Touch your toes

My friend everard came round this morning to tell me of his latest escapade. He's been down to see his old scoutmaster and has booked the scouts hut every Saturday morning and is going to hold keep fit classes. He's always got something on the go. And he never sticks to things. It'll be the boxing all over again, I remember when he started that we couldn't get him in the ring, and once we did, we couldn't get him out! Think that one through.

Anyway I said to him 'It won't last!', 'Lawrence,' he said, 'I'm going to keep it up, and I want everyone to join me, young or old. We need to keep our bodies fit for what lies ahead, and I can see the error of my ways.'

'Everard,' I said, 'I've been trying to drill it in to you for years. A healthy body makes a healthy mind, so think big, get Slack Alice to join, and Vera Titsall, but forget about Maud till you get on to hand stands. Start them off by standing on one leg for five minutes and see how you go, forget about press ups till later, because once Slack gets down on the floor you'll never get her up. Don't push it too far, give them a fighting chance. I'll mention it to Slack, I'm going round there today to brush the greenfly off her leeks.

Who's next Isla?

"Now, your names Alfred and you're married to John. . . . No! . . . Joan . . . We all make mistakes."

Nobody knows how I suffer

The sleepless nights I've had. On May 16th, I'll never forget that day if I live to be 32, I went over in the street. I was just popping to church because the Rev. Camp had called everyone because his candle delivery had been delayed. There was a brouhaha going on at the 'dip your wick' factory. Apparently the girls on the dipping line had been denied a second tea break and the management changed the biscuit order from Garibaldi to a plain digestive. Well, I feel for them. I really do. I was cock a hoop when I heard.

Anyway, needs must and Rev. Camp had run out of candles and was calling round to all and sundry. He was in a panic as he had midnight service coming up. When he called me I could hear the pain in his voice. 'Lal, ' He said 'I was just wondering if you could possible lend me a candle?'

'Reverand,' I said 'We're all in the same boat what with the dip your wick girls all out for better biscuits, In fact I was going to ask you for one of the big church candles to see me through the strike. Don't tell me you've run out of them as well'

'Yes, there's a terrible shortage, I can't get any for love nor money. Even the Archdeacons stopped answering his doorbell now.'

'That's mean,' I said ' It's the same with Everard, I bet he's got one hidden away, If you pop round and see Slack she might be able to give you a night light.'

'No,' He said 'I've already tried her, when I left she was searching the drawers for stumps, and when I think of all the candle-ends I've thrown away, I'd be grateful now for just a couple of inches,'

'You're not alone,' I said. And with that I promised to look for some old candle ends in the kitchen drawers. As luck would have it I found some in an old Horlicks jar marked string. I was rushing them round to St. Agathas when the accident happened. The heel of my kitten boot went into a hole, not a large hole as holes go but I find that the smallest of holes can cause grief. I heard a terrible crunching coming from the outside of my left foot and I thought 'well there goes my blakey.'

I was slumped on the floor, faint as a robin, and was helped over to a bench by two passing nuns and a boy sucking a blood orange. Well, Dr. Tizzard said I've to keep my foot above my heart at all times and have complete rest. Which is why its been a while since I last spoke. It's very difficult to type with your foot on top of the monitor.

The worst thing about all this of course is that the local dance competition is coming up on Saturday. I was determined to get first prize when I pulled off a 'dashing white sergeant.'

Ooh look, a reader.

Home Taping Is Killing Music: Love You Long Time

The reverend Camp

I apologise for the lack of an entry this week. I went to a party on Sunday evening with my friend, Everard. I don't know what they had in that punchbowl but I only had half a glass and I was out for two days. Of course Everard was livid when I came round claiming I'd done it for attention and moaning about how I knew he had wanted to be the one that did the macarena, Mind you I couldn't understand a bit of what he was saying as I can't remember a thing. The last memory I had was walking over to Gladys Allcock and asking if her Fred was still having trouble going through tunnels. He's been in a fowl mood all week, he thinks he's always right and knows what's best. Mind you he has just had his ears pierced.

Anyway, Its been quite a slow week having lost Monday and Tuesday. Wednesday I was as weak as a robin and could hardly raise my head from the pillow. I decided to stay put and catch up with all my old Emmerdale Farm videos. I do still worry for Joe Sugden. By Wednesday evening I had a bit of colour back in my cheeks and decided to go for a stroll to the corner shop for a few essentials, tea, milk, Gypsy Creams and some stickjaw toffee. Thursday morning I'd just sat down with a cup of tea after dipping my nets when the door bell went and it was the Rev. Camp. They've terrible trouble with dry rot coming down through the roof and rising damp coming up through the floor, God only knows what will happen when they meet. The Rev. Camp is holding a bring and buy and was looking for anything I might have lying about. Well I looked upstairs in the spare room where I keep all of the old props and nonsense to see what I had. We found the riding boots I wore in that marvelous dramatic play 'The Reluctant Huntsman', the title was changed when we went on tour to 'The Man Who Wouldn't Mount', plus the snowshoes I wore in 'Three Months Up The Klondyke' and the stuffed ferret that played an important role in 'Gone, Gone And Never Called Me Mother!'

Freddie Fillet

I woke up this morning with the thought of sausage. I don't know why but I was ravenous, normally of a morning I can only stomach the thought of a cup of tea and possibly, if the mood takes me, a bowl of grape nuts. Mind you, the mind works in mysterious ways and I couldn'’t shake the thought of a nice sausage. I decided to pop down to Freddie Fillet our local butcher and get some sausage casings, a half pound of ox tongue and a pound of best belly pork, you see I'’m like my dear old mother, she always made her own sausages, never ever bought ready made. She liked a bit of belly and always wanted to see what was going in.

When I got to Freddie'’s I was reminded of an ill fated romance he had with Apricot Lil, my friend who works down the jam factory. It all happened one Sunday morning when she was riding past his shop just as he was laying out his tripe. It was love at first site and before you knew it she was helping out in the back room rolling his faggots. Mind you that suited Freddie as she had a wonderful touch and used to do it with her eyes closed, she said it helped her to find the gristly bits. And to be fair she was very good, she had the knack of getting them just the right shape and size, she used to weigh them in the palm of her hand, and you always got three to the pound!

Unfortunately it all ended in tears, as these things often do. I don't know the ins and outs of it, but rumour has it that he had asked her to twist his chipolatas while he fetched some meat down from the very top shelf. She said "I'’ll twist your chipolatas when there'’s a ring on my finger," and he, being a bit deaf, replied "The steaks are too high."

Well, that was that, she threw him an old fashioned look, had a nervous nasty and left the shop. His door was still swinging when she was being consoled by Sterilised Stan the milkman who happened to be passing.

Do you know, I don'’t think I could accomodate a sausage now. It's the ox tongue that's putting me off, I don't fancy anything thats come out of an animals mouth.

I'll settle for a soft boiled egg.