Another bank holiday!

Well, it's another bank holiday and hurrah if you enjoy lazing around and 'blow' if you don't. The house needs loads of TLC/DIY/Whatever spent on it but I just can't be bothered if I'm honest. Margaret mentioned that Roger et al may be popping around once the shop closed but I put my foot down this time stating that the grass sorely needed cutting and Roger had mentioned a rather pernitious bout of hayfever which put the mockers on things somewhat.

Margaret spent the whole morning ordering things from the Betterware catalogue for her new flat - goodness knows why? Apparently her parents have gifted her £4,235 from the sale of their house to a local builder [who can address the subsidence issue and sell it on for a huge profit no doubt] so she's added some to her vast ISA/savings/whatever and to save on tax they've strangely provided her with £250 worth of Betterware vouchers to spend on total rubbish I doubt she'll ever use and will forever clutter up her undersink cupboard. Here's what she purchased:

Lace modesty panels [for use with low necked clothing] - pack of 3 - £5.49
Meercat bin stickers - £2.99
Paint your own gnome - £8.99
Floral washing bags (2) - £4.49
Shoe-shaped shoe-shine - £3.49
Swan 3D ornamental puzzle - £7.49
Satin lace nightcap - £3.49
LED flashing shoelaces - £7.99
Glow in the dark keyrings - £5.99
Cotton tabard - £5.99
Topster milk carton pourers - £2.49
Onion keeper - £3.49

Seriously, I wonder about her sometimes....

So much for a quiet Saturday...

Brilliant, I returned from shopping to find that Margaret had visited Roger's Relics and seemingly invited the eponymous Roger over to the house this afternoon along with his shop assistant Polly as the shop was going to close at 1pm and they had no outdoor space to enjoy the sunny weather in. This is, of course, along with her tiresome friend Emma and her tattooed wannabe pop star boyfriend, the truly dreadful Connor.

If it wasn't for Seb being in the house I think I'd be hitting the chardonnay about nowish. Do you think the sun is officially over the yard arm? Right, let's just download these Napster tracks and I'll head towards the fridge...

Easter Break

I'm grateful for the Easter break as I'm getting very fed up with work at the moment, I work in a very dull, quiet office. Very few people speak and if they do eyebrows are raised. Music keeps me sane, which is brilliant because I've done two 'taster' classes this work - musical theatre on Wednesday and rock singing yesterday; the latter was much more up my street and the former, well let's just say that I'm physically dyslexic when it comes to dance!

My estranged husband Roger (not to be confused with Margaret's new landlord who shares the same forename - doesn't the person writing this have any imagination at all?) left a strange rambling message on the landline answering machine last night. Apparently drunk, he purports to still love me and has sworn off all other women. Hmm. I don't think so, do you?

Saying that, I'm more than aware that I'll have to put this house on the market at some point as I'm starting to get into mortgage arrears despite my parents stepping in to the breach. Perhaps I should see whether Roger Reynolds has any other flats available for rent but from Margaret's description he sounds really creepy so maybe not>

Taking back da house

This weekend was a good one for me because I went out with a selection of friends on Saturday night and left Seb with Margaret babysitting. Apart from him getting in the way of VH1's Top Forty Bubblegum Pop Moments and smearing banana on her cardigan, she seemed to cope very well. She told me yesterday evening that she's managed to find a flat above a shop near the station which is a good and a bad thing; I admit that I like the company but can't really cope with her for much longer, she's a lovely woman but I'm fed up with her unrealistic cleaning expectations plus her excessive labelling of food items. She'll be off in the next couple of weeks if all goes well, which is good because Uncle Jim has found a place in the Retired HumanEarthworm Sanctuary in Dorset and Auntie Pat is buying a Majorcan villa with her lover, you know the one, he looks like a heady mixture between Phil Collins and Leonard Rossiter.

I have joined the Departmental choir! Yes, after Easter I'll be singing my little heart out once a week. I love singing and since my beautiful rendition of 'My Old Man Said Follow The Van' at Butlins during the 80s I've always hankered to perform. Sadly my brother outdid me on that holiday by dressing up as a Roman Centurion and lifting the female Redcoats' skirts with his balsa wood sword.

Margaret et Wilf

The scene – Eleanor’s spare room, which includes a double bed, some wardrobes and an awful lot of unwanted junk she’s yet to throw away.

Wilf - I needed to see you Margaret, there’s so much I have to say and none of it is easy.

Margaret - (tearful) Right, please go ahead.

W - Well, it’s Mr A, he’s gone. You’re sad, I can’t bear you like this.

M - It’s a consequence of his death and other things, you know me, an old stick in the mud, resisting change from all angles

W - I know Margaret and although I love you, but we can’t be together if your heart is elsewhere

M - Please don’t say that, I couldn’t bear it.

W - I hate to leave you Margaret at such a difficult time but we have to stay true to ourselves and part before one of us gets hurt

M - (grabbing the cushion) I keep seeing his face, his smile, his high-waisted trousers, even during my dreams

W - That is as may Margaret, but you never really knew him; you spent very little time together

M - That’s true, but we had a connection

W - That’s all very well but did you ever bicker about the price of Ginster’s Pasties during a routine trip to Asda? No, well that’s real life and your fling with him was pure fantasy.

M - (dramatically) Then leave me to my dreams and visions, they have no place in our fractured relationship

W - You mean, former relationship. It’s over, for good.

M - (throwing herself on the bed) Fine. Please go now. (dissolves into tears)

End of act one.

Black Wednesday for Margaret

Yes it was, bleak as hell. I received a call from Marcus Durbridge today at work who is Margaret's former beau's, Henry Arbuthnot's former colleague (there are too many 'formers' in there for my liking!) Anyway, he asked whether I'd heard the news? Apparently Arbuthnot's lifeless body was found floating in The Thames, according to the post mortem he'd been dead for a week or so. Nobody seems to know the circumstances surrounding his disappearance and subsequent death but there's a possible MI5 Spooks angle which I guess, but its very nature, is very 'hush hush'.

Coming over to tell Margaret was dreadful, I accompanied her home but that's not a safe place to be either because the subsidence is really kicking in. I've now put her up in my spare room, it's quite nice really and Seb and I could do with the company. I'll keep you posted.