have experienced many of these, possibly more than most as generally speaking, opening mouth before engaging brain is a characteristic that runs in our families - particularly mine. I am not know as 'our diplomatic correspondent' for nothing.
Latterly, however, I have worked hard at guarding my tongue and endeavouring to be more of a wallflower than a brash old sunflower, if you get my drift. Whilst I have achieved a great deal of success in this field, embarrassing moments still come my way. And this time I didn't even have to open my mouth.
You wouldn't think making enquiries at an unholsterers would engender such a moment would you? How wrong you would be, my dear reader. This week, I breezed into the showroom/workshop of a local craftsman, a most helpful and skilled artisan and, bonus for me, his gorgeous pure white boxer dog was curled up on his bed in the bow window, just waiting for fuss and cuddles. Having got that important business over with, I turned my attention to the matter I had come about, the re-upholstering of two armchairs. Spouse, in his great wisdom, had suggested I take photographs with my smartphone of said chairs. This I duly did and chirpily announced this fact to my new upholsterer friend. He was suitably impressed and asked to see said pics. Ha, now here's the rub. I might be the proud possessor of a smartphone, but as we speak, I am not the proud possessor of all its workings and when asked to show the photographs of the aforementioned armchairs, I opened up the phone and stared blankly at the menu.
My upholsterer friend pointed to an icon for pictures and I pressed on it with great relief, thinking I was not going to look a complete nitwit after all - everyone else knows how to operate the wretched things don't they? Sure enough, pictures appeared on the screen. But, unfortunately, not pictures of armchairs. No indeedy. I don't know if you are familiar with the large Disney Mickey Mouse ears set on a headband to be worn on top of the head - large red and white spotted ears? Yup, there they were, worn by spouse posing nonchalantly against the fireplace. Hastily swipe screen to next picture - spouse with jazz hands and Mickey Mouse ears. Pink of face, I try one more swipe - spouse pirouetting in Mickey Mouse ears - he missed his vocation, I've never seen such a lovely mover.
The rest is a blur. I believe we eventually located the right icon for photographs, by which time spouse had joined us in the shop and he, ignorant of the all the foregoing, held an intense and serious discussion with the upholsterer regarding armchairs. I wonder of he noticed the hint of an amused glint in the eye of our new friend?
I think I have related the circumstances surrounding the purchase of the Mickey Mouse ears in a much earlier blog, so I won't repeat myself here. No, It was not I that had a yen to possess such an item, it was spouse and every Christmas time, out come the ears and are proudly worn around York city as we make our Yuletide purchases for our loved ones. They, (the ears) bring a certain je ne sais quois to the Christmas shopping experience, certainly smiles and laughter to the streets, so I cannot complain. But why, oh why, did I ever practice on him and them with my new smartphone? Couldn't I just have taken a picture of a Christmas tree or the dog, or my foot?
Somewhere in the foot-thick telephone manual will be the instructions on how to delete photographs. Now where did I put it? .......