Things happen to me that simply don’t happen to anyone else. My friends call me Mme Catastrophe and my disasters are memorable, so much so that they are planning to send me on holiday just so they can tell everyone my latest escapade.
I don’t think that I was born like this, I am sure my mother agrees and I have no tales to tell of my childhood. However I have certainly had many episodes starting in my teens and have continued to have Mme Catastrophe tales to tell that make my friends roll about laughing.
I once had a boyfriend who whisked me away to a very smart hotel in the New Forest. While we were sipping our cocktails a woman appeared and asked if we would like to go riding in the morning. We both said yes and so she asked my boyfriend how much he weighed (I know he lied) and how much riding experience he had. Then as she turned towards me he said that I was very experienced. I hadn’t ridden for years but went along with his description of my equestrian skills.
Come the morning we were led to the stables – my boyfriend was given a horse that looked so bored he was yawning – the horse not the boyfriend. The lady said that I could have a horse with the cheery words “He is new here but I am sure you can handle him”. I should have known. We set off at a cracking pace with my horse charging all over the place no matter what I did. As cantered along I could see a thorn bush which I thought we might jump only a child on a tiny pony veered across us as which point my horse stopped dead and I fell off backwards into the bush. The rest of the weekend saw me flat on my face with the boyfriend pulling out the thorns. There were shrieks of laughter when I told the tale. I didn’t mind, I do like giving my friends a good story to tell at dinner parties.
Another of my totally embarrassing moments came when my husband and I were invited to an extremely posh fashion show. It was one where you whisper your name to a chap at the top of the stairs and he duly roars it out in case anyone didn’t know who we were. The stair case was very long – I misjudged the steps, took one step and promptly slid all the way to the bottom. Two chaps hauled me to my feet and one went to find me a glass of champagne for giving them such a laugh. My husband was nowhere in sight having decided to pretend he didn’t know me. Nil points to him.
The first husband (don’t ask!) was a Doctor and applied for a job as a GP. I was asked if could come along too. The barrage of questions seemed to last hours but I am sure it wasn’t really. The partners of the practice interviewed me as well. There were a couple of tricky questions such as did he smoke, they looked at me to answer that question so I lied through my teeth and said no.
Then they asked me what was his worst habit – I almost said not emptying the ashtray but one look from him made me hastily change it to leaving his clothes on the floor. We came to leave and as I was shaking hands I could feel my petticoat sliding downwards so I grabbed it with both my hands. They all saw that mishap and he didn’t get the job. I am sure it was nothing to do with the descent of my underwear! Do you know he didn’t speak one word to me all the way home – two hours of total silence? There wasn’t a lot to say!
Holidays are always a bit of a disaster for me. There are so many it almost impossible to think which the worst was. Barbados and bikinis spring to mind. A gaggle of friends decided it would be fun to hire a house in Barbados. It sounded like a good idea at the time and it indeed was until we were all lying on sun beds around the swimming pool. Getting rather hot I decided to show off my dives. I won plenty of prizes at school for this particular sport.
I decided that a Buckle dive was called for – my bikini thought otherwise and as I dived into the pool my bikini bottoms came off completely. Roars of laughter from my friends as I swam around trying to not only catch the offending article but put it back on without displaying too much flesh. Photographs were taken which I thought was a tiny bit unfair but I suppose I just put it down to yet another disaster.
I have many more embarrassing incidences but I would love to know yours so that for once it is me laughing instead of others.
By Jane Buckle
