... give yersel a bit praise for a change, why not eh?
I'll start.
"I'm proud ...
... to have intervened in a difficult situation in the middle of nowhere, Sardinia.
We were on a six month jaunt driving around the Med taking every back road and mountain pass. We ended up in a small village that was more like a film set from an old film. We stopped for provisions in a lovely old grocery shop manned by two ancient spinsters, they were lovely. Four other of their kind were doing more gossiping than shopping, they allowed us to 'go to the front of the queue' for what it was. As we asked for various things they chuckled at my pathetic Italian and commented on what we bought.
Everything was like a scene from 100 years ago with sacks of flour, hams hung from the ceiling and mushrooms in straw punnets fresh from the hillside.
As they were cutting slices of ham, and wrapping each one, a family of Romanians came in, dad, two big teenage sons and a woman who looked like a fortune teller. They proceeded to pick up things from the shelves, taking bites out of the fruit and 'tasting' the cheeses, etc. The two old lasses started to fluster and whispered that it was becoming a big problem after years of happy tranquility serving the locals and occasional 'lost' tourist.
Me and Mrs Smug couldn't wait to get out but noticed the Romanians were blatantly putting things in their bag and pockets. Out of nowhere I absolutely lost it and charged at them. I grabbed the bag, pushed them outside and took my jacket off. I was screaming at them and rolling up my sleeves while the dad pulled out a knife. 'Call that a knife' I thought which actually made me laugh out loud.
That did the trick and they jumped in their old Peugeot and bombed off in a cloud of dust.
I went back into the shop to a chorus of hand flailing, pantomime swoons and bravissimos!
I don't often feel pride but I did that day and lapped up all the praise
Anyone else?
I'll start.
"I'm proud ...
... to have intervened in a difficult situation in the middle of nowhere, Sardinia.
We were on a six month jaunt driving around the Med taking every back road and mountain pass. We ended up in a small village that was more like a film set from an old film. We stopped for provisions in a lovely old grocery shop manned by two ancient spinsters, they were lovely. Four other of their kind were doing more gossiping than shopping, they allowed us to 'go to the front of the queue' for what it was. As we asked for various things they chuckled at my pathetic Italian and commented on what we bought.
Everything was like a scene from 100 years ago with sacks of flour, hams hung from the ceiling and mushrooms in straw punnets fresh from the hillside.
As they were cutting slices of ham, and wrapping each one, a family of Romanians came in, dad, two big teenage sons and a woman who looked like a fortune teller. They proceeded to pick up things from the shelves, taking bites out of the fruit and 'tasting' the cheeses, etc. The two old lasses started to fluster and whispered that it was becoming a big problem after years of happy tranquility serving the locals and occasional 'lost' tourist.
Me and Mrs Smug couldn't wait to get out but noticed the Romanians were blatantly putting things in their bag and pockets. Out of nowhere I absolutely lost it and charged at them. I grabbed the bag, pushed them outside and took my jacket off. I was screaming at them and rolling up my sleeves while the dad pulled out a knife. 'Call that a knife' I thought which actually made me laugh out loud.
That did the trick and they jumped in their old Peugeot and bombed off in a cloud of dust.
I went back into the shop to a chorus of hand flailing, pantomime swoons and bravissimos!
I don't often feel pride but I did that day and lapped up all the praise
Anyone else?


