Pretty vacant

This morning was one of those ‘Operating to a negative schedule’ days. Mickeys big hand was still upstairs cleening teeth, as we should have been schedulewise, expediting, through the door. We were also operating with a negative surplus in the sandwich filling section, who’s on time delivery schedule had slipped yesterday afternoon, in the chaos that was yesterday, the afternoon. This meant that we went to the sandwich shop in the village, the only sandwich filler in the village, there’s nice for you.

Realising the potential to regain previous losses on mickeys boat race, and make rapid advances towards regaining the programme, both smaller Nm’s made their sandwich filling choice, in advance of landing on Planet Sandwich. Its a lovely little place mind, good quality sarnies and popular in the village. Taking our place in the line of aircrew style at the slant hard hats, hi vis vests and bum cracks, a young lady enquired as to what we would like. Ooh fast efficient service I thought, Nm Mk1 says ‘Tuna and mayo please’, to which the lady gives me one of those penetrating looks of bovine docility, and says in a monotone automaton styley ‘That’ll be £1.95’. Fine I says, and ever so slowly movement occured, after it sunk in that she, A) Makes roll, B) hands it over, and then C) the punter pays for it …

Now Mk1 is normal ‘medium child’ size, and lady gets hold of a roll that JC may have picked up too, thinking along the lines of, ‘That’ll come in handy, where’s the fish? The Guvner of the shop looks at Mk1, roll, and suggests ‘smaller rolls are available’ to which lady now looks at food prep bench to see ‘Rolls, Lardy Arsed builders, Not for the use of’ sitting not 6 inches or indeed 15cm from her workstation. Having completed the initial tasking of sourceing from stores the components for the roll, she had now assembled them, then packaged it, and in effect shipped it. Well, placed it on the glass counter anyway.

Nm Mk2 now steps up to the plate, as the spams say I believe, and declares she wants a ham and chive roll. The eyes now changed from those deep brown bovine type orbs to more of a lychee dipped in beetroot juice look. Clearly this request was a step too far, ham appeared to be available, either in centimetre chunks or waffer thin slices, but these ‘chives’ that the devil child spoke of, perhaps they were diced hoody wearing muppets, clearly however, ‘we’ were out of stock.
‘Oh, we’ll just have egg then please’
‘Sliced?’,
‘No, crushed please, they release the flavour slower that way’ …

Having paid and looking at mickeys big hand which was clearly in a period of regression again we QFO’ed to the car. Normally Mk1 gets dropped off at a mates house, but this time the release point would be closer to the day pens. Squeals of ‘ohh its not down here’ as NM took a route not associated with the DZ. Mk1 had forgotten that NM has a Analogue Navigation And Location memory facility, commonly know as ‘remembering shit’, and once shown a back passage rarely forgets it.

Once the drop at the DZ was complete it was off to the next village to drop Mk2 and her egg sandwiches, crushed, (yes I did keep a straight face as they were prepared), on an unsupecting primary school in middle England. Roll on lunchtime …

Oh and if you’re wondering about yesterday afternoon, it wasn’t me, I never touched nuffink.

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