Author Topic: Bonnie vs Gyppo; A pub game: Her bag vs my pockets.  (Read 405 times)

Offline Gyppo

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Bonnie vs Gyppo; A pub game: Her bag vs my pockets.
« on: December 02, 2017, 08:26:24 AM »
   Bonnie vs Gyppo

   Bag vs pockets.

   There was a girl called Bonnie who quite often turned up with the group of girls my wife knew.  She was a bit of a loner, but always welcome when she decided to tag along.  If she came into a pub where there were several recognisable groups she'd float around for a while and then settle with one or another for the rest of the evening.

   A brief description is called for.  Average height, slim, black hair, dark eyes, usually bright red lipstick, (her only obvious make-up), and a generally reserved nature.   Hippy style clothes, but generally the darker colours.  Low profile unless she chose to step forward into the limelight.  (Hey, I've just realised where one of my characters came from.)   Plus her 'capacious woven bag'.

   This bag was legendary amongst her female friends.  Bonnie could always find a solution in there for any problems which arose at work, or when they were out for the evening.

   The first time I met her one of the more ample girls had just popped a button from her blouse, but successfully fished it out of her beer..  "I don't suppose..."  She looked at Bonnie, who rummaged in her bag and produced a little sewing kit.  The button was sewn back on.  With a length of appropriately coloured thread.

   "That's Bonnie, our Miss Fixit."  One of the others said.

   "What if the button had been really lost instead of caught as it popped loose?"  I was genuinely curious.

   Bonnie dug in her bag again and came up with a wide reaching selection of buttons threaded on an oversized safety pin.  The pin, in its turn, had several different sized pins threaded through the loop on the end.

   "He's got stuff you wouldn't believe in his pockets."  My wife nodded at me and the big-bosomed button popper said "That's true.  He's always prepared, like Bonnie.   A proper little Boy Scout.  I'd have asked him if Bonnie wasn't here."

   "I was never a damned scout."  I would have loved some of the activities, but not the rules and that pathetic 'dib dib dob' nonsense.  Smug little bastards.

   "I was never a Girl Guide, " Bonnie countered.  "Too damned organised for my liking."

   The others, by some weird female telepathy, decided to play a game of 'Bonnie's Bag' to pass the time.  They created imaginary problems and Bonnie and I had to produce our own solutions to them.

   In response to Bonnie's collection of pins and buttons I produced a loop of string threaded with several man-appropriate buttons, and a nappy pin tucked behind the lapel on my jacket.  And a card with lengths of white, black, and brown  thread and a couple of decent sized needles.

   I couldn't match her little scissors, but had two knives, one very small and very sharp for fine cutting, plus a Stanley knife blade inset into a double thickness sewn onto my leather belt as a final backup.

   We went through the obvious stuff, like headache pills, plasters, a small roll of electrical tape for holding things together, and matched each other with no problems.  The piles on the table between us grew slowly and other patrons began to take an interest.

   "Something to use as a tourniquet?"  Someone challenged.

   "I prefer direct pressure,"  Bonnie said, "But you can make a great compression bandage from a twisted pair of tights."  An unopened spare pair was slapped down on the table.  "With a pen to tighten it."

   I answered with a eighteen inch length of quarter inch square catapult elastic.  "Self tightening once you tuck the ends under."

   "Paper to make a note."  A stranger chimed in.

   Bonnie had a neat little 'ladies notebook' with a small pen down the spine.

   I had a spiral reporter's note book, with an elastic band as a page marker and a pencil anchored with a length of string.  "Pencil doesn't smudge if it gets wet."

   "What if your pencil breaks?"  Button-Popper, a natural born Devil's Advocate, with the Cornish delight in being contrary just for the joy of 'pissing on someone else's fireworks'.  Usually with no real malice.

   "He'll sharpen it with the little knife."  My wife was definitely on my side so far.  "But Bonnie's pen might dry up."

   Bonnie took out a pencil as well, with a plastic cap protecting the point, and added it silently to her pile.

   I topped this with two more pencils from a slim sleeve pocket.  Next to my fishhook disgorger.  Bonnie, unsurprisingly, didn't have one of the latter, but she had a very similarly sized crochet hook, 'for catching up and anchoring dropped stitches in cardigans before they really start to run'.  Several of the girls attested that she'd fixed problems for them.

   Bonnie had several unopened little packets of tissues for cleaning up spills, mopping blood or spilt beer.  I had a wad of kitchen roll, in a plastic bag to keep it dry until needed.

   I had a small bottle of food flavouring for enhancing fishing bait when the fish were playing hard to get.  Bonnie had a bottle of nail varnish, which she never used for it's intended purpose - being a lass with short practical nails - but for anchoring 'runs' in tights.

   The game went on for at least twenty minutes of challenge and counter challenge, through things like change for the phone,  (No mobile phones back then), and 'get you home' money folded up tight and tucked away so we wouldn't be tempted to use it for anything else.

   "Bet you haven't got one of these.  Bonnie slapped a pretty little beaded purse on the counter.  It seemed very out of character for her, but maybe it was a childhood treasure.

   "Not exactly , but..."  Digging deep into my hidden 'poacher's pocket'.  "A purse net, which doubles as a string bag when the bottom drops out of a cheap plastic carrier."

   There was a nod from Bonnie.  A look into her now much slimmer looking bag.  Then a lengthy pause

   "Are we done?"  I asked, suspecting that like me she still probably had stuff  we didn't intend to show in public.  The euphoria of playing 'one up' can lead to some unwise revelations if you get carried away.  I had a feeling Bonnie, like myself, enjoyed an occasional audience on her own terms but was rarely carried away

   "I think so...   But I'll buy you a drink if you can match this."  She triumphantly slapped a small but rarely used make-up kit on top of her pile.  Most of it was dried up and useless.

   My wife looked at me with some doubts, mixed with a small gleam of female triumph.

   "Will this do?

   A double ended squeeze tube of green and brown Cammo-cream, equally dried up and nearly forgotten.

   We exchanged a look of deep down mutual recognition, shook hands across the table, bought each other a drink by unspoken agreement, and repacked our bag and jacket respectively.

   A grand girl, Bonnie.  We smiled and nodded when we met in the streets afterwards, but that was all.



« Last Edit: December 02, 2017, 10:29:17 AM by Gyppo »


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Re: Bonnie vs Gyppo; A pub game: Her bag vs my pockets.
« Reply #1 on: December 09, 2017, 03:08:14 PM »
I enjoyed that.

Unlike you and Bonnie, I don't carry around a lot of stuff.

A book, my glasses, a pen, paper, an small assortment of cloth produce bags, some change, my phone (though I rarely use it) and of course my keys. Keys and money live in my pocket, the rest has found a home in my backpack.

Jo Bannister

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Re: Bonnie vs Gyppo; A pub game: Her bag vs my pockets.
« Reply #2 on: December 09, 2017, 03:28:03 PM »
Love it, Gyppo. Talk about a pub quiz!

Offline Gyppo

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Re: Bonnie vs Gyppo; A pub game: Her bag vs my pockets.
« Reply #3 on: December 09, 2017, 03:43:25 PM »
It was a long time ago but it's as clear as ever.  One of those evenings that you couldn't plan if you tried.

The real genius was whoever decided to pit us against each other ;-)

Offline fire-fly

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Re: Bonnie vs Gyppo; A pub game: Her bag vs my pockets.
« Reply #4 on: December 09, 2017, 10:16:17 PM »
 ;D ;D

That would have been a fun thing to watch mate.

Wonder where Bonnie is now and if she has upgraded that bag?