Bumped into Abraham The Puritanical Landlord on the way out to the shops this morning and he asked me something I didn't understand, so I shrugged my shoulders (the international sign for 'huh?'). He then indicated that he was asking if I was going to church because he put his hands together in a praying motion. It's funny that we have to resort to basic body language when we speak the same language day-to-day but worse still that they seem to have a harder time understanding my accent than I do the Indian accent.
Anyway, the church question could have been easily batted off with a couple of answers.
Option A: 'Yes'. Which would have been a lie. The upside is he would have been very happy and none-the-wiser as to my real plans:- Eat crisps and watch lots of goals on youtube. Also, I have form for lying so it would have been a piece of piss.
Option B: 'No'. A non-starter. He might not have cared, but I didn't want to take the chance. Better to play it safe and appear religious than him open a big can of whoop-ass on me. After all, the man has 6 of Christ's crosses on the gates of his house. That's more than 5 for heaven's sake.
Option C: 'Sod off you Nosy bastard.' My first preference but a bit rude.
Back in reality, I panicked and went for the worst possible answer of 'maybe'. I know this is bullshit, he knows this is bullshit, God knows this is bullshit, even little Tiger the dog can smell something a bit funny coming from my direction. It implies that either i'm a half-arsed Christian, a liar or 'not quite sure yet'.
Either way, i'm still not going to church. I have a very busy itinerary for the day. I have to guide Partick Thistle to promotion to the SPL whilst seeing off a multipack of kitkats and a pot noodle equivalent. It ain't easy being me.
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