Unfiltered Story #251813

(I live in a flat right by a Canterbury tourist attraction, a medieval gateway that’s the largest of its kind in the country. It’s a frequent stop for guided tours of the city. I work from home and, as such, get to hear a lot of facts about the gateway as the guides talk to their groups. One summer I have the window wide open when I hear this:)

Guide: And this gateway was paid for by a man called…

(He dries up, leaving an awkward pause. I decide to help the poor guy out and yell out of my window.)

Me: Simon Sudbury, 1380.

(He looks around, surprised, trying to work out where my voice is coming from. He doesn’t look up and see me, however. After a pause, he calls out “Thanks” and continues with the rest of his spiel. As a volunteer tour guide elsewhere in Canterbury, I know what it’s like to suddenly forget a name in a speech you’ve done hundreds of times, I just hope the poor man wasn’t too confused by the ‘helpful ghost’, and got the rest of his tour done smoothly!)