As I am undergoing a metamorphosis of some small proportion I decided I would recreate a look from times gone by and start to wear some palazzo pants, or as the Americans like to call them ” lounge pants”
Its altogether a more casual look and, lets face it, at my age I should be into comfort as well. So I’m padding around the home and office in voluminous blouses and even more voluminous trousers. It seems to fit my current state of mind rather well. I am also considering the “dolphin saga” LM isn’t given to flights of fancy. So when he said he saw a dolphin, you know he saw a dolphin. He also said that he called me but I ignored him. That bit I dispute. I was in the shower and with a mountain of pressured water bouncing off my scalp I think I could be forgiven for not replying and definitely NOT HEARING HIM! Anyway he said that he saw some dolphins quite close to land and shouted to me – “Dolphins Ahoy!” ( that bit I made up.) He probably said…”Hey. Look. Dolphins. I think”… and then went back to his cornflakes As I didn’t respond in any way, he said it was my fault I missed this golden opportunity. As I sometimes reply to Jonny when he says something dubious…..Hmmmmmmm .
Artur seems to have Skype on Speed dial
Some of you will remember that when the Bird from Billericay blotted her copy book with Artur and the Scandinavians at his very swish (North) Cypriot Villa, he asked me if I could find him a replacement. Arthur doesn’t like being on holiday on his own and as he was there for a few more months the vacancy needed to be filled.
At the time I didn’t know whether to feel flattered or like a “Madam” but in any event as Mary was gagging for a break, I sent her over. I had not heard a lot from either of them lately and thought it had to be going rather well, until I got a notification on my PC ( who uses Skype these days anyway??) saying Artur was hoping for a connection. I have to admit I did ignore it a few times but as he doesn’t like WhatsAp I knew if I wanted to speak to him I would have to comply.
I tried hard not to have this conversation late into the night because I know Artur would be several over the limit and become argumentative. When he says lets have a drink or two, he usually means ” bottles” not ” glasses” In the end we settled on a late afternoon here in the UK which meant that Artur would only be on his second or third over in Cyprus. The conversation didn’t go too well because he opened up the conversation with the ” I guess you think you are funny” sketch over the fact that I sent Mary out there with copious bottle of Creme de Menthe which was what had sent the Bird from Billericay on the plane home. I was guessing that Mary had been sent out on an errand during this conversation or taking a snooze in the King size bed in the master bedroom. A room which she seems to have taken over completely ( Oh fools rush in, comes to mind) and more particularly the ex wife’s wardrobe full of clothes.
Anyway it would appear that Mary did very well to begin with. She was, indeed, very happy to wear all of the kaftans that his Ex had left in the wardrobes and floated around with them all day. Artur romanticised for a moment and said that initially she would wander around with just the kaftans and nothing on underneath. His voice took on a lower tone and his eyes became misty, so I coughed loudly and brought him back to the conversation before he took a turn down a road I wouldnt wish to be with him on!
Artur said she got into the swing of the swimming ” a la natural” late at night once they were alone and was always up for his many suggestions which he unnecessarily told me ranged from handcuffs on the bed; pretending to be his nurse and administering spankings when he didn’t take his medicine to a spot of striptease on the floodlit balcony. I think she was duty bound to try hard because between you and me he invited Mai Lin over from the local Chinese Chippie one night to add some Oriental flavour to the proceedings. Not long after that, Mary text me to say that she didn’t mind ” standing down” occasionally, but she didn’t want ” just anyone” using her kaftans and chains, especially as when Mai Lin came over she often smelt of sweet and sour pork balls. Apparently, Mai Lin jumped into the pool one night and Mary was amazed at her capacity to both hold her breath and suck at the same time. She said she waivered between amazement and awe!
I know. I know. But imagine me having to listen to this first hand!
So Artur feeling particularly pithy that day thought he would call me and let rip with everything that had gone wrong. Its almost as if I am the Customer Services Complaints Department for Mary and whatever she does. He told me that one night when they had the dreaded Scandinavians in for dinner Mary had suggested some late night swimming. No matter how much Artur tried to signal across the eight foot made of real hard wood dining room table ( his words, not mine) for her to stop, she continued. Fuelled up by far too much Ouzo, she took Erik by the hand and led him outside to the patio where she proceeded to try to undo his shirt. As that was slow going she tried on the trousers but jammed her finger in the belt and finally after getting fed up with his protestations just stripped off herself and jumped into the pool. By that time Agneta had followed them outside and as Mary had wanted to show off she simply jumped into the pool – very much naked, save for a faux diamond belt which only had the effect of cutting her more than ample midriff in half – and ended up soaking everyone on the poolside. ” Come on everyone, the water’s lovely” at which point, the Scandinavians left and probably after this conversation with Artur, Mary wont be far behind them.
I simply don’t know why she couldn’t stick with the BP who is really a rather decent chap. I think the idea of a holiday villa ( yes, villa, not apartment!); a top of the range Jag and a swish apartment on Southend seafront rather turned her head but as we always know, Artur being an Accountant would always want to balance the books and as we like to say ” nothing for nothing!”
LM’s needlework is not up to the mark
Having enjoyed a very nice Pub Lunch the previous week with some members of the Fossil Set, I got up and started to make tracks for home. Searching for my coat, The Book Peddler, in a very gentlemanly way as always, helped me on with it. He thought he would further the joke by spinning me around and offering to do up my buttons when” Zut Alors” what happened next? It would appear that the buttons which LM had so carefully sewed back on last week had decided to unravel themselves and went spinning off across the flagstones. Now whilst it didn’t really matter as I had a spare, it didn’t take long for the Book Peddler to say ” Tut tut – what’s happened to Dec and his sewing skills?” in a rather loud stage whisper. I really didn’t want to get into any sort of conversation over missing buttons but I could see that the Book Peddler would indeed cite it as sloppy. Being poorly dressed would not be something that the BP would be found guilty of as I glanced down and saw he had on cerise pink socks presumably to match his cerise pink cravat. M’Lud, I rest my case!
As a further indictment of my foolishness, according to the BP, I had purchased a copy of a Peter James novel for LM. This was a small token of my appreciation (yes, appreciation, not affection) for running around after me lately with sewing; house clearance and generally being a Good Egg. He always gets annoyed if I personally grovel; drop to one knee and kiss his hand in gratitude so I thought a Book might serve me better. I also notice he gets a very worried look in his eye if he thinks I am going to carry out any sort of tactile act which will involve him. Once I used to give him a hug if he was particularly kind to me but then I started to see the nervous look appear in his eye and on the last few occasions he actually flinched when I did so. Therefore, purchasing a book would appear to be the more safer option in LM’s eyes. He probably thinks that any sort of touching between us, however innocent and unintentional, may cause him to question if he has been unfaithful to the current squeeze and so “I don’t push it!” I don’t want to cause any unnecessary angst, however well meaning my actions were, to people of either a nervous disposition or simply years older than me!
The Book Peddler almost spat his Shiraz across the table when I said that it was a Peter James novel because, according to the BP, it is akin to reading the Daily Mail and not only reading it – but doing so on line as well! I think there was an element of jealousy here. After all Peter James is a prolific writer and has a huge following. The BP looked at me and said rather witheringly
” Yep and so did Trump and look what happened to him!”.
During all of this debacle of the lost buttons and the nude swimming at night-time, I had an email from The Pilot congratulating me on moving into my new abode. He said it was no bad thing seeing the caravan take off into the sunset and even though caravans have always been in my family ( ??????) – he continued it was about time I went back to traditional living. Deep in his consciousness he says he will forever imagine me now with a scarf around my head and copious amounts of tea-leaves. I would say, and in fact I did say, to him that it was a rather spiteful remark and that the caravan was merely a means to an end, and anyone who has the temerity to purchase seven, yes seven different types of motorbikes could be constructed as slightly odd! I thought about my reply back to him concerning the tea leaves and headscarf and simply wrote ” Sire, you have got it wrong. You do not imagine me in a headscarf surrounded by tea leaves but in something rather flimsy and a smile”
His reply was rather grounding and when he starts any email to me with “JACKS!” in capitals, I always know I am in for a roasting. He started by saying that it was not good protocol to write to him in such a provocative manner, however tongue in cheek I perceive it to be. He had given me some advice all those years ago and said he would repeat it for no other reason than to prove his was right. Had I forgotten it so soon? At this point I felt he would puff up his very ample chest, even whilst sitting at his desk; draw breath and then continue. And continue he did…….
The advice was several and varied and started off with “ don’t marry the bloody Irishman“! Even though I didn’t end up marrying the Irishman I was in the mess I am currently in now, moving around with Lounge Lizards and dubious half wits because I didn’t heed his words all those years before. There then followed a bit of a gap between the paragraphs which I took to be him drawing breath again to make a point all those miles away. He further opined that he quite often stares out into the distance and ponders his fate. However, it doesn’t do to dwell on such matters now bearing in mind the place we are both in! I may do well to heed his advice – again!
And finally….. Lois has been very kind and given me a recipe for Meat Loaf. I aim to try it out before my next evening with the Fossils. The BP, having once owned a rather swish restaurant himself in Arundel between his career as a Hedge Fund Manager and a Book Shop Owner, said he would be very happy to pop over and oversee the cooking. I see the similarity between himself and Johnnie Craddock. Both have a leaning towards bright colours and a cravat, but I draw the line at dressing anything like old Fanny or imbibing anywhere as much as she used to whilst trussing a chicken. ! Another sherry Jonnie? Hic! Hic!