I find the following to be simply amazing but, at the same time, a sad indictment of our times and I promise you that it is absolutely true. We are very fortunate, here in the Inclosure, for we receive little or no junk mail and very few unsolicited phone calls. Now I don’t know why this should be, perhaps it’s got something to do with my charming manner when responding!
Anyway, just the other day, I answered the phone and a female voice, which spoke with such rapidity that my ailing ears and less than alert mind had a job to keep up with it, informed me that she, the owner of the voice, which spoke in what I can only describe as ‘Gibberwock’, was from some energy company or other, the name of which I never did grasp; but that’s not important, just you read on!
She then went on to inform me that it was my lucky day, or words to that effect, - I never was that good at understanding Gibberwock! If I would just take a few minutes to answer some simple questions, she felt sure that her company would be able to offer me a refund, or some such thing, on my energy bill.
I was tempted, at this point, to slam the phone down but I was intrigued and replied in the affirmative. What follows, is the gist of our conversation.
Gibberwock: What sort of house do you live in? Detached, semi-detached etc.
Me: Detached
Gibberwock: Are you the owner or do you have a mortgage?
Me: None of your business.
Gibberwock: What age group are you in? 20-30; 30-40; 40-50 etc.
Me: Sixties.
Gibberwock: Do you heat your house with gas or oil?
Me: Neither.
Gibberwock: Ah! Must be by electricity, then.
Me: No.
At this point there was quite a long pause and then she continued.
Gibberwock: Well if you don’t use gas, oil or electricity, what do you use to heat your house?
Me: Wood.
There followed another, even longer, pause.
Gibberwock: Would what?
Me: (in total disbelief at what I was hearing) Would, nothing. Just wood.
At this point, I waited with bated breath, for although I was pretty sure of her next question, I really didn’t want to hear it
Gibberwock: What is wood?
Me: (very patiently and succinctly) It’s what trees are made of, or if you like it grows on trees. You put it in a fire and set light to it. Does that help?
There now ensued a silence which was broken occasionally by what sounded like sobbing or maybe it was just vocalised frustration- who knows?
Gibberwock: I d’d’don’t think you’re eligible for a refund, after all.
Me: I didn’t think, for one minute, that I would be. Good day.
And on that rather abrupt note, our telephone conversation was terminated. Clearly, the poor girl had nary an inkling about wood, wood burners or probably even trees. This revelation brought to mind a tale told to me by a friend who overheard a conversation between his young son and a similarly aged relation who had come to stay, on holiday from London. It went something like this:
Visiting relation. You’re dirty people down here in the Forest.
Friends’ son: What makes you say that?
Visiting relation: Well, you gets your milk from dirty old cows and we gets ours from nice clean bottles!!
Which I’m sure provides food for thought for all of us and whilst, like me I’m sure you’re wondering what ever happened to basic education, aren’t you glad that you had one?
Must go now, I’ve got to cut some would or milk a bottle!
Ian Thew
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