Calverley

    The Bedford Tunbridge Wells

    Here’s Calverley’s observations on people, life and more important things…


    Back in harness after bit of a break in Spain and an escape from creditors (yes, Calverley missed you too). The getaway, though, meant battling through Gatwick. EasyJet announcer fails to impress but causes much mirth when he advises that the flight to Nice is boarding. Only problem is he pronounces it ‘nice’ as in this is a ‘nice’ place. And he did it more than once. Fills one with confidence.


    How times change. Girl turns up for local job interview last week wearing pyjamas under a fake leopard skin coat. Obviously she had to get the box ticked so she could keep claiming Jobseeker’s Allowance, or whatever. Calverley would have offered her the vacancy just to see her reaction.


    Wrong sign language. Calverley takes a real interest in local hostelries, as should all good citizens. Imagine his confusion then on wending his way through the town the other night when he spots the huge pub sign telling him The Bedford, next to the railway station, is actually in Tonbridge Wells and not Tunbridge Wells. That would have rattled those who get off London trains after a heavy night out.


    Kids can be so cruel, or matter of fact. Overheard in restaurant. Grandson aged about five; “Grandma, I’m going to get a motorbike when I’m 16.” Grandma, age indeterminate: “That’ll be nice, I look forward to seeing you riding it.” Grandson: “Don’t worry Grandma, you’ll be dead by then.” Charming.


    With football back, Calverley is reminded of his friend who begged his wife not to tell him the result of a match he was recording while he was out. Walking through the door back home he shouts to his wife that he doesn’t want to know the score. She shouts: “Don’t worry, darling, there were no goals.” They are still married.


    Calverley hates to upset or disappoint his incredibly bright readers and so publishes the following feedback from Ben Hardy without comment: “Call me old fashioned but I thought it was bad form to refer to oneself in the third person, so why does Calverley persist in this: is he being ironic?” Ben, you’re ‘old fashioned’. Calverley knows he promised not to comment, but then…

    Chin, chin readers