I have no computer... I am using an internet cafe, so if I haven't replied to your e-mails, now you know why.

Things I do have.

A lovely, quiet airy flat to live in.

A great new housemate who buys me gingerbread men & who agrees we don't need a tv.

A postcode.

A landline.

An all-clear at the hospital today.

Happiness.

It feels wonderful.

Cx

 

 
There goes the neighbourhood …
 
I had been pottering happily in my new flat for about 2 hours when the doorbell rang. I opened it 2 a respectable-looking elderly couple.
 
‘Carol Briggs ?’ demanded the lady, in the tones of Lady Bracknell.
 
‘Ye-es’ I was hesitant, how did they know my name ?
 
‘Have you taken leave of your senses ?’ thundered the old crone.
 
‘I beg your pardon ?’ I was very confused, I’m not used to conversations starting like this.
 
‘Have you ANY idea how much inconvenience you have been causing everyone ?’
 
Now, as someone too paranoid to push in traffic, in case I hack anyone off, I was astonished to hear I had inconvenienced anyone, let alone the whole neighbourhood in a little under 2 hours.
 
Turns out I had parked Henry in a place which met with their disapproval. It’s residents parking only & as I don’t have a permit yet, I had parked in front of the garages to the rear of my block. I must point out I wasn’t blocking any of the garages, there was sufficient space, to the front & rear of Henry to get around him.
 
I agreed to move Henry, apologised for the inconvenience & explained that it was my 1st day at the new address. The bloke was somewhat embarrassed & joked that they could forgive me but this wasn’t good enough for the old bitch who wanted to know how I could ‘possibly be so stupid ?’
 
I pointed out that I didn’t care for her tone, had made a simple mistake which I was in the process of rectifying & asked if she was this friendly with all new arrivals ?
 
She then delivered her coup de grace, didn’t I know I was ‘blocking in cancer patients ?’ I hurried to Henry, expecting to see an ambulance, sirens a-wailing, prevented from taking patients to hospital.
 
As I rounded the corner, I was met by 2 more overly made-up harpies, shrilly demanding ‘How could you be so stupid’ It’s safe to say, I was a bit fed up by now. The penny finally dropped & I asked how Harpy number 1 had known my name & at which address to find me. She flourished her ‘evidence’ from behind her back, a letter of mine, which she had taken from my car & OPENED to discover my name & address.
 
I can’t remember the last time I was so angry.
 
As someone who hates confrontation, I will walk a long way to avoid one. However, I was so taken aback with her actions, that I explained to her, in no uncertain terms that I took a dim view of her entering my car & opening my sealed mail. Her reply defied logic.
 
‘Well, you brought it on yourself’
 
She went onto explain how lucky I was, as she was in the process of having my car ‘removed by the Police’ I burst her bubble when I told her the Police have no powers to remove vehicles from private land. When she demanded to know how I knew this I decided it was best to keep my counsel.
 
She still doesn’t know how narrowly she escaped a palm-heel strike when she stalked off declaring that the ‘Police would certainly remove your car, because it’s derelict.’ I only polished him yesterday.
 
Not quite the cookies & the ‘welcome to the neighbourhood’ I was anticipating.
 
Weeny was unfortunate enough to ring me, still seething, en route to Tesco’s.
 
After patiently listening to my rant, she confessed that in my situation, she would have gone nose-to-nose with the Medusa & told her to ‘F*** OFF !’
It does have it’s appeal, I will admit. 

 
Cx


  
  
  

We apologise for any interruption to transmission, do not adjust your sets ...

I haven't been able to post for the last few days,
most people's Blogs seem a little sparse, so perhaps it
was a problem with Blogger rather than my Blog ?

I even took the precaution of e-mailing the entry to Stan, in case this won't publish, if you are reading this Stan, then you can ditch
the e-mail, cheers.

So with apologies for tardiness, here is Tuesday's entry


A delightful waste of time …


Blogging at this dining table, in this house in Leith Hill is the most perfect and absorbing place to write. However,I waste so much time staring out of the window. The dining room window overlooks a clearing in woodland. Yesterday, I watched motionless as a hind picked her way daintily through the grass, selecting choice leaves & pausing, foreleg raised, every third or fourth mouthful to check she was safe & unapproached. I know deer aren’t endangered & we’ve all seen them, it’s just the thrill of being able to watch one from 5 feet away

I have also been watching a flycatcher recently (yes Weeny, it’s a bird). She has nested in the open space above a newly-fitted window & flits back & forth industriously, her beak crammed with goodies for her brood. She’s there as I type now, perched in a beech tree, tail dipping.

Last week I watched a young fox cub stalk & catch a baby rabbit. He didn’t so much stalk it really, the rabbit stalked him. It approached, completely oblivious to the danger, the fox just lay down quietly, then timed the leap when bunny was too close to avoid the inevitable.

My attitude to animals is more pragmatic PNZ. There was a time when I would have knocked on the window to scare the rabbit & fox away. Now, I appreciate the fox has to eat.

On which subject, do me a favour, or not, your choice. Next time you’re buying your chicken (in the UK this is) check that it really is free-range or RSPCA approved. I was listening to ‘Farming Today’ one morning & was dismayed to hear that these days chickens are starved for their 6 short weeks of life. I was very surprised to hear this, it’s somehow more upsetting than hearing about the practice of over-feeding. The rationale is that starving them prevents the leg & heart problems associated with over-feeding. It’s horribly ironic to imagine an animal starving for 6 weeks to feed me.

What’s really sick, is a ‘normal’ chicken costs 1.99 & the free-range one I bought costs 7.00. Which one is the family on a budget going to choose ?

I’ll stop here, before people think they’re reading Joe’s Blog :)

Some thank you’s

Linda & Garth, Weeny & Trudy.

All of whom helped, lugging my surprisingly large amount of personal belongings into a Transit van on Saturday.

Biggest thanks though, go to Turbo.

Not only did he spend an entire day being driven from Leith Hill, to Epsom, to Kingston, to Crystal Palace, to West Molesey, to Kingston.
But if ever someone was justified in getting out of their pram, it would be when they’re supporting the entire weight of a sofa, going up a flight of stairs, trying to bend the thing around a 90 degree corner, whilst the person at the top intones, ‘It won’t go, it won’t go’ & stops taking any weight. He didn’t, by the way. Get out of his pram that is. Just took the door off the hinges.

Just as Sharon arrived & we met for the 1st time.

Well done you.

I have just had to rescue to postman from Jasper. He was standing with the letters above his head in classic surrender pose whilst Jasper barked threateningly around his ankles. Barley was joining in, just for the hell of it.

‘I won’t come any closer love, cos he goes for me’ he said as I shuffled out in Xmas neddy slippers to retrieve the bounty.

He’s right too, Jasper’s a classic coward, barking ferociously at anyone he senses is scared of him but backing off worriedly when you really would like him to bark at the scary-looking loner, who’s been following, on your woodland walk for the last 10 minutes.

Jasper & I have had many discussions about where a dog fits in to the general scheme of things. The dogs are sitting at my feet now, awaiting their walk, so I’ll sign off & go stretch my legs.

Trudes,

Good luck today, with your Sergeant’s exam, I will ring you later to find out how you got on.

Bill

Here’s some random words, as requested to see what Blog adverts are generated.

Incontinence. Flatulence. Gangrene. House mites

How soon til you come back ?

Cx

Toady is a mongral – bitch !

Police stations in the Met have a method of sending non-urgent messages to each other called MSS or Message Switching System. The sort of messages you can expect to receive usually refer to lost property & the like.

Lost & found animals occasionally feature too.

Approximately 6 or 7 years ago, Weeny & I laughed til our guts hurt when I rushed out to the Station Office clutching a missive, which began …

‘Toady is a mongral – bitch.’

I should perhaps explain.

There was no spellcheck on MSS (still isn’t come to that) & if you employ
someone whose grasp of grammer & speeling isn’t great, they can send messages willy-nilly with no idea of the hilarity they are causing the recipients.

This operator (from Southwark as I recall) meant to circulate the following …

‘Today, is a mongrel bitch ….’ and go on to describe the unfortunate lost female dog.

Grammatically not the best arrangement I know, & not nearly as pant-wettingly funny as what he actually sent.

Every now & then, in the subsequent years Weeny & I have greeted each other on the telephone with those words. It never fails to amuse.

Today saw the return of Toady !

I read an incident reporting a theft, by one of my colleagues who must have been in a hurry to record the details (that’s the kind interpretation, because I like him)

As I collapsed, wheezing & breathless at the back of the room, someone asked what was so funny ?

‘Look at incident such & such’ I said, squeezing the words out between asthmatic gasps.

‘I don’t get it’, what’s funny about that ?’, asked my non-plussed colleague, as he read the 1st line of the call …

‘Inft was teacing toady …’

The informant was actually ‘teaching today’ when he discovered that some of his belongings had been stolen at school, but I couldn’t dislodge the really sad image of him pointing his finger, teasing ‘Toady’ & calling her names.

I didn’t bother trying to explain.

I just rang Weeny instead … she got it.



I want to tell you about Dave.

Hx has already met Dave so she can skip this bit, & Bill knows him of old, but the rest of you are missing a treat. Dave is a PC whom I work with in the Control Room. He can be short-tempered (worse so recently, as he’s given up smoking, say no more) but I have to say, regardless of his temper, I have a lot of time for him. His response to most incidents in which someone is rude is ‘Well, I would have told him to f**k right off’. Oddly, when dealing with someone like that himself, he is polite & professional & will invariably address them as ‘Sir’, which I struggle to do (especially if they’re female)

Not only is he a very experienced operator who will quite happily take stick as well as dishes it out, he has the best lexicography of insulting sayings bar none. He puts my Gran to shame. He also has a beautiful Aprilia sportsbike with a deeply offensive, wonderfully noisy exhaust. I can hear when Dave’s arrived at work, even when I am in the building.

He also does the best ‘pissed, falling down stairs’ stunt I have ever seen.

Some of Dave’s more memorables are …

‘If you’re looking for sympathy, you’ll find it in the dictionary between sh1t & syphillis’

It is perhaps unfortunate that he says this to burglary victims. Joke.



‘Everyone has the right to be ugly, but she abuses the privilege’

Ugly bird, say no more.



‘She has a face like a bulldog licking pi55 off a thistle’

As above.


‘They’re meat mate, not crystal’

This is in response to anyone unfortunate enough to ask a particularly stupid question over the p/r eg. ‘Dave, what colour are the suspect’s trousers ?’


‘Here’s 10p mate, go phone someone who gives a sh1t’

This is when you tell Dave something you assume he will be bothered about
Ie ‘Dave, watch your language, the Superintendent is standing behind you’


And the new one today, which got me thinking of this topic in the 1st place,

‘I can’t stand the bitch, I wouldn’t pi55 in her mouth if her gums were on fire’

‘You don’t like her then Dave ?’


You might get the impression from all this that he’s a rude, annoying boor, but as I said earlier I have no problem with him & when he leaves, I will miss his colourful sayings & blue touch paper outbursts. Just one other thing.
He gets a gun in his new job.


You have to pity the poor sod who tries to get to know me.

Not only does he have to fight his way past Internet stalkers & trained assassins but he has to deal with a veritable set of matching Samsonites in the way of baggage.


Cx

I have a friend who works with nasty, scummy people.

(Several actually, but one in particular)

They are very concerned that one of these nasty, scummy peole might read Q4A. Hey don't knock it, every reader welcome.

They are also concerned that one of these nasty, scummy people might be an Internet stalker like Bill suggested (thanks for planting the seed Bill)

They have suggested that I disguise all references to my address, which I have done because quite frankly, they scare me (my friend, not the nasty scummy people)

So, if you are a nasty, scummy people, planning on stalking, then murdering me, here are the rules ...


1. Take a ticket & join the queue

2. Spare Humpy, he's innocent

3. If you are serious about killing me, you would have printed off
yesterday's entry & recced the address by now. You need to know the
following things ...

a) I know some very scary people

b) My Gran will shake you

c) a) & b) are linked.

Cx

P***** Bound …
Was the name of one of the fillies at Trelawney. P***** Road is where the flat is.

R****** C**** is the name of the block that I’m moving to & R****** is where Malcolm & Justine live. They were instrumental in me visiting NZ. It’s not number *, which is my favourite number, but it is an **** number & we all know ***** are good & **** are bad don’t we ? If the landline number end in even digits, all will be well.

The obsessives know what I mean.

I came to realise during my year away that someone is taking care of me. Whenever I think things won’t work out, the best thing I can do is relax, stop churning against the water & allow the hand behind ne to support my chin.

It’s a lovely feeling, very calming.

I visited the new flat today to measure up for carpets. I had fielded a call from a very worried Sharon who explained that she was was worried that her boxes were ‘strewn everywhere’. I ripped into her & said that after 3 days I expected her to be completely clean & tidy. I was thrilled to see how messy her stuff was because come Saturday, that’s how my stuff will look.

Anyone free to lend a hand ? I can’t promise anything other than a ride in a Transit van & a tour of Crystal Palace, West Molesey & Epsom.

As I entered the flat today, I had a reassuring feeling of coming home. Matt & Claire have really bust a gut to get the place ship-shape & it looks unrecognisable from the place I visited a couple of weeks ago. It smelled of clean washing & from the bits & pieces I saw of Sharon’s I can’t see how we could fail to get on.

Anyone who has box upon box of BBC Wildlife magazines, Bill Bryson’s, & a box marked ‘candles’ just has to be a good person.

Happy Birthday Sharon.

She told me today it was ‘the big one’. She means 30, bless her.

As I drove to work at 0530 this morning I regarded the balmy marbled skies & laughed at the severe weather warning forecast for 5pm. At 5pm as I trudged, sopping wet, to Woolworth’s to buy a tape measure, I wasn’t laughing quite so heartily.

I finally got home at 8.30pm after a last minute CBRN scare in Kingston Town Centre. After work I headed off to price up carpets. My lack of sleep last night meant I had to pull in off the A243 for a nap after scaring myself by being woken several times by the rumble strips.

Once home I waited for the rain to ease off to exercise the dogs. And waited. And waited. Finally at 9pm we headed out. I don’t think I have ever been for a walk with an umbrella before but tonight was something special.

Rhododendron Wood as darkness arrived was magical. Rushing water dragged leaves & branches along at an impressive rate and the smell of the peaty water rinsed away 10 hours indoors. The dogs thought it was fantastic.

Michelle, remember the time you saved the ducklings from the overflow pipe in the back paddock ? Like that. Eric, remember how we regarded each other, warm & dry in the living room, then looked outside at the torrents & asked if we should go look for Michelle ? We decided it was best for only 1 adult to drown didn’t we ? If all 3 of us drowned, the kids would have starved, unable as they are to cook for themselves.

That’s it for tonight, have to go catch up on some of last night’s sleep now, difficult to do a CBRN on no sleep.

Cx

ps. Mum, made 2 new appointments today, you would have been proud of me
I was assertive and polite.

Odd ?

I did a huge entry last night, & no trace of it this morning.

It's there on my Blog dashboard showing it's been published ?

Hmmmm.

Cx

‘I’m sorry, I haven’t a clue’

Not how I feel in general, but the best programme on Radio 4, which I have just finished listening to. Even if you’ve never listened to anything on Radio 4, because you’re young & trendy, do yourself a favour & tune in just once.

Monday evenings 6.30pm. 93.2 fm

Having said that, this series has just finished & next Monday it’s ‘Just a Minute’ which though chucklesome, is not laugh out loud like ‘ISIHAC’

‘Look, look, she’s brought cowboy boots.’
‘No, they’re my normal boots actually’
‘Oh’.

What an excellent evening. Hx, you must come next year. And you Bloo.

My only regret ? Buying wine, dips & nibbles & inviting the gurls to Leith Hill first. Why ? Because I couldn’t shift any of the herd from the house & we arrived at the stables at a run at 9.10pm, some 2 & a half hours after it had started.

Every time I threatened to remove the alcohol someone would say
‘But I haven’t got changed yet/put my fake freckles on/done my hair’
I felt like a very unsuccessful sheepdog. There were 5 of us & only Lorna (Angie’s sister) wasn’t drinking, which meant she got lumbered with driving.
Sorry Lorna. Thank you Lorna. Sorry Lorna.

Well done Weeny, who as well as providing glitter stetsons (green for Ange, silver for herself, purple (what else) for Trudy & red for myself) came equipped with acres of gingham & lots of hairbands. She was also on top form & only the fact that she is hugely entertaining means none of us minded when she told the ‘Doc Martin candle story’, yet again. She really hogged the conversation actually. I would hate to be like that.

As I type I am watching 2 bungee-wabbits cropping the grass. Eric, you would be pleased to know that I lined them up when I first saw them.

Anyway, back to the barn dance …
I would be lying if I said we weren’t squiffy.

We had missed most of the gorgeous food, had some burgers flung our way (thought June would shout at us, but she didn’t – phew) & had no choice but to get stuck straight into the dancing. We had neglected to bring glasses too, so had to swig wine straight from the bottles. Classy.

The funniest thing was, everyone else had enjoyed 2 hours of tuition & we just ran onto the floor, twirling, yipping & gyrating. We had not a clue of what we were supposed to be doing but the alcohol meant that we thought we looked the business.

Several people (kindly ladies mostly) would try & shepherd us in the right direction, when they noticed our errors, usually muttering ‘you’re going the WRONG way’ ‘Oh well’ we would respond cheerfully, skipping off, unable to catch each other’s eyes for fear of collapsing completely.

Cocky confided to me that the routines were ‘a lot easier before you lot got here’. She’s probably just being mean.

Weeny continued to impress. If she found herself in the middle of a routine with which she was unfamiliar she would stand on the spot, assume the ‘ho-down’ position, tuck her thumbs into her imaginary braces & ‘yee-ha’ with huge gusto. If she felt especially energetic, the hat would be removed with a theatrical flourish & waved aloft whilst slapping the imaginary neddy to giddy-up.

The thing I love most about my friends is their ability to laugh at themselves & enjoy this kind of event to the hilt. I can’t be doing with precious folk who worry that their make-up might smudge or their Manolos get dirty.

In one of the dances, Weeny was unfortunate enough to have to partner Dave –‘Whoa ya bastard’- Green, or ‘Greeny’ as he is also known on the yard. Weeny & Greeny, ha ha ! Dave is known by his long moniker because it would appear he rides a horse to prove what a man he is. He rides a perfectly pleasant, well-behaved horse, which Dave tries to rev up to make his riding appear more impressive. His party-piece is to enter the local, very low-key jumping competitions. He proceeds to kick his horse on, whilst simultaneously holding him back. Consequently, he arrives at a jump wildly out of control, legs a-flapping, shouting ‘Whoa ya bastard’ Hugely entertaining. Unless you’re the horse.

Dave had been pointed out to Weeny as ‘Someone Worth Avoiding’ but she claims not to remember. Unsurprising really. Turns out Dave dances like he rides, and them some. Weeny’s right upper arm was black with bruises from being ‘swung’. We had the last laugh though as every time Greeny bent down to go ‘under an arch’ a boot seemed to find his ar5e. Oh dear.

All too soon, it was home-time. The return car journey seemed very quick. Probably not to Lorna though. Sorry Lorna. Thank you Lorna. Sorry Lorna.
Angie & Lorna headed off & I was forced by the coven to start lighting a fire from scratch (they made me do it the Tanners). We then drank & talked until bedtime at 0230. With hindsight, it was probably unwise to do one of those.
Oh well.

I won’t bore you with the details of the hangover the next day. Work said I couldn’t have compassionate leave, which seems a little harsh. I hung off the keyboard grimly clock-watching until 10pm.

Girls – 2 things.

June has asked for the full cost of the tickets from each of us. She said she felt awkward in doing so but I told her that it was our own fault for not being able to get our carcasses there on time. The money goes to the Headley Heath Riders Association, I hope you don’t mind ? I have settled up with June for all of us.

She said repeatedly today, what good VFM we were & took great delight in recounting a comment from one elderly chap, who asked her ‘Who - pant - are – pant – all – pant – these – pant – lovely – pant – young – pant – ladies – pant – and – pant - aren’t – pant – they – pant – marvellous – pant - dancers ?’ That’s got to be worth a tenner.


Neddy pestering.

Today was a lovely day. I took the dogs out first thing for a run, with me on a mountain bike. Great fun for half of the distance (downhill), bloody hard slog for the uphill bit, my thighs were screaming for mercy after roughly 28 seconds of concerted effort. I then took Barley Marley to the stables with me. Jasper is banned from accompanying us as he is

1) too unfit & 2) too stupid to do as he’s told.

I rode CB & Hannah & tried to get rid of some off Barley’s surplus fat. She is on a diet. I am determined she will look dog-shaped, not loaf of bread shaped by the time the Davisons return. They do a great job of looking after Barley, for which I am hugely grateful but seem not to notice that she is twice the size she should be.

It was a stunning day today, sunny, about 23 degrees with a light breeze. Headley Heath was draped in a mantle of purple ling & the feeling of being bathed in green fern was a fantastic tonic. My sense of scale seems to be returning & as I looked around today, I repeatedly told myself how lucky I was to be able to ride such lovely horses in such idyllic surroundings.

Palace Road – the new flat.

Yesterday I collected my keys & met my new landlords Claire & Matt. They couldn’t have been nicer & I think I may have really fallen on my feet. I also spoke to Sharon for the 1st time today. She was lovely & extremely easy to chat to. She is very fit & does a lot of training, including bike-riding & ‘paddling’ as she called it. She works at Kew Gardens & I think we are going to get on just fine.

FAQ’s

I have hired another Transit for this Sat 10th, & move my stuff in to Palace Road then. Trudes, Weeny & Cocky, are you all around on Saturday for me to collect my chattels ?

I don’t actually move in until the 22nd July, which is the day the Davisons get back from their month long holiday in NZ.

I will then be walking distance from work & the gym & a 30 minute drive to the stables.

I haven’t decided whether to buy a motorbike again. The new GSX-R 750 is stunning & calls to me.

I hope to get a laptop at the beginning of August.

I am still planning upon returning to NZ.


Right, I am off for a hot shower now, as I can feel myself seizing up. After that, it’s an early night with a hot chocolate & a book.

Yesterday was a very hard day. I asked a question to which I didn’t really want to know the answer. Why do we do that to ourselves ? Back to the wobbly tooth scenario.

Today was the 1st day in 75 that I haven’t felt utterly miserable.
Don’t know why, maybe it was just the exercise endorphins, but whatever it was, it felt better. I haven’t felt like writing because of this malaise, I hope today was a corner turned.

Love to Milky, glad The Tanners are as hospitable as ever.
The cottage & Cedar Lodge will work it’s magic on you, honest.
Sorry you miss your moggy, hopefully Dusty will be happy to be squeezed in lieu.

Bloo – I will be around tomorrow morning before going riding.
If you can bear to miss Home & Away a phone call would be lovely.

Bill – Is it your mobile which is knackered ? E-mailed you yesterday as a tester, let me know if it got to you, if it did, I will send you a catch-up one.

Stu – In amongst the kitchen equipt was a frying pan lid with no frying pan, a bin with no inner & one lone cup. Am I on the Generation Game ? ‘Cuddly toy’

Mum – Will speak to the person you recommended tomorrow morning – thanks.

Harriette – Sorry you had a lousy birthday. I recommend you go to ______’s party & behave like a cow to get even. But don’t tell your Mum & Dad I said so.

Alice – Don’t invite ______ to your party.

MTM – Received. Don’t think this gets you out of owing another 142 though.

Ang – Did you know the spell-check declares you to be an angel ? Aaah

Stan – I thoroughly recommend you come here for green-time, dinner, & a bottle of red. I’ll even let you have a go on the mountain bike if you’re good.
My next days off are 15th/16th July, what are you up to then ? I still need a list of your forthcoming w/e’s off so we can arrange ‘Straight eye for the Queer Guy’

Hx Compulsive, keep it up.


Today’s ‘I don’t recognise the country I live in’ moment came when I heard on the radio, there are moves afoot to pass an amendment to the law making it illegal for parents to slap their own kids. The motion was defeated today, but how long until we are ‘in line with the rest of Europe.’ ?

Some do-gooder lefty was bleating that if the guy sitting next to him in the studio hit him, it would be inappropriate & yet he was allowed to hit his own kid. The response from his neighbour was ‘It would also be inappropriate if I bathed you & changed your nappy but I am able to do that to my baby daughter’. Parents don’t hit their kids for fun (unless you’re really twisted) but because they want them to behave in an appropriate manner because they CARE about them. I can count on 1 hand, the times I was slapped by my parents, yet the fear of it as the ultimate deterrent, made me the well-mannered individual I am today (not counting barn dances).

Get a grip.

Sorry it’s been leviathan, but if anyone’s still with me, well done.

Cx

Yahoo !

My fabulous e-mail provider has given, yes given, me 2.0GB of storage.
How kind is that ?

Happy Birthday Evil Gifted One, will ring you your evening, my Sat am.
Hope my card got to you ?

All I have done this week is abuse Bloo on other blogs, I haven't had the time, or the peace of mind to write properly. I hope to redress that in the coming week.

Tomorrow is the Barn Dance. I am excited in a very uncool way.
Angie, Lorna (Angie's sister), Trudy, Weeny & Cocky are all definites.
Stan has to save the pubic of London & is unable to make it.
Hx if you are still up for it, give me a bell tomorrow.
Weeny is desperate for us to attend en masse in gingham,stetsons,plaits & fake freckles so the photos should be worth seeing. I fear I may have flashbacks to the Hinuera Rugby Club Wild West Night ... surely there can't be 2 men who dance like that ? Can there, Eric ?

Cx

Oooooooooooooooooooh Dear