Those Crazy Russians

Those Crazy Russians….
Was up visiting my sister Ann on Boxing day, my sister has four kids and four grand kids (the famous Abi from previous Blogs is the youngest grand daughter), my sister had a full house of kids including Abi who was screaming “The Robert frightens me” as she pointed at her brother Shaun’s’ remote controlled ‘robot’. There were teenagers arguing over MP3 players, dogs barking, people trying to watch TV too loud and a knock at the door which I answered.
There on my sister’s door step stood a lanky geeky looking dude with a big smile and a Santa scarf.

“Hello I am Russian student” he smiled and for some obscure reason clicked his heels in a Nazi type ‘spring time for Hitler dance way’.

I looked at him and said “Really? Where in Russia?”

His eyes got bigger he smiled more and stuttered “Erm Russia”

“Where in Russia?” I asked again. At that moment Abi decided to squeeze her wee blonde ringlet fat head through my thighs, between my legs and stare at him, it must have looked like I had just popped a curly headed small Gene Wilder from my crotch.

“I am selling these pictures” he ignored the small Willy Wonka type girl and carried on regardless.

In his hand was a shiny, metallic kitsch illustration of Jesus, he held it up for full effect.

“That’s Jebus” Abi giggled as I shoved her back through my legs and pushed her into the small hall that led directly into the living room where every one now was watching me and the strange Russian picture seller.

“No thanks we have pictures of Jesus” I told him….he tried quickly to come back and flashed a new shiny picture of a unicorn.

“I also have fantasy” he smiled.

“Jesus is fantasy, we have enough of both here thanks, listen mate we are stocked up on crazy in here go sell that shit else where” I laughed and shut the door.

My sister gasped and giggled “Janey that was rude”

“He wasn’t a Russian, selling fucking strange shiny foil pictures, that’s shit” I spat.
“That’s shit” Abi repeated. Then I gasped and sat for a whole hour telling her Aunty Janey says bad words that must never be repeated.

“Is mental patient a bad word?” her big brown eyes looked at me over my sister’s kitchen table, her wee innocent pouting mouth smiling at me.
“No, but Aunty Janey was wrong for teaching you that and you must stop calling everyone it as its not nice” I explained…I forgot I told her that ages ago and she remembered it clearly.
“But that man at the door with shiny pictures is actually a mental patient!” I giggled.
I know I was wrong, but he was nuts.
Well tomorrow is New Years Eve, or later on today actually as this is now after 1am! I am on stage tonight at Jongleurs, hope it all goes well.

Have fun all Janey.