And Then A Fishy Tale….

“I’d like to go get some of that led fish today.”
“Led fish? You mean red fish?”
”That what I said; led.”
”Ligh…. right. You remember what it’s called?”
”Fish?”
”Oookay…. and its name?”
”You kidding with me? How could I know his name?”
”This is very true.  How about the kind of fish?”
”Told you alleady; led fish.”
”Li… right.”

So off we went and I just knew this was going to be interesting.

"Hello there. What can I get you on this, the longest day of the year?"
“G’day fishmongering person. Two tickets for tonight’s lottery please. Ah, ha! I sense by your surprised look you don’t deal in lottery tickets, so less surprisingly, we’d like to purchase some fish please. My little nest of vipers is quite partial to that le… red fish you stock on occasion the name of which we’ve done gone and forgot but it’s not that snapper fella.  Would it be bass by chance?”
”That it isn’t my fine forgetful foragers for fish. Bass is a really big string instrument usually found in orchestras. You’re possibly looking for bream which is sort of le.. red and mainly found in water.”
”That’s it!!” Exclaimed her outdoors with excitement, “Bleam!”
”Bream. It’s plon…. pronounced, bream.” I exclaimed without excitement. 

She looked at the fishmonger lady and explained that he, me, should have known this but  he’s, me’s,  old, a little forgetful and very stupid. They looked at me, shared a look, then chuckled happily.
”Lost for words then?” The lady-monger smilingly smirked at me.
”Not rally,” I rejoined, “I was just imagining how the pair of you would look, mouths all agape, laid on that cold, cold slab amongst all the cod.”

An uneasy truce ensued and the serious business to hand finalised.

With money proffered and  some le…. red fish bagged we made to leave the shop when the lady-monger said to her outdoors, “You may be interested to know that bass and bream are part of the same fishy family so he’s not quite as stupid as he looks.” 
This mostly passed over my little nest of vipers by a country mile but I grabbed at it!
”See? You hear that? I was almost right!” I said somewhat suspiciously.

As we wended our way and I replayed the lady-mongers last few words over and over in my feeble mind, I couldn’t shake off the spooky sensation I’d completely lost the recent war of words. Am I stupid or wot?

Thus the longest day draws, slowly, to a close.

Quote;  P. G Wodehouse.

“I flung open the door. I got a momentary flash of about a hundred and fifteen cats of all sizes and colours scrapping in the middle of the room, and then they all shot past me with a rush and out of the front door; and all that was left of the mob-scene was the head of a whacking big fish, lying on the carpet and staring up at me in a rather austere sort of way, as if it wanted a written explanation and apology.”