9
Crusty Goes On A Steak-Out
(and Does Some Investigating!)
Read 2 chapters tonight Mollie, trying to catch up a bit. Just read about the jellyfish, yuk!!
Agree with the others its such a shame that these have never been published. Just a thought but have you tried contacting the editor of your local paper with a view to possibly publishing one chapter a week, Crusty could get quite a following - just a thought!
Oh dear, poor Bel, she does have a tough time with Crusty 
Thanks for that idea Marian. I may well have a go at that. 
Carmen, he ain’t even started yet. :twisted:
Read 3 chapters tonight Mollie…really getting into Crusty and actually felt sorry for him when they put the sandwich board over him 
Glad you’re catching up lass. Believe me, that’s not the worst thing that ever happens to him. 
Just about to put the next chapter on now, although I am a bit late tonight.
[B][CENTER]23
Crusty Sails the High Seas
(and Shows Off His Dancing Skills!)[/CENTER][/B]
That was four months ago.
That night he’d gone to bed miserable. He’d had a wonderful time at the Club and thought Bel had enjoyed it too. She had, until he’d started acting daft again. He always had to spoil things.
That night she’d gone to bed bloody angry. She’d been having a great time and thought Crusty would try to behave himself for once. She didn’t believe he would ever change, so she had to do some thinking.
She’d two choices. Either, she stayed with him, put up and shut up or she could get rid of him for good.
She had a lot of thinking to do.
This morning after he’d got out of his pit, Crusty had gone into the bathroom. He saw the four pack of soap that his Crustabel had bought him back in November and remembered what she’d said. He ran the hot tap to fill the washbasin and opened one of the packets. He sniffed at it. Mmmmm, smelt like lemons. Tentatively he stuck his hands into the warm water and started lathering up. He had to admit, it did smell nice.
He knew he had fences to mend with Bel and had decided to go to her house to offer his apologies. He dried his face and combed his eight strands of hair from the right over to the left side of his head. He had no gelatine left to glue it to his head, so he just hoped there was no wind today.
There was a loud knock on his front door.
“Who the ‘ell can that be at this time o’ day?” he muttered.
He put on his dressing gown and kippers then went downstairs. He opened the door. It was only old septic knuckles, the rent man, coming for his dues and demands so Crusty paid him then went back upstairs.
He got dressed and, without thinking, popped the OBJ over his head. On went his old brown jacket that Bel had washed for him, put his trousers and loafers on then went out to his car.
He arrived at Crustabel’s and knocked on the knocker and leant heavily on the door bell at the same time.
Thump, thump, thump, rrrrring!
As he was waiting for her to answer, a huge gust of wind blew his hair back to the other side of his head again just as she opened the door and squealed with fright.
“Wot the bluddy hell hast getten on thi’ shooder? It favvers a bluddy hairy-arsed tarantula!”
He quickly combed the strands back with his fingers, blushing.
“Sorry Bel. It’s your Crusty come a-calling. Canna come in please?”
Without another word she opened the door wider so that he could enter, and then she motioned for him to go into her living room. He sat down on the settee with her and started burbling apologies.
“Shurrup ya silly owd fart! We’ll let bygones be bygones. But wot’s wrong Crusty? Ya look as if ya’ve lost weight!”
“Yeh I have a bit. I’ve been so miserable without ya thar’even I’ve not been aytein’ like I usually do.”
That could easily be put right.
During the course of his visit they became friends again. Sometimes she had to let him fester for a month or so to make him realise just what he’d done. He sometimes didn’t know what it was he’d said or done to upset her and, because she couldn’t get it through to him any other way, she had to just stop talking to him or seeing him, for the penny to drop.
She hated not being friends with him.
Because he thought the world of her he’d always come round in the end and apologised to her for misbehaving.
As Crustabel had so aptly put it when deliberating his fate when they fell out, it was probably better having him around as he was, than not at all. Half a loaf’s better than none she’d concluded.
Still, he’d made a special effort this time as he’d turned out in really bad weather to see her. It was now early April but the snow was crisp and, because the drive had been difficult, he had been plum tuckered out when he’d arrived. It was also evident that he’d had one of his special washes as she could smell the lemon soap she’d bought him. She didn’t realise though that it was the first time he’d used the soap in nearly four months!!
“D’ya fancy playing some board games owd lad, while this weather’s bad?”
“If ya likes Bel, bur’am not very good at games!”
She got out her box of Cluedo and asked him which piece he wanted to play with.
“I want to be Professor Plum please Bel!”
“Okay, I’ll be Colonel Mustard!”
They whiled away an hour or two with Bel winning every game.
She then went into the kitchen to make them a snack and a mug of tea and while she was out of the room he had a good look round. The nineteen fifties bric-a-brac and wall hangings were a wonderful reminder of that era. He would remind Crustabel on her return of the time when he’d hypnotised himself with the wall clock. He’d never told her about that properly and what he’d remembered from that wonderful decade.
Suddenly he spotted some brochures on a shelf under the coffee table. He got one out and thumbed through it just as she came back with the tea and butties.
“Are ya planning another holiday Bel?”
“Yes, I’m going to the Norfolk Broads, why?”
“On yer own?”
“Oh I’ve been many times before. It’s only easy navigating a canal boat. Its great fun, you should try it!”
She could have bitten off her own tongue. She realised too late what she was saying.
Crusty clapped his hands.
“Thanks Bel, I’d love to.”
“Oh boy!” she muttered pulling her face.
“Ah ya can’t catch me out Bel. That was sung by Buddy Holly in 1958! Amma reet?”
He was.
She was planning the holiday for mid-May and Crusty couldn’t wait. He went round every charity shop he could find for the necessities he’d need for the holiday.
I thought that might surprise you.
If he were going boating he would have to have the right clothing. He went to car boot sales and jumble sales also and bought quite a few items, absolutely necessary if he was to become a Captain of the high seas! Sailing was in his blood.
He relished the thought of taking a leisurely sail along the canals. If he was on water, in a boat, what mischief could he possibly get up to? He wasn’t going to let Bel down again. On the contrary, he was going to make her very proud to be with him.
Yeh, yeh!
The day finally arrived and Crusty had packed his “new” belongings into his carrier bags, together with some of his older things. It was a long drive to Norfolk so they were setting off at six in the morning.
Crusty was ready when she arrived to pick him up and off they went on their journey. Several hours and three pee stops later they arrived, alighted from the car and stretched their limbs. They had stopped a couple of times on the way down for refreshments.
“I’m looking forward to a good feed Bel. Worra ya cooking?”
“Are you joking? I’ve just driven all this way so I’ve no intention of cooking, not today anyway. No, there’s a great little pub just along the canal towpath and they cook really excellent food. It’s called The Noshery so we’ll go there!”
She parked the car and Crusty got their bags, which he carried along to the office through which Bel had booked their boat, he assumed. Keys handed over they went to the boat which was moored just a short walk from where she’d parked her car. That was a bit of luck thought Crusty and said so.
Well, not really. Bel had been going there for a few years and she was known to be a lady of a certain age, and alone, so they’d always accommodated her well.
They got on the boat and, as they had a cabin each, they both went to unpack their belongings before there were too many creases. Bel had no intention of doing any ironing on this trip either, and who could blame her?
By the time they’d sorted themselves out they were both starving so they took themselves off to The Noshery. There were quite a few people in and the place was really lively.
“Crusty’s going to like it here, Bel!”
“Oh yes it is nice isn’t it, but don’t forget Crusty, our boat will be going to different places!”
“Oh aye! I hadn’t thowt o’ that!”
They ate their food and chatted to the other holidaymakers and spent a couple of hours just eating, drinking and relaxing. This was lovely.
Crusty was behaving himself and acting like he was half human or something and Bel was grateful for small mercies.
The weather was still cold and there was a huge coal fire burning in the grate. Crusty sat by it staring into the flames. It had been a long time since he’d seen a real fire and it was glorious.
Crusty didn’t want to go out in the cold again but they had to, so Bel dragged him up and back to the boat.
“Come on ya fat lazy owd fart. We’ve got to go!”
They went into the well-equipped lounge and Bel told Crusty that, strictly speaking, there were only lounges on boats, in hotels and Clubs, but never in homes.
Crusty didn’t know that.
“Wot d’ya want to watch on telly lad?”
“Telly Bel? I didn’t know there was a telly. Great!”
She had a programme guide and they started to browse through it.
“There’s a pie-on-the-wall documentary?”
“Nah!”
“There’s another programme about the innovation of jazz music. Apparently somebody called Jelly Roll Morton invented it?”
“Nah!”
Neither of them liked jazz.
“Neh look here owd lad. This is more up your street. “Hounds of the Baskervilles” with Basil Rathbone?”
They looked at each other and both shook their heads at the same time.
“Nah!”
“Well wor’about this then?” said Crustabel pointing at the paper.
“Oh yes, thackle be okay Bel.”
They both loved to watch this.
They sat back and watched Jelly Springroll, the American chat show host. They loved watching everybody battling with each other. Most of the women looked like Crustabel too, overweight and faces like a bag of chisels, but Crusty never said so.
Tired from their journey they retired early and next morning, bright and early, Crustabel prepared the boat for its canal voyage.
When Crusty finally surfaced she nearly went into shock.
“Wot the bluddy hell hast getten on this time Crusty? Who the 'ell d’ya think y’are, bluddy Captain Bligh?”
“It’s me seafaring outfit Bel!” he replied with a big grin.
He was togged out in white trousers two sizes too big, the sort painters and decorators wear. He had on a thick navy blue Aran knit jumper which he’d bought from the Army and Navy Stores and his owd black jacket pulled tightly around him, on which he’d stuck an anchor to the breast pocket with some glue. To top the lot, he’d bought an old peaked cap from somewhere on which he’d glued some gold braid (curtain tie-backs to be precise) and had written CAPTIN on in indelible marker. He hadn’t cut the gold tie-backs to the right size and the tassels dangled down each side of his head which made it look like he had plaits!
“Tha’ favvers bluddy weel again. Tha’ favvers Captain bluddy Pugwash!”
He started snickering.
“Yo, ho, ho me hearties!!”
She couldn’t help it. She fell about laughing and Crusty didn’t know what she found so funny.
“Oh Crusty. There’s only one like you. They broke the mould after they made you, thank goodness. Come on, givvus a twirl and let’s be having you.”
He grinned and spun round.
“Wor’ave ya done with yer shoulder pads on that jacket? I gave ya two barm cakes to put in there but now yer lop-sided again. Hast etten one of 'em?”
“I were hungry Bel!”
“Yer always bluddy hungry, ya greed owd bugger!”
They went up on deck and Crusty was enjoying himself very much indeed. This was the life.
“A life on the ocean wave, is the only life for me!”
He was singing again!
She punched him in the shoulder and dislodged his ham and pickle barm cake.
“Ouch!”
They were moving at a gentle speed now but were making good progress. She caught him attempting to do the sailor’s hornpipe on deck until she stopped him. She was afraid he might get his feet twisted around the trouser legs and tumble into the drink.
They were passing some lovely views and Bel took a few photographs, including Crusty in some of them. Every time she took a shot he would quickly change his pose and put a daft expression on his face. Well, he always has a daft expression on his face, but you know what I mean.
She popped down below to use the toilet thinking he would be safe if she left him for just two minutes.
When she came back up topside again he was there on deck trying to do the hornpipe again and singing at the top of his voice.
[CENTER]“It’s only me from over the sea
It’s Barnacle Bill the Sailor”[/CENTER]
He was waving at the passing boats, showing off and shouting out “Splice the main brace me hearties!” Then there was more singing.
“Stop it, stop it! I’ll splice thy bluddy main brace! Do you not remember wor’appened the last time ya sang in public?”
He remembered getting his ears boxed by the big German lad so he shut up.
He sat quietly for a while and when Bel looked at him again he had a finger up his nose rooting. She was sick of clouting him but she did so again.
“Crusty, don’t ya know if ya keep doing that the back of yer yed’ll cave in?”
“Will it Bel?”
“Yis!”
“I never knew that.”
They pulled into a lovely little place about ten miles up the river and stopped for lunch. There was a family of four enjoying a riparian meal in the afternoon sun, even though the weather was still cold, but they were all well wrapped up. The kids were certainly enjoying themselves running round playing ball.
“Why don’t we do that Bel?”
“Wot, run around playing ball? Oh, have a riparian lunch you mean?”
“No Bel, a picnic. Wot’s a riparian anyway?”
She let it go and they went into the local pub for a pint and a pie. In Crusty’s case though it was a pint, a pie and a pee!
He strolled in with a jaunty gait.
“Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum!” he sang and people turned to look at him.
It was the outfit, and that voice! The people gave Crustabel a pitying look and then went back to what they were doing.
He started trying to do the Popeye walk and skip, if you can remember it.
As he was going to the toilet he started singing the Popeye song:
[CENTER]“I’m Crusty the sailor man
I’m Crusty the sailor man
I’m strong to the finach
'Cos I eats me spinach
I’m Crusty the sailor man
Parp, parp!”[/CENTER]
For goodness sake! Well, Bel was no Olive Oyl (more like Bluto) and she swung at him again, but he ducked just in time.
She grabbed at him and held him tightly by both arms. It hurt and, with her nose a millimetre from his, she growled at him and whispered menacingly.
“Lissen thee. Ya know that collection of soft dangly bits that ya’ve gor’in front of ya?”
He nodded.
“Well if ya don’t behave yerself I’m going to remove them bit by bit wi’ a rusty hacksaw!”
He winced and his eyes watered at the thought.
“Not me crusticles Bel!”
“Yes. Now go on for a pee and don’t forget to wash yer hands!”
She let him go and he scampered off to the toilets. After that, she didn’t hear a peep out of him until much later in the day.
He admired Crustabel. She could turn her hand to just about anything and she had a finger in many pies.
They finally moored up for the night at yet another gorgeous place and that night this particular establishment was holding a dance! Crusty loved to dance. He thought he was a great mover, as I’ve already described in earlier chapters.
In fairness he really wasn’t bad at all. He could do the waltz and quickstep and he was a dab hand at the tango. And he could rock and roll too! He couldn’t wait.
They had a bite to eat and sat and chatted with a group of people that had come over to England from Australia. The Australians had only just arrived and were going for an early night, so Crusty and Bel went into the other room where the dancing had just started.
“Hokey, dokey. Here were go!” yelled Crusty.
Crusty cruised onto the dance floor with Crustabel in tow. They started to waltz and Crusty crooned. They were playing Vera Lynn and he started warbling.
[CENTER]
“We’ll meat again
I’ll go where there’s a hen!”[/CENTER]
Oh no, he was off again.
He whizzed her around the dance floor until the music stopped. The music that had been chosen for the evening was to suit every age group and the next song that came on was by Abba. Crusty sang along:
[CENTER]“Souper trouper breams are going to find me
Glinting in the sun …
Tastes better on a buttered bun”[/CENTER]
Crustabel shushed him.
“Shurrup Crusty!”
The next song was an old song from the fifties called “Mister Wonderful”. Crusty knew them all. This was a lovely song and everybody was enjoying it until Crusty joined in with the singing.
[CENTER]“Mr Wonderloaf … that’s me”[/CENTER]
That was the only bit he knew and each time it came round he sang it at the top of his voice.
Suddenly, all the dancers yelled at him.
[SIZE=“3”]“SHURRUP CRUSTY!”[/SIZE]
Crusty shurrup, for now.
Silence reigned.
He was waiting for a rock and roll song so he could show off with his Crustabel. He wouldn’t be able to throw her over his back and underneath between his legs as he wasn’t strong enough, her being nineteen stone and all, but they could do the less vigorous kind.
Next was the Big Bopper. Crusty again sang along:
[CENTER]“Chantilly Lace had a fillet face
A bony snail a-hanging down…”[/CENTER]
He whizzed her around till she was dizzy and the crowd roared and clapped.
Thankfully the music slowed down a little bit with Nat King Cole singing “When I Fall in Loaf…”
Where had they got this wonderful music from, Crusty wondered. There was such a selection from all the different eras and it was brilliant.
They sat down as Crustabel was getting out of breath, and Crusty’s skinny little legs were fit to drop off. They weren’t teenagers anymore after all.
They had a few drinks and nattered away until suddenly another of Crusty’s favourite dances started up. His eyes lit up and told Bel that he just had to dance to this one.
It was Alma Cogan singing “You Should Never Do A Tango With an Eskimo.”
Well, Crusty was no Eskimo, but he could do the tango. He took Bel firmly in his arms and started to do an exaggerated tango. He was flinging her everywhere and the dance floor cleared to let them get on with it. Everybody was watching. He was good though, and even Bel started to get into the feel of it. Baaarumph, ba daaa!
Suddenly, as he whisked her around his teeth dropped out! Bel hadn’t noticed and accidentally kicked them to the far corner of the dance floor. They slid across the parquet grinning away and finally came to rest at the edge where the carpet began.
The whole crowd had seen what had happened but Crusty, being a professional, hadn’t let it stop the routine of his dance with Bel and continued until the music finished. The crowd were again in an uproar and the applause was so great that Crustabel looked around in amazement. She did her best to curtsey, but her belly got in the way. Crusty bowed and they both up-righted themselves at the same time. She looked at Crusty and grinned.
Crusty grinned back, and that was when she saw he’d no teeth in.
“Weer’s thi’ bluddy teeth gone?”
“Sorry Bel, they fell out. Havva showed ya up again?”
The collection of soft dangly bits came into contact with her knee!!
© Mollie M
02.09.01
Oh that was a good chapter! Can just picture false teeth skidding across the dance floor
I have to ask…what is a riparian meal?
It’s a meal taken outdoors, i.e. a picnic.
I’ve learnt something new Not heard of that before
[B][B][CENTER]24
Crusty Cooks Breakfast!!
(and Walks the Plank?)[/CENTER][/B][/B]
After he’d dropped to the floor like a bag of sh!t, eyes watering, the crowd had been in an uproar, cheering and applauding Crustabel.
She’d stalked off in disgust leaving him there and yelping in pain. The crowd were doubled over laughing at the unexpected entertainment. They were a sad bunch of people, enjoying Crusty’s predicament. It was just funny the way it had happened.
Crusty tried to get up but couldn’t manage it. He was always ending up on a dance floor on his arse. As usual, a couple of chaps came over to help him to his feet and Crusty limped along after Bel.
“Bel, Bel, wait for me Bel!”
He favvered Long John Silver limping away. All he was short of was a patch over one eye and a parrot on his shoulder!
Now wouldn’t you think that would have taught him to stop showing her up and making a fool of himself? Yes?
No!!
He made it back to their boat, more or less in one piece and when he’d got back on board she’d gone to bed so, sulking, he turned in as well.
The next day he was up bright and early and, to give Crusty his due, he was an early riser. There was a very good reason for this though. The earlier he got up the more food he could eat during the day!
He went to the galley and, by way of making amends he started to cook his and Bel’s breakfast.
Did you hear me say that he’d washed his hands and face first, after using the toilet?
No, I didn’t, did I?
And he hadn’t.
He got out the bacon, eggs, mushrooms (complete with bits of soil) and tomatoes and slung the lot into the frying pan all at the same time, into which he’d poured about two or three inches of oil!
He wasn’t much of a cook and as he was swishing it all around in the pan with a spoon, the eggs broke and a horrible sludgy mess was the result!!
Yukky!
Bel arose to the smell of the food cooking and she leapt up in alarm.
“Oh my gawd! He’s trying to cook proper food!”
As we’re all aware by now Crusty only “cooks” from things he gets out of tins and packets and, in her rush she almost went arse over tip over her nighty, but managed to keep herself upright. Not an easy feat that when you’re nineteen stone!
“CRUSTY - wot the 'ell d’ya think yer doing?” she yelled loudly.
“Cooking Crustabel’s breakfast!” came the happy reply.
[B][B][I]“Well don’t. Stop wot yer doing, right now!”
Paaaarip![/I][/B][/B]
Crusty stopped and put his hands behind his back, the frying pan left sizzling away unattended now.
You should have seen the state of the tiny galley when she got there. A pan full of what you wouldn’t use as pig swill, oil splattered all over the place and all over him, broken egg shells on the floor and Crusty with a happy, cheesy grin on his face.
“Phew. Wor’a bluddy stink!”
“Just cooking yer brekkie Bel. My way of saying sorry for last night!”
She was mortified and turned off the cooker.
“Phew! Have you just farted? There’s a bluddy stink in here an’ it’s not cooking! If you think I’m going to eat that crap ya’ve gor’in that pan ya’ve gor’another think coming. Reet! I’m gerrin’ washed and dressed and then I’m going out for me brekkie.”
Crusty clapped his hands.
“Oh goody! Weer are we gooin’?”
“Not you ya little snot-ball! You’re not going anywhere until you’ve cleaned all this mess up and, when I get back I want to see it all spick and span. Understand! C-L-E-A-N. What does that spell?”
“Er … clean, but wor’about my brekkie Bel?”
“Not until you’ve cleared up!”
With that she turned on her heel and left him standing there with a cloth in his hand that she’d thrown at him.
That was her first mistake of the day!
She went for a leisurely stroll along the riverbank to try to calm down. She didn’t like to eat when she was annoyed as it gave her indigestion, especially first thing in a morning.
She was calling him all the names under the sun, including some of those that you have read in these pages and some of those that you haven’t!!
Yet!
When her blood pressure had come down again she went to the new cafe she’d been told about and had her breakfast. What the hell was she going to do with him, she wondered? What was he going to get up to next, set fire to the boat?
Suddenly, alarm bells started ringing.
“Oh my godfathers, I’ve left him alone!”
She put her head in her hands and started to think what would be the worst thing he could possibly do while she wasn’t there to keep her eye on him.
“Oh no! Nah! He wouldn’t. Would he? Yes he bluddy well would!”
She leapt up from her table and started to run. Being hefty she couldn’t run fast but she pelted along as fast as she could.
She got back to the mooring then sat down on the riverbank with a weary thump. Sweet Lord what had he done with the boat? It was gone!
Best case scenario: he’d have taken the boat for a ride being perfectly able to navigate or - worst case scenario. She didn’t dare think any further.
She went to the nearest telephone and made a call to the River Police. There was nothing else she could do. She explained to them and they said they were on their way and would pick her up.
Once aboard the Police motor cruiser they set off in search of Crusty. They were very, very lucky indeed. It didn’t take them long to find the boat which was well and truly stuck in reeds at the side of the riverbank, just two miles along.
There he was sat on top in his weird sailor’s outfit. Don’t ask me how, but he’d found a flag with the skull and crossbones on and he was flying it at half-mast on the radio aerial. As the cruiser cut its engines to come alongside, Crusty stood up and started shouting at the top of his voice
“Avast ye scurvy knaves! S-O-S please!”
The Police Officers were grim-faced and told Crusty to get down from the roof of the boat and come aboard the cruiser.
Really they were dying to laugh at this daft old sod with his funny costume on and plaits dangling down each side of his head. They thought they’d seen it all. However, they had to maintain an air of officialdom.
Crusty’s face lit up. Brilliant! He stood there whilst the Police Officers helped him aboard and Crusty, as ever, had to say the wrong thing.
“Permission to come aboard me hearties?”
One of the officers, stifling a laugh, yanked him aboard. Using their radio they called for help to pull the large boat away from where Crusty had crashed it. There’d been no damage done at all as Crusty hadn’t known how to accelerate, so he’d literally just drifted along and into the reeds.
They asked Crustabel, who was officially in charge of the boat, if she’d like to bring charges against her companion.
Crusty’s face dropped.
Blobble!
“Charges? Worra ya goin’t charge me with?”
One of the officers took out his notebook and wafted at the smell with it.
“Well, first of all, taking and steering away a boat which is currently on hire to one Crustabel Leekey. Endangering other waterway vessels, farting, “driving” on the wrong side of the river, farting, piracy on the high seas for flying the Jolly Roger, failing to stop at ducks crossing, farting … need I go on?”
Brrrip!
“Go on, yer 'aving a laff!” said Crusty grinning.
The officer didn’t smile.
“Do I look as if I’m having a laugh sir? This is a very serious matter indeed.”
The officer turned to his Sergeant, who was whispering to Crustabel.
“What’s the penalty for all this, Sarge? There are a lot of misdemeanours here.”
The Sergeant came over with a frown.
“Well, the least we can give him is walking the plank and keel-hauling then, if he survives that, he could go with a caution. Or, take forty lashes!”
Paaarip, blobble, plopple!
Crusty went white. Walk the plank? Keel-hauling? Lashings! They only do that in films, don’t they? The officers were serious!!
He tried to scuttle off but Bel grabbed him by the neck.
She then interjected and gave the officers a wink.
“I don’t think we need go that far officer. Crusty is a very excitable old soul and it was just a bit of high jinx. No harm done eh?”
The Sergeant turned to a now cowering Crusty.
“Alright, we’ll let it go this time, but don’t let me catch you at the helm of any kind of water vessel ever again. Got it?”
Crusty started grinning again.
“Got it me hearty, but tell Crustabel she’s not to batter me when she gets me back!”
The officer, rolling his eyes up, turned again to Crustabel.
“You have my deepest sympathy ma’am.”
The cruiser dropped them off at a pub along the canal bank where they could go and sit down until their boat was returned to them.
Several hours later it came chugging along, the Jolly Roger still flying. She took over at the helm and made him go and sit in the lounge until she got them to where they were going. She moored the boat and cut the engines.
Crusty was quaking downstairs.
She had now resigned herself to the fact that Crusty couldn’t change. He was as daft as daft could be, and the only way she was going to control him would be to NEVER, EVER let him out of her sight. But she knew that was impractical and darn near impossible.
He’d misbehaved yet again so was going to have to pay for it, and dearly, this time, as he could have caused irrevocable damage.
He heard her thumping down the narrow stairs and toward the lounge and Crusty sat there with his arms covering his head, lips a-quiver!
“Please, Bel!”
She walloped him again!
Poor old Crustykins! The only stars he saw that night were the ones floating above his head.
She walked off singing.
[CENTER]“The stars at night, are big and bright
… bum-bum-bum-bum …
Deep in the Heart of Norfolk!”[/CENTER]
© Mollie M
05.09.01
Just caught up with Crusty Mollie, really funny as usual, but I think he put me off bacon, eggs and mushrooms for the rest of me life, my God what a mess of breakfast!
Aw, poor Crusty. That was one of his better efforts as well, and there are more of his cooking “skills” to come!
Glad you’re still enjoying them. ;-)
Even though I’ve got a stinker of a headache, I had to read this chapter
Brilliant Mollie NameBright - Coming Soon
I’m sorry to hear that, lass. Hope it clears soon. I don’t get headaches so I can’t say that I know how you feel. 
Glad you enjoyed the latest though.
Mollie, just read the German trip, very funny indeed
Thanks Marian. Glad you’re enjoying reading.
[B][CENTER][CENTER]25
Crusty Makes A Proposal
(and Bel Sees An Analyst!)[/CENTER][/CENTER][/B]
After she’d walloped him for stealing the boat she left him to lick his wounds and went to make a cup of tea in the galley. It was the first time she’d been in there since much earlier in the day when he’d made a mess with the breakfast. He hadn’t cleaned it properly so she called to him to come and have a look.
[SIZE=“2”]“Crusty! Get yer scuzzy little rat’s backside down here RIGHT NOW!”[/SIZE]
“On me way Bel!”
Still slightly stunned, Crusty got up and whooshed down to the little kitchen. He looked around.
“Wossup?”
“Wot d’ya mean wossup? Look at the state of this bluddy kitchen!”
His head was throbbing from where she’d lamped him and that was his first concern.
“Have you gor’any plasters, Bel? I’ve gor’a lickle cut over me eye and …” he asked in a small voice.
“Finish making the tea ya little tow-rag and I’LL clean up.”
Crusty was about to argue with her, but when she showed him her jack-hammer fist, he went about the business of putting tea bags into the cups and brewing the tea.
“Have we any National Dried … I mean milk, Bel?”
“In the fridge! Where else would it be?”
Crusty hated it when Bel was angry with him. He was always making her angry and he tried so hard to be good.
She finished off the cleaning. It had only taken about ten minutes, which is all it would have taken Crusty, if he’d done that first before taking off with the boat. He thought that, because she’d gone out for breakfast, he had all the time in the world. He’d eaten the sludge out of the pan that he’d cooked. Mmmmm, tasty! Then he decided to take the boat for a spin, get it back in half an hour then get his cleaning done.
It hadn’t panned out like that though. He hadn’t realised how hard it was to “drive a boat”!! He could drive a car okay and thought the procedure was the same, but there were no pedals or gears. He hadn’t realised also that you can’t do a three-point turn with a 40 foot canal boat on a narrow river. He thought he’d be able to figure it out, but it all went disastrously wrong.
Silently, Crustabel felt sorry for him. She really shouldn’t batter him like that. He never even defended himself, ever! She suddenly felt very ashamed of herself for not being a little more tolerant.
It wasn’t his fault he was such an arsehole. He just was. She made a resolution that, if she felt like she wanted to hit him in the future, she wouldn’t use her fists on him again as she had in the past. Just a clout round the ear should do it!
From behind her Crusty had finished brewing the tea and he took it into the lounge for her.
They sat down and she looked at him hard.
“I’m sorry for beating you up like that Crusty, but do you have any idea how much ya wind me up?”
His eyes welled with tears.
She took hold of him gently and cuddled him, his face buried in her ample bosom. Crusty was having a grin in there. She patted him on the back like she was winding a baby.
“Boip!”
He snuggled into her, still grinning. He liked it in here!
“I know. It’s all me own fault, Bel. I don’t blame ya. If I were you I’d beat me up too!!”
“Well, I promise I won’t do it again if ya promise not to keep winding me up!”
“I promise.”
Ever heard of a pie crust promise? Easily made, easily broken?
They were silent for a moment and then Crusty, being Crusty, said the worst thing he could possibly have said to Bel. He’d just had one thumping and his timing couldn’t have been more out.
“Will ya marry me, Bel?”
She shoved him away from her.
[SIZE=“2”]“Ya WHAAAT? Are you winding me up again? There’s no way on this earth I’d ever marry you. Who’d want to marry a crappy arsed little bog head like thee? Worry ya like a bluddy dog, yes. Marry ya, no. Don’t ever ask me thar’again or I’ll shake ya till yer bluddy eyes drop out!!”[/SIZE]
“Okay,” he mumbled into his tea.
They finished their drinks and then turned in for the night. They were going home the next day and, despite the slaps she’d given him, he’d had a great time. He always had a great time wherever he went, as long as he was with his Crustabel.
The next day Bel steered the boat back to its home mooring and did all the things necessary to hand-over to the next passengers. She went down and checked the engines out with an oily rag in hand.
When she came back up again she was glowing from the warmth of the engines and was grimy with slicks of oil on her face. It had been a tight squeeze down there for her, but she’d managed. It had been no good asking Crusty to help her as he’d only have got in the way.
“Ya looks proper cute with them oil slicks on yer chops Bel!”
She glared at him.
Cute! How can a nineteen stone woman with a face only a mother could love and fists like a navvy, look cute?
On their way home in the car Crustabel came to a decision.
“I’ll tell ya worram going to do Crusty. Next week I’m going to try to ger’an appointment with a Counsellor for aggression therapy.”
“Wossat?”
“Well it’s so that somebody can help me to stop lamping you. Sound okay to you owd lad?”
“Bluddy belting that Bel!”
She really had to get herself in check. No one can condone the use of violence from one person to another. Like they always say, the first one to use fists is the one who has lost the argument, or they aren’t intelligent enough to reason logically.
She was telling him that it was mainly as a result of her husband being a bully and, in her own way, she was getting back at men but Crusty, poor sod, was one of the most mild-mannered, complacent people she’d ever met. He was an easy target.
She was way out of order and she knew it.
Crusty listened to her without saying another word and was almost weeping with joy.
“Ta Bel. If ya likes, I’ll come wi’ ya for some stocking support!”
“Ya means moral support ya dim-witted owd ditch rat! Tharrad be lovely Crusty, thanks lad!”
They needed each other.
They deserved each other!!
Luckily she did have quite a few contacts and got an appointment within three days of getting home. That must be a record, but her situation was very grave.
She picked Crusty up and they went to the swish offices of the private analyst where they sat in the waiting room. Crusty was wandering around the room aimlessly looking at this and that and attempting to read the posters on the wall.
His behaviour had changed radically since she’d given him a good thumping the night before they’d left Norfolk.
Just then the receptionist told them they could go into the Counsellor’s office now.
Crusty trotted behind her and she sat down.
The Counsellor, a lady of forty-something, motioned for Crusty to also sit down. He sat and opened the packet of butties Bel had provided him with to keep him quiet.
Crustabel started explaining to her what was wrong and why she thought she did what she did. The analyst was a gentle, quietly spoken woman and Bel felt at ease talking to her.
Crusty sat munching quietly for a while and then started to get restless. The Counsellor decided Bel would feel more relaxed if they both sat on a settee together, rather than have a big desk between them so they moved to the other side of the room and, as they talked, Crusty was also asked a few questions to which he responded well. Bel was proud of him.
Crusty had remained in the chair where he’d been put on entering the offices and he’d done well to stay there for so long. Half an hour had gone by now and he was bored rigid.
“Will it be alreet if I ger’up and stretch me legs a bit. I’ve getten leg-lock!”
“Course you can Crusty” said the Counsellor gently, her kind eyes smiling at him.
“Oooh ta. I’m gerrin nins and peedles in me lickle legs!”
“Have a look at the nice pictures on the walls and read some of the posters. They’re really interesting.”
Crusty got up and started to walk around, butty in hand. He thought the posters were all boring.
A-ha! But what was this? He’d seen some of these on display when he was in Southport!
Crusty went round to the other side of the desk, which was out of the line of sight of the analyst, as the settee was set at an angle on the other side of the room.
