Hey, have you seen this? It's outrageous!
I shoogled my phone at the Good Lady in that way that 21st-century people do because they don't have printed newspapers anymore to shake and harrumph with.
Kinda busy here Daddy-Bear.
The Good Lady was glaring at her phone as it said things in a strangely alluring female Finnish accent.
Han on velho.
Her phone said flirtatiously.
Bloody DuoLingo, why is it obsessed with Wizards!?
She tossed her phone to the side and glared at me.
Right, saltyballs. What were you interrupting my Finnish lesson for?
She chuckled as if having balls saltier than the sea was something not to be proud of. Ha, just wait till she found out that we hadn't actually had any parmesan for months. Enjoy your pasta now, woman.
This... Look, it's madness. Look at the cash involved!!
I handed over my phone to the Good Lady so she could see the article I was reading. It was a piece about the rise of Governesses in the UK.
The last time I had ever heard the term Governess it had been in an Enid Blyton novel from my childhood way back in the Mesozoic era.
*Governess
noun
(especially in former times) a woman employed to teach children in a private household.*
I had thought them to be as dead as the dinosaurs I had rode in on that morning but no. It seemed as though they yet lived. Not just living but thriving.
It says there that they can earn £1300 a week for governessing?!!?
I puffed up my cheeks so I looked like the fat Scottish singer of that band Marillion no-one has ever heard of.
The Good Lady looked uneasy.
Well, if people are willing to pay then well done to those that can fill the niche?
She passed my phone back warily as if it were a donkey's penis which was sweating and twitching in that don't cut the red wire kind of way.
1300 smackers for teaching some kids how to sing baa baa black sheep. I mean, that's pretty awesome.
I could feel my eyes growing shiny and round at the thought of such untold riches falling from the sky.
Hey, I hope you arent hinting for me to start advertising to be a Governess. I have told you, I will look for a job when the time is right.
The Good Lady folded her arms defensively across her squeakers.
I threw my head back and laughed long and loud.
You? No, my darling. I wasn't hinting for you to do it at all!
I slapped my thigh because I had seen someone in a movie do it once to signify mirth and thought it would read well when it came time to write this tale.
I meant me!
I beamed at her.
What? How would that work, you're not in any way a governess?
The Good Lady snorted, lowering her head and pawing her leathery hooves at the carpet.
I nodded. She had a point.
Ha, you are right. I will have to fashion some kind of old meaty vagina thing to wear.
A meaty what?! Ugh, you are disgusting sometimes. Anyway, it's not about vaginas its about teaching kids. You don't have any experience teaching kids!
She looked exasperated as if I had asked her to unblock the hoover again.
Dont know about teaching? I'd teach them pesky kids alright. I would teach them with my bloody vagina!
I grinned and cupped my hands as if tickling fish in a river and throwing them at her.
Oh my word. Please tell me you didnt just go there? Have you any idea what you just said?
The Good Lady looked appalled and shook her head.
What, whats wrong with saying that? Goodness me, are you saying you would prefer it if I said I would teach the little blighters with my penis????
Now it was my turn to look appalled. I turned away from the Good Lady and tutted.
God's, woman. What are you, some kind of monster?
Grunting in disgust at her, I got up and headed into the kitchen for more coffee.
You think you know someone...