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Friday, 19 July 2013

Miguel.




Tall, tanned with a duffel bag he sits in front with me.   “I am Miguel” instantly my language centre of my brain deduces quickly that Miguel is a student, in fact, a foreign student. I say hello back, in English. Slowly.  I notice his knees are very tanned, already I’m annoyed he can get away with wearing shorts as I look stupid even standing next to a rack of shorts in a shop.  Me with my white british knees. “I love England, it is pretty” I sense he is reciting a Spanish Janet and John ‘how to speak the English’ book for the under-fives. Probably not though, last time I spoke Spanish I said “graphiarse” instead of gracias, somehow my lips got involved and both colluded to embarrass me. We are making good progress and about halfway to his destination he starts to move about in his seat to face me, he starts to stroke the side of the seat and that instantly puts me into my I-appreciate-your-gay-but-I’m-not-mode, as I am quite a catch for the younger gay men of this world. I am thinking he wants to stay in the UK with the perfect sugar daddy, which is me obviously.  It is funny what conclusions you can come to in a few seconds. “Have you want to seen my banana?” Miguel insists whilst tapping my arm and has a pout on, like they do in them ‘selfies’ you see on twitter and that Facebook. I have to stop, he’s crossed a boundary touching me and offering me his ‘banana.’ I pull over, get out and stomp around to the passenger door, open it and drag him and his tanned knees out. He is crying and wailing, not sure what he is saying but I get in and drive away. Feeling bloody miffed I can tell you, I’m always being picked on by the gays, just because I have perfect nails, lovely teeth, wear lovely clothes, wash almost every day and listen to Melody Gardot. I’m miffed me, miffed.   Much later while searching for a penny that fell out of my quite perfectly manicured hand down the side of the passenger seat, I find a bandana.  The penny dropping was perhaps a metaphor for the penny dropping in my perfectly moisturised and quaffered head. ‘Have I seen his bandana?’ is what Miguel was trying to say to me. I feel a bit daft and embarrassed; he was not trying to pull me to be his sugar daddy, he was looking for his bandana! I still have it. I wore it when I dressed as a pirate for pirate day, tied it to my sword. Very fetching.