An Improbable Courtship

Only in one area did Bernard display a pleasing quirkiness and sense of community eccentricity: that was in the Lower Saddleworth Jousting and Knightly Courtesies club, of which he was club secretary and a long serving member. Following a Saturday morning cutting some shapes on the village green, he was now in a café with his morning coffee, pleasingly unaware that being a man in a full suite of armour, and with the sun glinting off his visor, might present an unusual figure to the locals.

The problem he had, which he had not yet communicated, was that the visor had become jammed during that morning’s high-jinks, and he did not have the nerve to ask the café owner for a straw small enough to slip through the tiny apertures insisted on by the health and safety committee so that a knight, thus encased, could continue to breath.

Just when all seemed lost, and the coffee was about to cool below those temperatures generally recognised as offering the most pleasure to the drinker, a glamorous blond sat down in front of him and said, “My knight in shining armour. How are you darling?” Bernard may have returned her smile, but we have no way of verifying that. Still, unusually forward for a man with his social caution, he said, “My Visor’s stuck.”

“What’s that my darling, my little chickadee, my bold warrior” said the glamorous blond and Bernard repeated the information. Without further ado she removed a nail file from her well-equipped handbag, fiddled around with the visor for a few seconds until, sure enough, it opened to reveal the face of Bernard, complete with pale moustache and steamed-up glasses. “You’ve got lovely eyes” she said and started laughing, while Bernard quickly attacked the coffee now within a half-degree of ruin.

“Are you married?” she asked and Bernard shook his head. “Are you living with anyone; in a serious relationship; or the victim of any weird impulses? Bernard kept shaking his head. The women, later revealed as Beatrice, smiled and said, “A Knight in shining armour and still available: lucky me. You can buy me lunch”

Thus it was that Bernard, the unluckiest of men, got pinned against the wall by good fortune and offered a fresh start in life. She, it transpired, was his missing link, and they were married within three months. To see the pair of them setting off to local Jousting events suitably attired, and with a small can of emergency oil in her maiden’s handbag, was to see how happiness can bloom in the most unlikely circumstance, and those who see life without hope can still be saved by chance.

About Peter Wells aka Countingducks

Trying to remember what my future is
This entry was posted in character, creative writing, Fiction, humour, Peter Wells, Romance, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

18 Responses to An Improbable Courtship

  1. Lucy Brazier says:

    I want nothing more than to be courted by a fellow named Bernard.


  2. What a lovely, hopeful tale, and I like the role reversal motif.


  3. ksbeth says:

    for me, ever the optimist and hopeful romantic, bernard is my hero.


  4. Go, Beatrice! A role model worthy of the changing times. Who says chivalry is dead?


  5. caminodetim says:

    What a predicament. You are hilarious.


  6. Thanks that was a cool short yarn
    Now i’m gonna put on a suit of armor on and hang out at starbucks. 👍🏼😎


  7. Wow, and she didn’t even ask…why the wacky suit?!


  8. Al says:

    Just goes to show, even a full metal jacket can’t protect you when the enemy is in full frontal assault.


  9. tiostib says:

    Thanks! I needed that!


  10. gotham girl says:

    This is just excellent!


  11. Ben Ezard says:

    With such an economy of words you paint an elaborate picture, Peter


  12. What drew her in the first place? Must have been the mystery and intrigue of the visor. Yup that would do it for me too.


  13. And a good cup of coffee.


  14. Scarlet says:

    Awwww…. a happy ending! I carry all manner of useful things in my handbag, I suppose I live in hope of being a heroine.


  15. Anu says:

    Victim of weird impulses, 😀. Indeed all of in some way!


  16. A metaphor,I assume. And it’s true; the armour doesn’t change, but the joints grow more rusty with the years. In the personal sense, I’m a little short on glamorous blondes, though, unfortunately.


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