My,my he said.Who are you,Mrs Wittgenstein.

Well,I was on the bus and it was very I said to this man,Can I have your seat?
So he says,No,you are equal now.
So I said,My knees are killing me
So he sez,See the doctor!
So I said,I’ve got my husband here.
Where? he asked
He’s in this bag here,I told .
He looked a bit puzzled so I said. it’s his ashes actually.
So he said,All right you can sit down.
I said.Don’t bother,grace will aid me.
Who’s Grace,he said looking round.
I mean God’s grace,I told him.
If you ask me,God’s a bloody disgrace.he replied.
so I said,please watch your words as it may disturb my husband.
He said,Surely he can’t hear me now,can he?
I said,No the waves of sound might rattle him.
He said,Rattle!He’s not a skeleton,is he?
No,I was using it to mean upset or disturb in a poetical sense he said.Who are you,Mrs Wittgenstein.
Wittgenstein never married,I informed him.Nor did he write poetry though the Tractatus does have a stern beauty
What a shame,he said.You’d make someone a lovely wife.
Is that a proposal,I asked him humorously.
It doesn’t seem right when you have your husband’s ashes on your knee.
Too true.I fancied having a quiet time on my own with no men around.
So you don’t want passionate bodily love? he asked.
I might want it but I have no desire to wash underpants and boil hankies any more.How that ever got linked to passionate love,God only knows,I murmured seductively
No, he doesn’t because he has no nose! he informed me quietly
Wow,I never knew that, I lied despondently.
Excuse me,can I get off? he enquired gently
Not on me,thank you,I answered with a cunning smile
You are so vulgar,he noted journalistically.
Thank you.I’ve been training for a year or two.I told him wisely, with a shy laugh.
Why,can you have lessons?He asked quite jocosely
Just watch some soaps on TV….I offered unevenly

I prefer gardening,he replied regretfully
You can prune my bush tonight if you like,I reminded him perversely
I say,that’s a bit off! he said wistfully
The ashes have gone to my head.I said in desperation.
I say,shall I take you home? he offered gallantly
I have no home,I responded poignantly.My lover broke a window over my head after my husband took ill.
That’s odd.
Even for a man, I told him numerically.
He should have been glad,he replied sensately.
No, he was afraid of commitment,I informed him furiously.
How would breaking the window help? he asked curiously
It would give him a way to escape from me.I chattered obviously
My goodness,we are at the terminus.We’ll have to get another bus back to our stops.He said anxiously.
Just then we saw some police approaching.
Excuse me madam,aAre you Muslim?
No.I always wear cotton in hot weather.Unless I am making cheese.
Sorry. he said.How do you worship?
I think you need a Rabbi.
So you are Jewish? are.
How do you know,he said.
As you have a big hat on like Leonard Cohen ~I deduced you were another of those Cohens.They are all descended from Aaron,you know.There must be a few hundred of you.
I fear you have made a logical error,madam.
As long as I don’t make an error of the heart,I don’t bother about logic.I said informatively
Surely we need both a heart and a head,he asked me questioningly.
Definitely,but why are you here? I demanded.
That’s what God said to Elijah on the mountain.
And what did Elijah say,I enquired.
I heard you calling me.