Free Lessons From Ducks by Tammy Robinson Page B

to his original one.
    “I’m sorry,” Anna had smiled apologetically at him, “it’s just this article on mindfulness. I’d never heard of it before but it’s really very interesting. Have you heard about it?”
    The man shook his head. “No.”
    “Would you like to read it when I’m finished?”
    The man looked at the receptionist for assistance but she remained resolutely fixated on her computer screen. “No. But thank you,” he finally said, when it was obvious he would have to answer. Then he put his magazine down on his lap and regarded her. “I don’t believe in all that mumbo jumbo, hippy nonsense.”
    Anna’s eyebrows shot up. “Nonsense?”
    “You know,” he waved one hand, clearly on his bandwagon now, “spiritual enlightenment, meditation, aromatherapy, Buddhism – all that guff. You don’t want to start dabbling in things such as that.” He said it as if she had expressed an interest in learning the dark arts. “No,” he shook his head dismissively, “that sort of stuff is for hippies, people that go around not bathing and wearing those god awful baggy trousers without a crotch to speak of.” He shuddered. “Not professional people such as ourselves.” And he crossed his fat fingers across his generous stomach and gave her a smile that suggested she need not thank him for doing her a favour by pointing out the error of her ways, he was happy to help.
    “Hippy stuff?” She leant forward, puzzled. “I did offer you an article to read, didn’t I? Not an ecstasy pill or a gram of LSD?”
    He frowned. What was she on about? “Yes.”
    “Oh! Good,” Anna sat back and relaxed. “I just wanted to clear that up. Make sure I hadn’t inadvertently offered you a fat joint or snort of cocaine.”
    The man grimaced distastefully at her crass words. Why was she speaking to him like this? Hadn’t he just pointed out to her that they were of the same ilk? He sniffed derisively; he’d been mistaken, misled by her appearance. She was one of the great unwashed after all. Perhaps not on the outside, but the inside clearly bore the predilection. He sniffed again and lifted his magazine to his nose, indicating the conversation had reached an end as far as he was concerned.
    But Anna wasn’t finished. “Hippy stuff,” she scoffed, “how very small minded of you.”
    The magazine dropped once more into his lap and the man’s fuzzy eyebrows met in the middle, a deep canyon forming above them. “Small minded? Madam, I resent that accusation.”
    “You can resent it all you like, doesn’t make it any less true.”
    “You don’t even know me!”
    “No, a fact I’m greatly relieved about.”
    His mouth gaped open. He was not used to being spoken to like this, especially by a woman. “You are rude and annoying,” he said eventually, closing his mouth and giving her his best contemptuous stare, the one he employed in his workplace to great effect.
    “And you, sir, are pompous and ignorant. You do know that Buddhism is a religion, don’t you?”
    “Well I know some people believe - ”
    “One of the top five in the world,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “In fact, some of the happiest, most non-materialistic and non-judgmental people in the world practise Buddhism. You’d do well to take a leaf out of their book.” She eyed his expensive leather shoes and garish gold wristwatch pointedly.
    They both jumped as a door opened with a bang. The doctor stood framed in the doorway, the receptionist hovering to his side, her eyes wide with amusement. Obviously she had finally seen fit to fill the doctor in on the drama currently unfolding in his waiting room.
    “Mr Thomson,” the doctor smiled, “please come this way.”
    Glowering at Anna, Mr Thomson stood and picked up his briefcase. “Thank god,” he growled. “It’s about bloody time.” 
    “You do know God is also a religious deity, right?” Anna said brightly. “Only I’d hate for you to take his name in vain in front