Beaky's Blather

‘Of Course it was obvious,’ she said, forking some food into her mouth, ‘you can always tell.  People like that always give themselves away’.  The woman seemed certain in her opinions, allowing little space for an alternative view. I let my mind drift to other evenings, other dinner discussions.

‘You see’, she continued, raising her fork to stoke her face, ‘I was grooming my horse last Wednesday and, you know how a horse can always tell if you’re not feeling yourself,’ she glanced around.

‘What’s the evidence for that?’ I interrupted quietly.  She stalled, looking at me for a full few seconds; her husband cut short a barked laugh. No one spoke and I felt my wife’s foot nudge my shin.

‘Well they do, don’t they,’ she asserted, first to me then the group. I felt the pressure against my shin once more as I looked at her, silent.

‘Do they?’ I murmured. 

‘Do you ride?’ she asked pointedly, an edge to her voice. 

‘Yes.  Then added provocatively, I ride a bike’.  

“Well that’s not the same,’ she crowed, drawing breath as if to sally further.

 In the single second remaining before she continued, I considered my options. I could demur, offer a smile and nod her through to her conclusion, tedious and ridiculous as it might prove to be, or, I could… I could ask again for evidence to substantiate her claim.  I felt for a third time the urgent pressure on my shin.

‘Do horses understand us? How we are feeling?’  I ventured. 

‘You wouldn’t understand, you don’t ride,’ she announced clearly determined to advance.

‘But a horse would?’ I enquired, paused, continued, ‘a horse would understand?’

Clearly irritated, she sighed. ‘I’ve forgotten my point now’.

‘Shame your horse isn’t here to remind you,’ I smiled.

‘Would anyone like some more?’ enquired our host frantically. Plenty left I think, she said picking up a spoon and nudging two lonely sprouts around their dish.

‘I’ll get my coat,’ I said and smiled again, realising that finally, I was enjoying myself.