Living the life
Posted: Sat Nov 20, 2010 7:52 am
Big Dolly first arrived in Luxor under a cloud, which is better than going out under one , as many of the Europeans seem to these days here, Actually she had to be covered with a bin liner, head to toe, Luxor was not quite ready for her, and after all it was Ramadam.
Some on this site may remember I invited Big Dolly to the opening night of the WB literary Club, she never made it,
However as a direct result of that ferry journey, Dolly's life never looked back. She opened a shop on the south side of Luxor, not far from the railway tracks, where very often the people would wave to from passing trains, as she sat there radiantly glowing under a red light. It was one day last week that I thought to visit her. I entered the building and climbed the steps to her first floor shop, passing a few men loitering on the stairs; as often is the case in this town. I pressed the bell, instantaniouslly Long Tall Sally opened the door. "Come in A-four" her gruff voice demanded; Sally is all of 6 foot 4, large hands, pronounced adams apple and loves court shoes in beige and stone. The last pair I bought in London, such shoes one may find quite difficult to aquire these days , but in a size 12! Well that was an adventure in itself.
The two lights above Dolly's room changed from red to green, "You better go in A-four", Long Tall Sally instructed. "Shall I take a chewing gum in with me," I asked. Dolly always demands all her clients take a gum before a reading, she can not stand the smell of garlic when she is working. "I don't think that will be necassary for you A-four." she stated.
I entered Dolly's office, there sat a man sweating profusely, evidently it had been a very difficult reading for him. Dolly sat by his side holding his hand. At once , Dolly took out a Senior Service. Tapped it on the back of the packet, as you do with the none tipped variety and lite it with the aid of a rolled gold Dunhill lighter. She dragged the lite cigarette from her mouth and exhailed the smoke, a true Betty Davis interview moment. "So.......how are you A-four." She asked. "Wonderful", I declared. "I've brought you a sack full of videos for you. I had taped every episode of 'Trisha' and ' Deal or no deal', for her and Long Tall Sally. The former program they both watch avidly. Quite often Dolly will point to one of the central characters, stating "He was one of my punters in the UK". Her name there was Gypsy Dolly - some of you on here may now realise who she is. As for the latter program, Dolly sits watching this mesmerised, "What is it with these people in the UK, these days, a few thousand sterl;ing being 'Life changing money' hav'ent any of them got a por to p...... in."
I thought it would be prudent at this point to inform Dolly to the fact that Squeezie - jet are calling in on Luxor. She then told me - that it might work out cheaper for punters to come to Luxor, rather than having a reading done in the West End of London, plus a suntan to boot. I could sense all this whirling around in Dolly's mind. A telephone call was placed, within seconds one of those huge police wagons appeared outside Dolly's shop. "Let us go" demanded Dolly. As we decended the stairs we came across the same few unsavoury charactors I saw on the way up, Dolly simply waved her hand several times, "Bookra, Bookra" she said; what ever that means, I don't know. We arrived at the back of the wagon, without warning the door flung open. "Good God." I declared, the inside was a tardis. Surely, I told her, this must belong to a very kind soul, on the WB. "It belongs to me, get in A-four." Dolly instructed.
Inside the tardis, I curiouslly observed the innards with its mural pappered walls, with a splattering of pebble dash. Goodness, far the opposite corner was a little old native lady sat squat on the floor sucking on a bong. (Smoking utensil, much loved by older ladies of Upper Egypt, though never seen by your average awaja.) In between each puff of the bong she spat out the discarded shells of beetle nuts; with such accuracy to the far side of the wagon, that even Garry Linnaker, (of Leicester and England fame.) would have been proud.The tardis was further furnished with two easy chairs, a huge bed and at the rear two red buckets hung from the wall. Identified as No 1 and No 2 which the latter had a lid placed over it. These were not too dissimular to those found on old British Railway stations in case of fire.
For one moment I thought we were travelling to the WB. I suggested to Dolly that we should call on some of the highly cultured Europeans who live there. "Oh dear, dear A-four when has culture put bread on the table." Dolly sneared. From that remark I drew the conclussion we were not to cross the bridge. Suddenly and without warning, our vehicle came to a stop and the back door was flung open. "Where are we." I asked. "We are where a fresh fruit or vegatable has never been seen." Long Tall Sally declared. She was correct, we had arrived in Little Britain. We all pilled out, Dolly noticed a little Dutch restaurant, "Hmm," she said "Reminds me of Amsterdam." I did not bother to ask why. Then she looked across the road to a sign for another establishment that read Snobs. Dolly looked over to Sally and said, "Are they taking the pi##, or what." Dolly now fixed her gaze upon my good self, "There is only one problem here A-four." she said. "What is that." I inquired. "Gravy." she said. "Gravy, why gravy," I groaned. "Well you see, what with all these over-priced European run restaurants here, all the punters would be asking if they could have gravy on it before I do their readings." With that comment we all scrambled back into the wagon.
While we were travelling to our next port of call, I quized Dolly as to how she had aquired such a handsome vehicle. "Its a long story A-four, but I shall give you the quickie version." She went on to tell me that after only one week of the shop opening she had been raided by the boys in black. Been dragged un-serumoniouslly to the dock without a brief and held by two strapping young fellows from the local constabulory. "I felt like JC before the cross, suddenly Pilot, sorry Beak looked up, and the rest is history." she explained. "Good grief." I said. It seems the Beak was one of her old client, way back in the days when he was doing his training for the bar in London. He called in at least once a week for a reading. Case dis-missed. As compensation she was offered the vehicle including driver grattis, so that she could spread the gospel, so to speak, to the WB and other bizarre places. "Why do you think the WB is bizarre" I complained. "Well you are okay A-four, but the rest of the awaja men there actually ask for change after each reading" she snorted, then went on to tell me that the natives request credit. "I would'nt mind" she say "But most of them look as though they would not make it to the following week, and that's before the reading.
There was a sudden jerk, our transportation had come to a halt, we pilled out again. Dolly observed, "Ah" she murmered "Nice little supermarket and a delightful place for afternoon tea, this will do" she declared, and we were off. Dolly picked up the reciever of an old 1950's bacolite phone "Town Hall" she instructed. My God, I thought a direct line to her driver.
We had almost got as far as the old Nova, when without warning Big Dolly's voice boomed, "STOP". I swear had it not been for the armour platting, they would have heard her in Esna. She scowled through the tinted glass window at three European women talking together, "That one" pointing to the middle of the three. Long Tall Sally scowled at the woman then and immeadiatly went to the buckets "Which one", asked Sally. Big Dolly thought for a moment "Yes, No 1" was the responce. With that, Sally grabbed the bucket, ejected herself from the back of the wagon and threw the whole contents of the bucket over this person, from head to foot. Without a word being said Sally returned to the wagon as quickly as she had left. As I looked at the three, I observed an expression of dumbness that bordered on stupification. I looked at Dolly shocked "A-four, she should be greatful it was not No 2 " she insisted. I then learnt that each morning between 5 and 6, when business is slack, Long Tall Sally scans the local websites for any crass statements of jealousy by the Europeans, mostly British, I might add.
We arrive at the Town Hall and un-ceromoniously clamber out of the wagon. We enter the building, then climb the staircase to the Council Chamber,it seems Dolly has been here before. Without being announced Dolly opens both of the double doors. My good self and Sally wait outside. I noticed five men sat in a simular fashion to that Dragon's Den of B.B.C. fame. Dolly gave each of the dragons a chewing gum to examine, then walked to the centre of the chamber raised an arm and stated "I have a dream." With that the doors closed and we hear no more.
Ten minutes later, the doors were flung open, I could see the dragons, all sat opened mouthed with glazed expressions looking towards where Dolly had given her sermon, but now she stood before us. The sun was setting and seemed to rest just above her head. Behold - before us stood the transfiguration of Big Dolly - she had become Britannicus Gloriana. She seemed to float towards us, at that very moment a weezly voice from inside the chamber called, "We'll let you know, Dolly." Dolly with out even turning raised her right arm, more in salute than anything else. " Our work here is done, let us depart." As we decended the stairscase I could hear a croud of native women shouting "She is the mother." or something like that. As we climbed into the wagon, there was a great throng of voice "She - mutter! She - mutter!" they sang, and threw small pebbles at us, As we moved off, I enlightened Dolly to the present goings on around the WB.
Suddenly we were at the ferry, and I got out, Dolly's final comment was "Well, I hope they don't think they are going to stick a light up our tree or bush." Hold on, I thought, Dolly has no garden, not even a window box! But it was too late, the wagon door had closed and they were off. Bringing up the rear was her new disciples all shouting "She's the mutter." or was that Shar-mutter, ah well you learn something new every day in Luxor.
Welcome to the new sights of Luxor.
A - Four.
Some on this site may remember I invited Big Dolly to the opening night of the WB literary Club, she never made it,
However as a direct result of that ferry journey, Dolly's life never looked back. She opened a shop on the south side of Luxor, not far from the railway tracks, where very often the people would wave to from passing trains, as she sat there radiantly glowing under a red light. It was one day last week that I thought to visit her. I entered the building and climbed the steps to her first floor shop, passing a few men loitering on the stairs; as often is the case in this town. I pressed the bell, instantaniouslly Long Tall Sally opened the door. "Come in A-four" her gruff voice demanded; Sally is all of 6 foot 4, large hands, pronounced adams apple and loves court shoes in beige and stone. The last pair I bought in London, such shoes one may find quite difficult to aquire these days , but in a size 12! Well that was an adventure in itself.
The two lights above Dolly's room changed from red to green, "You better go in A-four", Long Tall Sally instructed. "Shall I take a chewing gum in with me," I asked. Dolly always demands all her clients take a gum before a reading, she can not stand the smell of garlic when she is working. "I don't think that will be necassary for you A-four." she stated.
I entered Dolly's office, there sat a man sweating profusely, evidently it had been a very difficult reading for him. Dolly sat by his side holding his hand. At once , Dolly took out a Senior Service. Tapped it on the back of the packet, as you do with the none tipped variety and lite it with the aid of a rolled gold Dunhill lighter. She dragged the lite cigarette from her mouth and exhailed the smoke, a true Betty Davis interview moment. "So.......how are you A-four." She asked. "Wonderful", I declared. "I've brought you a sack full of videos for you. I had taped every episode of 'Trisha' and ' Deal or no deal', for her and Long Tall Sally. The former program they both watch avidly. Quite often Dolly will point to one of the central characters, stating "He was one of my punters in the UK". Her name there was Gypsy Dolly - some of you on here may now realise who she is. As for the latter program, Dolly sits watching this mesmerised, "What is it with these people in the UK, these days, a few thousand sterl;ing being 'Life changing money' hav'ent any of them got a por to p...... in."
I thought it would be prudent at this point to inform Dolly to the fact that Squeezie - jet are calling in on Luxor. She then told me - that it might work out cheaper for punters to come to Luxor, rather than having a reading done in the West End of London, plus a suntan to boot. I could sense all this whirling around in Dolly's mind. A telephone call was placed, within seconds one of those huge police wagons appeared outside Dolly's shop. "Let us go" demanded Dolly. As we decended the stairs we came across the same few unsavoury charactors I saw on the way up, Dolly simply waved her hand several times, "Bookra, Bookra" she said; what ever that means, I don't know. We arrived at the back of the wagon, without warning the door flung open. "Good God." I declared, the inside was a tardis. Surely, I told her, this must belong to a very kind soul, on the WB. "It belongs to me, get in A-four." Dolly instructed.
Inside the tardis, I curiouslly observed the innards with its mural pappered walls, with a splattering of pebble dash. Goodness, far the opposite corner was a little old native lady sat squat on the floor sucking on a bong. (Smoking utensil, much loved by older ladies of Upper Egypt, though never seen by your average awaja.) In between each puff of the bong she spat out the discarded shells of beetle nuts; with such accuracy to the far side of the wagon, that even Garry Linnaker, (of Leicester and England fame.) would have been proud.The tardis was further furnished with two easy chairs, a huge bed and at the rear two red buckets hung from the wall. Identified as No 1 and No 2 which the latter had a lid placed over it. These were not too dissimular to those found on old British Railway stations in case of fire.
For one moment I thought we were travelling to the WB. I suggested to Dolly that we should call on some of the highly cultured Europeans who live there. "Oh dear, dear A-four when has culture put bread on the table." Dolly sneared. From that remark I drew the conclussion we were not to cross the bridge. Suddenly and without warning, our vehicle came to a stop and the back door was flung open. "Where are we." I asked. "We are where a fresh fruit or vegatable has never been seen." Long Tall Sally declared. She was correct, we had arrived in Little Britain. We all pilled out, Dolly noticed a little Dutch restaurant, "Hmm," she said "Reminds me of Amsterdam." I did not bother to ask why. Then she looked across the road to a sign for another establishment that read Snobs. Dolly looked over to Sally and said, "Are they taking the pi##, or what." Dolly now fixed her gaze upon my good self, "There is only one problem here A-four." she said. "What is that." I inquired. "Gravy." she said. "Gravy, why gravy," I groaned. "Well you see, what with all these over-priced European run restaurants here, all the punters would be asking if they could have gravy on it before I do their readings." With that comment we all scrambled back into the wagon.
While we were travelling to our next port of call, I quized Dolly as to how she had aquired such a handsome vehicle. "Its a long story A-four, but I shall give you the quickie version." She went on to tell me that after only one week of the shop opening she had been raided by the boys in black. Been dragged un-serumoniouslly to the dock without a brief and held by two strapping young fellows from the local constabulory. "I felt like JC before the cross, suddenly Pilot, sorry Beak looked up, and the rest is history." she explained. "Good grief." I said. It seems the Beak was one of her old client, way back in the days when he was doing his training for the bar in London. He called in at least once a week for a reading. Case dis-missed. As compensation she was offered the vehicle including driver grattis, so that she could spread the gospel, so to speak, to the WB and other bizarre places. "Why do you think the WB is bizarre" I complained. "Well you are okay A-four, but the rest of the awaja men there actually ask for change after each reading" she snorted, then went on to tell me that the natives request credit. "I would'nt mind" she say "But most of them look as though they would not make it to the following week, and that's before the reading.
There was a sudden jerk, our transportation had come to a halt, we pilled out again. Dolly observed, "Ah" she murmered "Nice little supermarket and a delightful place for afternoon tea, this will do" she declared, and we were off. Dolly picked up the reciever of an old 1950's bacolite phone "Town Hall" she instructed. My God, I thought a direct line to her driver.
We had almost got as far as the old Nova, when without warning Big Dolly's voice boomed, "STOP". I swear had it not been for the armour platting, they would have heard her in Esna. She scowled through the tinted glass window at three European women talking together, "That one" pointing to the middle of the three. Long Tall Sally scowled at the woman then and immeadiatly went to the buckets "Which one", asked Sally. Big Dolly thought for a moment "Yes, No 1" was the responce. With that, Sally grabbed the bucket, ejected herself from the back of the wagon and threw the whole contents of the bucket over this person, from head to foot. Without a word being said Sally returned to the wagon as quickly as she had left. As I looked at the three, I observed an expression of dumbness that bordered on stupification. I looked at Dolly shocked "A-four, she should be greatful it was not No 2 " she insisted. I then learnt that each morning between 5 and 6, when business is slack, Long Tall Sally scans the local websites for any crass statements of jealousy by the Europeans, mostly British, I might add.
We arrive at the Town Hall and un-ceromoniously clamber out of the wagon. We enter the building, then climb the staircase to the Council Chamber,it seems Dolly has been here before. Without being announced Dolly opens both of the double doors. My good self and Sally wait outside. I noticed five men sat in a simular fashion to that Dragon's Den of B.B.C. fame. Dolly gave each of the dragons a chewing gum to examine, then walked to the centre of the chamber raised an arm and stated "I have a dream." With that the doors closed and we hear no more.
Ten minutes later, the doors were flung open, I could see the dragons, all sat opened mouthed with glazed expressions looking towards where Dolly had given her sermon, but now she stood before us. The sun was setting and seemed to rest just above her head. Behold - before us stood the transfiguration of Big Dolly - she had become Britannicus Gloriana. She seemed to float towards us, at that very moment a weezly voice from inside the chamber called, "We'll let you know, Dolly." Dolly with out even turning raised her right arm, more in salute than anything else. " Our work here is done, let us depart." As we decended the stairscase I could hear a croud of native women shouting "She is the mother." or something like that. As we climbed into the wagon, there was a great throng of voice "She - mutter! She - mutter!" they sang, and threw small pebbles at us, As we moved off, I enlightened Dolly to the present goings on around the WB.
Suddenly we were at the ferry, and I got out, Dolly's final comment was "Well, I hope they don't think they are going to stick a light up our tree or bush." Hold on, I thought, Dolly has no garden, not even a window box! But it was too late, the wagon door had closed and they were off. Bringing up the rear was her new disciples all shouting "She's the mutter." or was that Shar-mutter, ah well you learn something new every day in Luxor.
Welcome to the new sights of Luxor.
A - Four.
:lol::lol:
a bit like the time that the boxer Chris Eubanks thought that the crowd were chanting his name "Eu banker, Eu banker" after one of his fights. 
Its just habit I guess 
