You might have seen the pictures regarding the jaunt around Cotgrave. At 1400 hours a young man marched into my office in camouflage, stamped his feet, stood to attention and asked for “permission to speak.” I know the lad very well having worked with his father a number of years. I told him to carry on. “Corporal Lee Clarke, senior NCO on duty reporting as requested.” I told him not to be so formal. “I have instructed the company to wait outside and not to speak or make a noise and not to impede anyone entering the club.” I told him to bring them in and I would get them a drink. “Are you sure?” He asked. Yes I am sure corporal. He saluted, turned round, stamped his foot again and marched out. I never expected such discipline. We bought them a drink while we waited for the bar staff and then assembled our team. The cadets were marvellous – corporal Clarke drilled them mercilessly when we arrived at the shopping centre, bawling them out at every opportunity. The purpose of the exercise was not to collect money but just to publicise our show on Thursday but we collected £150. We now have got £850 in the kitty and I am looking to raise £3000.
The bloody buggering bollocking disease continues to march on. We lost two lovely ladies in the last fortnight. Rose who bred whippets with her husband – they won the champion of champions with a dog one year – a terrific achievement and Nancy who was known as the Pied Piper of Cotgrave because she collected children from all over and provided sanctuary for the ones that were not having a particularly pleasant time at home. I often saw her late at night pushing her bike – it had so much stuff on it that she couldn’t ride it where she had been to the co-op and collected all of the out of date stuff for “her bairns.” A truly lovely lady who will be sorely missed.
Then during our procession the PCSO that was escorting us told me that our old village bobby Mick Jennings had died last week.
We hadn’t moved into Cotgrave very long when Jonathan was bitten by a Jack Russell dog. He was about four or five. Around five o’clock PC Jennings turned up, came in and sat down and Irene made him a cup of tea. “Where have you been?” Asked Jonathan. “I didn’t start work until 2pm.” That’s when my dad phoned you!” “Well I had to go and arrest someone.” “Who have you arrested” interrupted Jonathan. “I can’t tell you” said PC Jennings. “Why not?” He had placed his radio on the hearth which went off. “Your radio is going” said Jonathan. “ I know said PC Jennings” “Aren’t you going to answer it then?” “It’s not for me.” “How do you know?” “WILL YOU SHUT UP! I am supposed to be asking you questions.” The interview went a little more smoothly and as a very harassed PC Jennings was leaving Jonathan said “That dog better be arrested now or my dad will phone your boss and tell him that you are not doing your job properly.” A few weeks later I was walking down the road with Jonathan and we saw PC Jennings. Jonathan shouted him “Ay up PC Jennings” He took one look at Jonathan and ran off down the road. Jonathan has always been a challenge!
About two months ago I bought a number of waistcoats to try and conceal Tomass who is trying to escape from my abdomen. I was doing the raffle last night and decided to get dressed up in a dress shirt and Help for Heroes tie. I could hardly do the bloody thing up. The shirt I mean. The tie was OK. But the waistcoat was impossible. If I had sneezed I would have killed those sitting opposite in a shower of shirt buttons. You wouldn’t believe the weight that I have put on. My diabetic review with Doctor Lewes is looming and she will not be very pleased so it’s back to eating grass for about a year so that I can creep in under my target weight which I must admit is a very generous twenty stones. That’s because Doctor Lewes is realist and she knows that I will never be a stick insect or happiness on a stick AKA Kevin. I was at conference one year when as leader of the delegation I was introduced to the mayor of Blackpool and his wife. “Eee you’re a big lad,” said his highness. “Yes I have got Irish anorexia” I replied. Mrs. Mayor put her hand on my shoulder and looked at me extremely seriously. “Oh I am sorry,” she said, “I hope you get better soon.” My delegation nearly choked on their beer.
My pride and joy failed it’s MOT on Saturday – no I don’t mean Irene, it’s my car. Not too bad – a rear spring and a front suspension control arm bush but I can’t get down to fix it and neither can Tim. It will have to go on my list. I have got a million and one jobs to do and don’t get any of them done. In fact my motto is when you have got too much to do – don’t do any of it then you are not showing favouritism. I am so ashamed after reading the Kezzerbabe’s exploits. A man of many talents! Can’t get on with flip flops though – my toes don’t like being apart. When I had chemo my feet disintegrated and my toenails haven’t grown back which is great coz I have a phobia about cutting nails. So now I am off for a tin of diet coke with Eric while we sort the world out. I would love a beer but the cashpoint is broken and I haven’t got any money and then I want to be able to do my buttons up without becoming an unstable IED with buttons flying off in all directions probably taking people’s eyes out or landing in their beer choking them in the process.
The only problem is that Tomass who misbehaved very badly last night – Irene came to bed about two am and she “felt a smell.” Yep he had disgraced himself again. Fortunately it was all contained in my shirt and not on the bedding but it was a close callfor Dangermouse and Penfold as my bag nearly escaped. Just what I wanted – having a shower at 2 am and then to cap it all Irene had reorgasamnised my clothes and moved my pyjamas down to the second shelf so I couldn’t find them. Why do women do that when they know we are creatures of habit? Naughty Tomass. Let’s hope he behaves a bit better while I am eating grass. Somehow I don’t think so.
