Pure Comedy
There are times in this life when you whish that someone would have filmed your actions. I was trying to promote one of my books and this time Jean who is my wife, and I were delivering flyers. She took the south side of the street and I took the north. It just happened that I walked up to this church, which occupied almost half a city block. I pushed half a dozen flyers in the Manse letterbox when I heard this little voice.
“I say,” it said in a very English la-di-dah accent. “I say you down there.” The voice echoed off the buildings and seemed to be coming from nowhere in particular. I looked up and around but could see nothing. Again the voice repeated the exact same words. Eventually I spotted this little head poking out of a second floor window. “I say,” he said again. “You, I say, you.” Puzzled I looked around and could see no one else then I pointed to myself and gave a quizzical expression. “Yes you,” he said “Oh,” I groaned. “What?” “Are you Al Beck?” “No.” “Oh dear,” he said sadly. “I’m locked in the vestry.” I tried the main door, but it was locked too. I shrugged. “So.” “Oh dear,” he said again. “Are you simple or something?” I shook my head. “Well I might be simple, but I’m not locked in the vestry.” At that I walked away and left him too it. Apparently Al Beck is a locksmith company, which I’d never heard of. It would seem that the Vicar was doing a little extra work when the cleaners walking by found the door unlocked and quickly corrected the situation.
