Giddy Up!

Today it was my turn to take the little lady to Nursery. I don't often do this because I am normally at work or some such tosh. We had packed up all the gear. A surprising amount. Although I really shouldn't be surprised anymore at how much stuff you have to lug everywhere when you are a parent. It looked like we were setting out on an expedition.

We walked up the small hill on the way there, the little lady singing and skipping in the early morning Sun. It was a lovely morning, a sure sign that Spring was coming and I felt a stir in my cockles at the thought of Summer being just around the corner.

As we walked along, a Mummy of another child that the little lady knew at Nursery fell into step beside us. I knew her face vaguely. It was quite long and snouty, a bit like a womble.

Ooohh Madame! IS this your Daddy!! Oh my, we haven't seen him before, have we?

She sounded a bit like a horse would if it spoke.

Perhaps I was being a little sensitive as it was so damn early but was she dissing me for not doing the nursery run? I curled my top lip up in a slightly sneering hello. I fancied I looked like a more handsome Elvis when he did that thing with his top lip.

Yes, that's me. I am normally working so don't get to do this too often but hey, we're having fun little Miss aren't we?

Yes daddy, yes!

Squealed the little lady in the affirmative.

I narrowed my eyes at Mrs Horse-Womble. There, that should show her that this Daddy is actually, in fact, Daddy Cool.

Oh, of course. I knew you worked. I bet you work hard. Why if I still had a husband, I would be delighted if he worked as hard as you!

She beamed at me as if she fancied eating chips out ma knickers. A quaint Glasgow phrase implying unrequited love.

Ahem, yes. Splendid.

I urrfed as I l cleared my throat. I tried to hurry the Little Lady up but she was by now playing chases with the other girl, who fortunately had skipped the horse-womble gene by the looks of it.

I tried to make polite conversation around such safe subjects as the weather or the reliability of the trains. Regardless of what I said, on any subject. Mrs, or should I say Miss Horse-Womble managed to reply in such a way as to bring the subject round to her not having a man.

It was all quite bloody awkward and I was relieved by the time we got to Nursery. I helped get the little lady ready. Then it was goodbye kisses and hugs. I turned to leave.

Miss Horse-Womble was leaving at exactly the same moment too. I held the door open for her, the way I would for anyone. Even my Father in law or a Welshman.

Oh goodness, how gallawnt!

She cried.

She said gallant in the same way posh people say Garage. People in Glasgow say Garage like GAH-RIDGE. Which makes us sound like guttural ape-men.

No problem milady.

Said I for some inexplicable reason.

She shook her mane and flared her nostrils baring all her teeth at me.

I was just going to grab a coffee round the corner if you werent rushing off?

She said, quite casually.

Two things popped into my head in unison.

The first was a vision of me cinching her saddle tight before leaping across her back and galloping around the paddock letting out a joyous whoop.

The other was an image of the good lady holding those big iron forcep things that they use to castrate bulls, veins popping out on her neck as she squeezed them shut on my precious happy sacks with a cackle.

I snapped back to the present.

Oh sorry, I have to run some errands this morning.

I lied with a smile and a regretful roll of the eyes.

Then I ran away as fast as my legs could carry me.