The Roadhouse

The small car was hot, the road dusty and the young family tired. It had been a long journey to that dream holiday in the south. Moreover, there were no service areas with their dubious delights of fast food and grubby toilets in those far off days.  Back then motorists had to rely on roadside inns, the English ‘pub’, or the rare transport cafe. But it was neither of these that the fractious family drew up at. It was something more stylish maybe more racy and was the parlance called a roadhouse. The mother entered with her small son and admired the mock oak beams and the fashionable set that had gathered around a plush bar. She surveyed the lavish menu and to her horror saw the prices.  A tomato juice alone was ten British shillings;  a laughably small amount today but a fortune then. The more so as they were trying to eak out each precious penny for the fortnight ahead. What’s to be done if face is to be saved? Suddenly, the tiny lad pipes up with the words of salvation -‘Mummy I don’t like it here! ‘Well if you don’t like it, we won’t stay’ came the grateful reply .
At which they departed with dignity maitained, customers  whispering about spoiled children and  a toddler stunned he had been listen to for once.

Let us pray

Dear Lord help us
To maintain the dignity of those
Living within limited means.
May we be dignified when living
With in our means and blessings.


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