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Wednesday, 26 February 2014

In which One returns to the underground lair…

Upon arrival in the Underground Lair One was met with a delightful floral aroma.

‘Mmmmmm home.’  One exhaled completely for the first time in ten day.

Each room exuded the same pleasant aroma until One surveyed the kitchen that has adopted the burnt fat scent of Whelan’s since the arrival of the Wood Nymph. Heaven knows what the little terror fries up in there for breakfast every day!  The ghost aroma of fried something or other clung there, stubbornly refusing to vacate the premises through the inadequate extractor and thereby impossible to erase from the windowless kitchen.

A silent wander through the rooms allowed the comfort blanket of calm to wrap itself around the worn out, limp lovliness of Lovely One.

Upon further investigation, One wandered into the room so recently vacated by Uncle Bert and now a room of One’s own.  The same floral scent pervaded, along with the cloistered feel of a room not used for a couple of weeks and not having had the odd puff of fresh air through the fenetre.  Underneath it all was the unmistakable top note of deceased Hamster. (Clearly the impregnated Eau de Uncle Bert) and nothing whatever to do with the fragrant Lovely One.

No, Dear Reader, the news of One’s demise has been falsely circulated.  One has been in the company of Aged P attempting to lure the wizened one to the top of the hill and into a secure and highly desirable retirement apartment.

One imagines that when One suggested…

‘There is a vacant apartment in the block in which you expressed an interest.  How about having a look and going for it?’…

Aged P must have misheard One and thought One said…

‘I am putting you in a secure prison unit where you will be poked with sticks all day and force fed gruel until you croak.’

Because the response One was met with was…

‘That’s it I’m going to kill myself you C**t.’  And with that she rushed up the stairs as quickly as one can rush with the aid of crutches.


This, Dear Reader, is the beginning of a laborious and depressing saga which will, no doubt, be relayed to you upon numerous occasions forthwith, so be warned, switch off now.

One is off to get completely rat arsed.

1 comment:

maria said...

I bet WN is frying eggs in the morning!

-the wood nymph Big Sis.