Open Writing

“You ought to walk every day. It will help to restore your muscle tone”, the doctor said.

So that’s how come I was in the pub. Let me explain…. I had recently returned home after a spell in hospital where I had undergone a hernia operation. I had followed the doctor’s advice and had walked a good couple of miles. I was hot and thirsty and a cooling pint of beer seemed a good idea to me. After all the doctor hadn’t said anything about cutting down on the drink, had he? And the canalside pub looked so inviting.

Aaahhh…lovely. That went down a treat. One more and then back on the road. I had noticed the old chap in the corner as I entered the pub. He was sitting, idly tossing an empty cigarette packet to a large and rather tough looking Staffordshire bull terrier.

He gave me a smile as he caught my look of apprehension. “He wai’nt ‘arm thee”, he said. “ ‘E just lahkes to fetch t’packet back to me. He’s as soft as a boiled turnip”. I smiled back at the old fellow and as I did so he said to the dog, “Goon with thee. I’ve had enough of thi games” and he kicked the cigarette packet to one side.

It landed just in front of my left foot and without thinking I flicked out my foot and sent the packet skimming across the floor. The “boiled turnip” was on to it in a flash, a crashing, thrashing, smashing bundle of sinew and muscle. He hurled himself across the room, retrieved the packet and dumped it at my feet. Then he looked at me.

Now when a Staffordshire bull terrier looks at you, you know you’ve been looked at. The breed are noted for their muscularity and strength, but the thing you notice most of all is that the whites of their eyes are a shade of pink which makes them look very threatening, even though you know they are as soft as a “boiled turnip”. The look said very clearly, “Now pick it up and THROW it”.

The old boy smiles his approval and I picked up the packet and threw it. Of course, you know who brought it back to me again and again and again. Eventually I finished my drink and turned to say farewell to the old gentleman and his dog. I moved towards the door and to my surprise I saw that the dog had already arrived there and there was a subtle change in its attitude.

He was looking at me again and this look implied that if I thought I was going to be allowed to push off without finishing the game I had another think coming! I sent an appealing look to the old man who exclaimed, “He wain’t let thee go, the daft ow’d bogger”, as he waved his empty glass meaningfully in my general direction.

“Here, sithee”, he said as he handed the glass to me. “Put a drop of ale in theer and ah’ll tek hold of t’packet ageean”. Of course, I knew that I could have said no to this offer. I also knew that if it came to a contest I was not really “match fit” and the “boiled turnip” certainly was.

I should have felt resentful as a Yorkshireman at being conned into buying that beer, but I must admit that the overriding feeling was one of relief.

And, of course, I knew that the walk had done me good.