I’m all alone again. I knew this would happen one day soon. It’s not the first time either. All my bosom buddies get swallowed up by desirous males and I get left on the shelf.
But then, look at me. Diminutive and dumpy; petite and portly; stout and saucy. Spice it up any way you want to. It’s all the same. And we were all the same. “So why me?” I ask again.
Why would anyone want me anyway? I have no redeeming features. But then, my former mate’s facades wouldn’t break any pots either. It’s always me that ends up at the back of the queue.
Ah well, no point in beating myself up over it. I can’t change. I am who I am. I am what I am. Like it or lump it. Okay. No need for commiserations. Lump it will do. It fits!
Let’s look on the bright side. I get to travel all over the country. No strings; no ties. And I like it. More than that - I adore it.
Suzy owns a caravan. It’s a real top of the range affair; air conditioning, satellite TV, full sized cooker and fridge and a walk-in shower cubicle. She tows with a Range Rover and piles kids and dogs in the back. You’d be amazed the places we get to see.
Suzy doesn’t need a bloke. Far from it. She’s one of those competent, coping types. I think she scares men off. But Suzy’s a real people person. She loves everybody and oozes a truly infectious zest for life.
I’ve never known anyone quite like her. She’ll pull up at a caravan clubber’s meet and before you can say Jack Robinson, she’s got the rig set up and the barbeque lit. She wears me out just watching.
If she spies a new face around the camp site she makes a bee line to introduce herself. Invariably they’re invited over for supper, and let’s face it, who doesn’t love a sizzling Barbie on a hot summer’s evening. I know I do. It lets me off the hook.
The kids are great. Suzie gets them organised; the little ones first. She spreads a picnic blanket on the grass and unfolds a white Formica top table. Each is given a job to do. One will hand out paper plates; another tumblers and straws. Someone empties bags of potato crisps and cheese straws into bowls and another pours the fruit juice.
The older ones get a turn at frizzling the sausages, under Suzy’s supervision of course, and because she has eyes in the back of her head, no one dares so much as look at a sausage until it’s cooled.
Occasionally, a new kid on the block will declare that he doesn’t eat meat. No, not even sausage; or burgers. Yuk! Now this is where I start to sweat.
“Well what do you like to eat sweetie?” She asks. “Veggie Burger? Salmon Kebab?” Why does she do that? She’s far too accomodating. She should stop it off at once. Of course, being the resourceful type she always has the store cupboard in the caravan to fall back on.
Now here’s the bottom line. Tonight, little Jonny is in a strop. He doesn’t like anything that’s on offer and he’s letting it be known – loudly. His older sister announces that he likes baked beans in tomato sauce. Whoops!
“I’ll have a look in my special cupboard,” says nice auntie Suzie. I get the heebie-jeebies as the door opens and eagle eyes peer into every last nook and cranny.
“Jonny,” she calls. “I have spaghetti hoops, ravioli, macaroni cheese, erm… oh dear, I’m out of beans.” Phew! My tinny knees are knocking. She hasn’t noticed.
“Oh, wait a minute Jonny. There’s one fallen down the back… ah, here we are – baked beans in tomato sauce. Now where’s that been hiding?” The game is up. There’s nothing like a pernickety woman is there. She’s even checked the expiry date.
“Oh Jonny, I’m so sorry. It’s the only can of beans I have left and it’s out of date.” With that she tosses me into the trash can.
Ah well, that’s life as they say. And here I lay, sunny side up alongside a dead banana and an apple core.
Just another old has-bean.
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