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.'