15 October 2009

It's the journey, not the destination.

With the way she carries on - "I've been on my own for twelve years!" - Canned Ham would have you think that since the demise of her marriage she has been a tragic, loveless spinster. The truth is a little different. The Ham has had many suitors and by her own admission has deliberately chosen not to settle down with any of them. She'd prefer to play the field than stake it all on a single...well...stallion.

Recently, one old flame - a rogue by all accounts - has drifted back on to the scene and Ham was going out to dinner with him and a few others last Friday night. She'd mention this approaching dinner every now and then and each time I'd feel compelled to question The Canned One's ability to resist this man's charms.

"Don't go there, hb!" she'd say. Or else she'd vow, "I'm not going there!" And so it went all week. The Ham was not "going there" and no one else was to even contemplate "going there" either. It didn't matter where there was, or what the, er, route, might be like, she was not interested in going, or even being, there, and the rest of us were well advised not to "go there" with regard to whether she went there or not, which she most emphatically wasn't doing.

When I came in to work on Monday and I finally saw The Ham, I asked her, "Well?" A look was all reply I got. Did she go there? Did she not go there? The answer may have to remain a mystery. All I know is, I won't be rifling through her rubbish looking for any ticket stubs.

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