Sunday, May 14, 2006

Backpockets

On a particular sunny wintry Sunday morning in March I stumbled out of bed into Cambridge's city centre. It was teeming with loving doves with eyes only for each other. To further drive their intimate point home they had arms entwined in various interesting knots. The older generation with a nod to ravages of time settled for a simple hand-clasp. The chummier ones went for arms around each others shoulders, and the chubbier ones for a simple linking of limbs. The more adventurous, or flexible ones, went for some or other variation of the Heimlich manoeuver. Whatever the knot in their appendages, care was taken to protect their fingry extremeties from a particularly toothy wind.

Just as I was getting bored with the knotty display, the couple of the day hove into view. It comprised of a reasonably fit guy and a relatively larger lady wearing a particularly close-fitting pair of jeans*. The lady in a frank admission of revolting intimacy, and betraying a pie-eyed imagination, had her hand in the chap's backpocket. The lad feeling that such gestures require reciprocating, tried to get his hand in her backpocket. Failed. Tried again. Failed again. The lady let out a nervous titter, and the guy settled for a shoulder wrap-around. The biting wind tore gleefully at his knuckles, and I watched in fascination as they turned a cheery (teary?) red. He had forgotten his gloves.

Well, a famous Sooth did say to "Beware the Ides of March".

I almost took a picture, but the guy looked a little irate. Perhaps he was regretting giving the lady chocolates on Valentine's Day that may be responsible for stuffiness in her backyard.

*We call such fits shrink-fits. The SRI during one of its regular sittings at Cafe Nero came up with two suggestions to achieve such fits.

1.) Take a regular pair, and start digging into cakes, pies and pastries, taking care not to take off said pair of jeans for some months.

2.) Purchase a pair several sizes smaller. Don't worry, climbing into them is not that much of a problem. Preparation is the key. About an hour before wearing them, you should either boil the jeans, or deep freeze self. We recommend both to ease fleshy pain.

4 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Cruel and shallow of you.

5:59 AM  
Blogger i said...

I try and remain shallow. I don't know how to swim.
And the spider who lives behind my toilet begs to differ on the charge of cruelty.

Meanwhile, step off the judgemental pedal. Relax. Play some GTA3. High-speed judging is the most common cause for crashes.

To paraphrase a famous phrase: "Judgements are like the Wind, Everyone passes one."

Note the cunning use of the verb 'passes'. It may easily be confused with the verb 'possess'.

God, I am on a roll this AM. I love mixin' it up when there is no threat of physical danger.

There, I have just given you more Sharma-specific adjectival-ammo for your sniper-pack in the form of the words 'coward', 'craven', 'chicken' and 'cur'.

Does that gesture make me large of heart? Pride makes my T-Shirts shrink-fit.

Bwahaha.

2:14 PM  
Blogger Unknown said...

Ha ha ha. Looks like Sharma, you have rubbed a few people(particularly the ladies) wrong way.

But I bet, thats an art you have mastered to the perfection.

Again, a very well written piece which only you can write!

5:15 AM  
Blogger i said...

Would that was rubbing the ladies; right way, wrong way, any which way... but virtual.

The only art that I have mastered is the art to fart by the seat of my pants. Note here I employ the american usage of the word 'pants'. The British by that word imply something far more personal (and unsightly - unless you wear boxers).

8:42 AM  

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