Scrolls, palimpsests, and toffees…

But first…
Dulltown, Europe: Today’s colours are: red, white, blue, red, white, blue, red, white, blue, red, white, blue, brown.

‘Brownlow!… Brownlow!…’
‘Brownlow! Is that you?…’
‘I’m here Professor… in the files cupboard.’
‘In God’s name man! What are you doing in there? You are supposed to be opening the crates of finds from the Egyptian dig!…’
‘Oh, I’ve done that sir, I thought that I’d nip in here and sort out the…’
‘Look, I’ve had another bloody email from Professor Muckler at the Smithsonian – he’s being an absolute arse – he seems to disagree with my interpretation of that palimpsest.’
‘What? The scroll from the fish box? I thought that you had sorted out what…’
‘So I did Brownlow… So I did…
‘Yes sir?’
‘Are you eating?’
‘Er, yes sir… it’s just one my Aunt Cissy’s home-made toffees…’
‘And what sir?’
‘Damn it man! Aren’t you going to offer me one, you, you cheapskate?’
‘Oh professor… this is the last one… I thought that, as you are watching your weight now, I’d better not…’
‘Gog’s malison Brownlow!…’
‘Oh Professor, I’m so…’
‘By the way, how is your Aunt Cissy? A fine figure of a woman… your Aunt Cissy…’
‘Oh, she’s very well sir… Er… about the palimpsest?…’
‘Eh? Oh yes… Muckler seems to have got the idea in his head that it’s an important document listing all the temple priests of the Middle Kingdom, and he accuses me of missing the importance of the bloody thing!’
‘But sir, you found it in the foundations of a low status worker’s eating establishment on the bank of the Nile.’
‘Exactly Brownlow… The small building was unusual in design, being based on a nautical theme, and it almost certainly catered just for the fishermen and seafaring people in the area.’
‘But sir, what was Professor Muckler’s objection to your…’
‘He’s a bloody idiot! The scroll was just the result of the owner of the place idly jotting down the current gossip of the shop’s clientele on an old bit of parchment; there was nothing of any significance!…’
‘No sir?’
‘No… I didn’t see anything about priests in it, Muckler probably expected a long report on the thing, but I just emailed him a couple of pithy lines to give him an idea of what it was.’
‘Oh, and what was his response?’
‘He said that he didn’t appreciate my supercilious British humour, and said that I should treat the subject with a bit more respect!… Pompous ass!…
‘Yes sir?’
‘That was the last of Cissy’s home-made toffees then?’
‘Yes, I’m sorry sir, I…’
‘Damn! I really fancy one now… Did they have, those nice hazelnuts in them?’
‘Er… yes, they did…’
‘So what exactly did you say in your email to Professor Muckler?’
‘All I said was, that all the text was just some ordinary chap’s ship-shaped cheap chip shop chalked chit-chat…’
‘What was that again sir?’
‘You heard me Brownlow!… Are you trying to be funny!?’
‘No, no Professor… Er… did you say it was ‘chalked’ lettering sir?’
‘Yes. What of it?…’
‘Well maybe the chalked lettering wasn’t the thing that… Maybe the fainter lettering underneath the…’
‘Oh blood and sand!… Damn and blast!…’
‘Shall I make you a cup of tea sir?’

About Dave Whatt

Grumpy old surrealist artist, musician, postcard maker, bluesman, theatre set designer, and debonair man-about-town. My favourite tools are the plectrum and the pencil...
This entry was posted in archeology, brain, colours, conversation, expletives, Grumpiness, history, humour, serendipity, surrealism, Uncategorized, words and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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