The apartment of my friend Steve and I rented his was originally the upper floor of his semi-detached house and it was the size of two average hotel rooms. Ms. Bennett lived downstairs and we shared a front door so she knew almost everything we got up, but she was very open minded and sometimes liked a glass so that the relationship worked well. We referred to it affectionately as "Mrs. B" and she always referred to us as "my boys". I lived there for two years and it was a time of parties and sometimes undisciplined behavior, but our relationship with Mrs B has never wavered. In fact, it has become something of a mother to us and has protected us every chance she got to be the best mothers would do.
and Steve I were in our local pub on a Friday night when about five pints of beer each suggested that part of our food might be a good idea. a few hours later, almost everyone who had been in the pub was in our small apartment, the music was pumping, the laughter was loud and the beer was flowing. Ten minutes after Ms. B was at the door with one of the neighbors.
in other circumstances I would have expected this means difficulties, but I knew Mrs. B so I opened the door and kept my mouth shut. She turned to the neighbor severe. "Mr. Watson, this is Eamonn," she said quickly, then to me, "Eamonn, Mr. Watson." I offered my hand and shook Watson reluctantly. Mrs. B turned to Mr. Watson. "Eamonn is a firefighter Mr. Watson, and just today he was promoted to sergeant. I'm sure you would not want one of our brave firefighters a party to this special occasion you? "It was all complete nonsense of course, I'm still a complete novice and there is no such thing as a sergeant in the fire service.
In the pregnant pause, j 'adopted my best pathetic expression pleadingyet proud and face of Mr. Watson softened slowly. "well ... of course ... but if you could please try to reduce the noise a little?" I raised hands in mock surrender. "Thank you, Mr. Watson." I said. "We will certainly try to keep it down," Mrs. B rubbed his hands with satisfaction and said. "Well, that's that then," before Mr. Watson graze on. She returned a few seconds later with a grin on his face. "This will cost you boy of great Bailey," she said, grazed me in the apartment.
One hour later, she was dancing in the middle of the dining and drinking Bailey's Irish Cream from a large glass while being surrounded by people around a third his age. At first it was a little awkward, but everyone soon realized that she was a good sport and she soon became an accepted part of the crowd. It all got a bit crazy after and Mrs B was right in the thick of it. I went to bed around 3am.
The morning I found Mrs. B asleep on the couch with a bottle of Bailey half empty in one hand and the attachment of a battery powered ladies in the other - obviously someone's idea a joke. To spare his blushes (and mine) I tried to gently remove the disturbing realistic replica of his hand without waking her, but loud bursts into life as soon as I touched Ms. B and woke with a start . She grabbed the accessory Bailey and tight against his chest as she looked around the room in a daze trying to reconstruct the situation together.
After a few seconds, she rose slowly and gracefully made her way in front of me at the door without saying a word, she was loud buzz. She closed the door behind her. Then the door opened and Mrs B returned composed entirely. "I think this is yours," she said, and handed me the Baileys. I accepted it in silence and she left. The incident was never mentioned again.