An open letter to the staff at the BP along the A-Road we traveled last Saturday;
The Current Mrs Six & I would like to offer our sincerest apologies to the staff (especially the smokers) of the BP along the A-road we traveled along last Saturday afternoon. The events were unfortunate but completely unavoidable and have been on my mind all week.
Let me describe the events as they unfolded. They are not an excuse, but may at least give context to the horror you will discover;
Part way on the journey to visit Nanny Six & Taidy Six the Little Miss Six declared the immortally inconvenient words “I need a wee wee” from the back seat. Despite all of our best efforts to enforce a sensible regime in the Six family household of going to the loo before a drive the system had fallen apart that particular morning and the required tinkle had not taken place. Knowing that your establishment was just a short distance ahead we elected to hurry the journey along and proceeded to verbally encourage bladder control on the little tyke.
Arriving at your garage we were discouraged to find a large sign on the door displaying the fateful words; “No Toilet Facilities”! Wondering whether we could reach the Little Chef further down the road we took a quick look at Little Miss Six’s face (and jiggling leg) and had our worse fears confirmed that the flow was imminent. (I have, to this date, not seen a look of flushed-red concentration on her before, or after this event) As many a parent before us, we elected to take her for a quick trip into the bushes behind your premises and let her go au naturelle. The current Mrs Six unstrapped her and the two of them toddled off while I moved the car to a more sensible spot not obstructing your pumps.
As I hummed away & drummed along on the steering wheel to the music on my stereo awaiting their return I glimpsed in the rear-view the current Mrs Six rush out of the bushes with Little Miss Six bundled in her arms and proceed to hot foot it over to the car. She hurriedly opened the passenger door, threw Little Miss Six into her chair, strapped her in quick-time, and then leaped into her own seat exclaiming – “get going”
The following conversation then took place;
Me: “What’s the matter?” (My head was running away with me – I had images of dodgy flashers in the bushes or a sighting of Big Foot)
Mrs Six: “She didn’t need a wee…”
Me: “What’s the problem then?”
Mrs Six: “She needed a poo!”
Me: “So… OK… worse things have happened, you were in the bushes”
Mrs Six: “Well… you see… there’s a smoking area for the staff back there and… well… they’re in for a surprise when they take their next smoke break…”
So – our sincerest apologies for your unpleasant experience, probably when you tried to catch a quick ciggie through a gruelling day’s work. Believe me; I deal with her shit all the time (In the literal & non-literal sense) so I know how objectionable it can be.
We have no excuse for ourselves… we are filthy beasts…
Mr & Mrs Six