The return of the Silver Fox

I got back to the Hall fairly late the other evening and just got inside when the phone rang. Turns out that it was Mrs Burroughs husband who was ringing to say that his wife was ill with the flu and that she would be unable to come and cook for the next few days. He apologised but I said that it wasn't a problem and that she should rest and come back when she has fully recovered and he said that he was touched that I was so understanding.
The last thing I want is her sneezing and drooling in my mash.

So, I am having to fend for myself and cook my evening meals. It can't be that hard I thought but the other night saw me with a plateful of hard hot potatoes, some cabbage which looked like mongoose snot and some sausages which looked like charcoal briquettes. I therefore decided something had to be done. I considered having a kebab but the thought of all that meat hanging out, covered in greasy juice always reminds me of a girl I once knew from Hatfield.
I thought the best thing to do was to drive in to town and see what was on offer. I parked up and had a walk around and saw a couple of restaurants, one Italian and one Japanese. The Japanese one was beside the train station and it occurred to me that our old boys must have come much further with that Burma railway than we first thought...
I decided to go in the Italian and got a table and ended up having some very nice pasta and chicken in a creamy sauce (it was called 'Chicken Carburetter' or similar).
However, until Mrs Burroughs returns, I will have to find a replacement for her. I half thought of asking Dylan if she fancied earning a few extra pennies but I'm not sure how she would see me asking her to cook my evening meals, it might come across a bit patronising although she would certainly brighten the place up with her charm. I suppose I could just eat out each night but it's a bit of a bother and I don't know whether I would want pasta every night and the Japanese place looked as though you sat at bamboo benches with palm-frond place mats rather than at tables which to me would be like eating your dinner on the set of Tenko.

Now that the snow has gone and the bulbs are starting to push through the lawn, I thought it would be good to start thinking where I want to go on holiday this year so the other evening just after tea (well, a tin of soup and I even managed to spill that all over the stove) I had a quick look online and did a google search for somewhere hot, somewhere like the British Virgin Islands in the Caribbean which I hear is great so I typed in "hot virgins".
It was gone midnight by the time I had come off the first site and managed to find Thomas Cook's web page...
I saw some nice resorts, most of which cater for the younger generation but there are some nice looking ones for those of 30 and above. One resort said its staff were all helpful and eager to please its guests and they offered a full range of activities including watersports in the price.
I've always had to pay extra for that.

I got a call yesterday evening from Pilly to ask me if I had heard the rumours that the Silver Fox had returned. He had been reported as having bought a bar in town and was going to turn it into a casino and lap dancing club. I said that I hadn't heard any such thing but would try and find out if it was true.
Just to explain, the Silver Fox is a northern chap who ran some clubs in town some years back. He is a tall fellow with a head of grey/silver hair and a temperament as grouchy as a snared fox, hence his nickname. Back in the day he ran a lot of scams and they say he had to disappear when a big consignment of imported tobacco got confiscated by the old bill. However, it seems that he has now broken cover and looks to be starting up a new venture in town.
I don't tend to go into town much as it is full of the things I dislike most - people.
Mind you, it will be interesting to see if the rumours are true because if they are then the Bishop might want to know as I seem to remember he owed the Silver Fox some money before he vanished and it won't be long before he comes knocking on the church door I suspect.
We'll soon know when the little collection plate gets swapped for a dustbin lid...