Monday, 8 August 2016
In which One aquires a saucepan with a handle aching to be clasped...
'How large is your ring?' enquired Lovely Gordon as One macheteed One's way through the holly bushes up his passage.
Not an enquiry that had been made afore, that day, Dear Reader, and then One remembered an encounter with the cove, adjacent to the cash machine at the Co-op (his balance enquiry included six zeros and One's was three, separated by a decimal point: 0.00) No matter, Dear Reader, 'tis pay day today, hurrah, and One shall have to decide whether to eat or pay the mortgage yet again.
'You remember that sweet little saucepan you admired?' said LG as he secreted a wad into the pocket of his jeans. (Double denim again!)
One had no recollection of aforementioned saucepan what with One having a full and exciting life, but unwilling to offend, uttered some suitable 'saucepan envy' noises.
'Well, it's yours,' said he with a flourish, 'come round at six and we'll see if it fits your ring.'
One arrived on the dot brandishing a quarter of a Victoria Sandwich for the cove and plonked down on the Eames to await the arrival of a chilled flute of Bolly and a dish of Waitrose sweet chilli crisps. The snacks at LG's are superior to the Asda Smart Price cheesy nibbles proffered in the Underground Lair.
'When I was in Wales I made a complete inventory of my saucepans, with diagrams, completely from memory,' went on he, 'guess how many I've got.'
'Thirty-Severn?' offered One.
'No, but close,' said he, 'twenty-nine. I'd recorded twenty-seven and forgotten about a couple.'
Several of the saucepan selection were displayed on the sitting room rug and One waxed lyrical about the handle of one of the little blighters that was aching to be clasped.
'You shall have it!' said he and hopped over a Wedgewood Lady Godiva to retrieve it from it's resting place.
'How is the dear old Admiral?' went on he.
'Jolly fine, I imagine,' said One, 'I haven't encountered him for a couple of days. He spends an inordinate amount of time at the bowling club these days being given the once-over by the sprightly widow women.'
'I had to visit Matalan with a damaged casserole dish,' said he, with a wounded expression haunting his Greek God fizzog.
'I'm not leaving this shop with this dish,' I said to the girl on the till,' he went on.
'Got proof of purchase?' she enquired.
'I've just eaten the Teflon lining with me Chicken Chassure,' said he indignantly, and flounced off to retrieve the receipt.
Like the time he accidentally imbibed a glass full of non-biological washing liquid, nothing shall stick to his inner tube in the near future.
Quite what a glass of non bio washing liquid was doing on his bedside cabinet, One never did find out.