Here are Lovely One and Boy. As far as One can recall, this is what Boy looked like the last time One saw him.
IF YOU ARE READING THIS BOY, FEEL SUITABLY ADMONISHED FOR NOT VISITING YOUR DEAR MAMA OFTEN ENOUGH.
Any road up off we were ready to trot, One and the Wood Nymph to Lovely Gordon’s up the passage. We had been invited and therefore got all fancied up, One in a diaphanous Chloe Tea-Dress with strappy Manolos and discreet, apres 6.00pm diamonds. And the Wood Nymph in shorts that surely cut of the blood supply to her legs, a charity shop shirt and the ubiquitous Doc Martens.
The eyeliner was deployed having been out having sex with LB and WN.
HA – IT MIGHT EVEN GET SOME WHEN IT’S WITH ME NEXT TIME!
Then came the call…
‘I’m in a right two and eight about the gardener. I’ve left thirty-seven messages on his mobile, spoken to his Dad and waited for him all day. I shan’t be able to entertain you and I’ve lost my wallet.’
One felt fairly sure the wallet would be nestling in a Waitrose carrier next to the second best fridge beneath the carefully laundered shreddies. Which, indeed it was.
‘Come to us then,’ countered Lovely One, ‘have a yard of Pinot and a garden-picked salad.’
And ‘twas thus that LG fronted up around two hours later just when we thought we’d been blown out, and we repaired to the garden in order for the WN to roll a snout. (cigarette Michael)
‘Do come for pudding, I have a cheeky little lemon posset or a blackberry and apple crumble,’ announced LG as he left. ‘Arrive at 11.00pm.’
We did arrive at 11.00pm and were presented with a lemon pudding that had adhered in the manner of cement to the dish, at around 1.30am in the morning.
We sauntered back up the passage as the cock was crowing leaving Lovely Gordon to do a bit of early morning garden titivation.