Kate and the Cross Eyed Cheese Man

Last week, during class crossover time, I was stood in the hall saying goodbye to one of my students, Olga, when a man popped his head round the door and started talking to Olga. I assumed he was a family member or something, as it isn’t unusual for people to pop in and out with messages, so I paid no attention and just milled around waiting for them to finish so I could shut the door.

After a while it became silent and I was aware that Olga was looking at me, and the man started all over again. This time I listened in and I must admit I did think it was strange that the man was asking Olga if she wanted to buy any goat’s cheese – and I also wondered why Olga was looking at me for approval.

I then realised with horror that the man was cross eyed and had been talking to me all along. He naturally assumed I was a little crazy and started to address Olga instead hoping to get more sense from her than from me, making things even more confusing, something along the lines of ‘does the mad woman want any goat’s cheese’ to which Olga replied she didn’t know. And luckily I started to get the gist of things by that time and I said I’d check.

Having regained some control over the situation I shouted out to Ian to ask if we wanted any cheese, and he replied that we had three in the fridge he didn’t think we wanted any more. I thought this was a little odd, as I could not remember seeing three cheeses in the fridge, and I was certain I would have remembered buying them. I asked Ian if he thought we should get one for Christmas and he replied that it wasn’t his favourite thing, and he wasn’t particularly keen on getting one for Christmas. Increasingly having an Alice in Wonderland feeling, I queried Ian’s apparent sudden dislike of cheese – while also thinking our festive cheese feast was going to be a bit disappointing this year. It transpired that Ian thought I said ‘aubergine’. Although I really don’t know how ‘goats cheese’ came out as sounding anything like ‘aubergine’.

The cheese man looked on with bemusement – obviously regretting his decision to call – as we appeared to be debating with much vigor whether to buy a cheese.

Eventually we said yes, and with much trepidation the poor man asked what type we wanted, obviously thinking that he was about to initiate another bout of confusion. Happily by that time we’d used up our confusion quota for the day and I was able to say we wanted a mature one which he was able to deliver and disappear with much relief.

I am guessing we won’t be seeing him again in a hurry!!!