Last Friday’s Microcosms was inspired by the works of Agatha Christie. I avoided the butler in the drawing room but instead ended up with a Spiv in the Theatre for my first ever attempt – at an admittedly fake – memoir. Give The Fisherwoman below a read and let me know how successful I was!
To this day, I could not tell you if the Fisherwoman could fish. Her nickname was nothing to do with aquatic life, but everything to do with her catchphrase. At every meeting, every deal, every offer of help she always said the same thing, “What’s the catch?”
That day Hartman, the man who faced her fish hook, smiled a smile worth a billion dollars and simply held out his empty hands. “Nothing, my dear lady. Absolutely, positively, emphatically nothing.”
“There is always a catch, especially from a spiv in such colourful clothing.” She made colourful sound like a swear word.
“Thank you for the compliment, my dear lady,” he said with a wink. “But I can positively, absolutely, emphatically promise you there is no catch.”
“See Sam,” our chairman Bob reminded us his favourite colour is green. “Let’s put this to a vote, shall we? Everyone who thinks we should accept Mr Hartman’s kind offer to fix the Victorian frontage of the theatre raise their hands.”
Everyone but The Fisherwoman and me did as Bob instructed. There was no point in asking who opposed.
“Excellent. Emphatically, positively, absolutely excellent.” Hartman’s joy was as bright as his clothing. Too bright for our little theatre. “The work will absolutely start this week – once your cheque clears.”
Bob must have paid in cash as the giant, yellow machines rolled into town the next day, shaking the dust from the windows. Their scoops tore down the Victorian frontage with all the subtlety of a toddler. What replaced it was worse. I’m not too much of a man to admit I cried as the Fisherwoman’s catch fell at my feet.