I have been away on business and have to say that I'm glad to be back. I have spent a few days in London staying with an old friend who wanted me to invest in his new business venture. He is a mutual friend of the guy I had dinner with the other week and wanted my opinion on a couple of new ideas he had. He wants to get into entertainment and leisure and has bought a night club in Surrey. He reckons that already business is good and so we went to visit the club and it was indeed very busy and looked as if it was doing well. However, he then said that his latest venture was up my way, in town and that he had a business partner who owned the property that he wanted to change to a casino....
I knew straight away what that meant and I was having nothing to do with it so I thanked him for his hospitality wished him good luck and headed back for home.
He is going to to need all the luck he can get if he goes into business with the Silver Fox.
Mind you, say what you like, a casino and strip club will certainly be a welcome attraction in town as all we have currently are a couple of manky bars and a knocking shop run by an eastern European woman who also owns the local hand car-wash.
The only thing that both her places offer is a soapy bucket and a hand finish...
So, I came home and decided to ring the number on the advert for the cook and cleaner. Imagine my surprise when a man answered and said he had placed the advert. At first I thought it was a wind-up but he assured me it was genuine and so rather hesitantly I asked him to come to the Hall for a chat.
He arrived about an hour later and introduced himself as Richard. He then went on to explain that he was a trainee chef and wanted the experience and money to help with his education and career. I asked about the cleaning and he then told me that his flat-mate did the cleaning side of the business and that she would be only too happy to do my cleaning.
'She' would be happy to do my cleaning.... I was then wondering what 'she' looked like.
Was she a curvy, sassy blonde ? Or maybe a leggy brunette ? Chances were that she would be a butch lesbian built like a bullock.
What is it with lesbians ? If they hate men so much, why the hell do they always try to look like one ?
Anyway, Richard seemed okay and assured me he could cook all the classic recipes. He should start next Monday.
Just have to wait and see what his flat-mate turns out to be.
My gardener, Kipper, has been busy in the shed again so I assume he has been potting more plants. He must still be expecting a frost at night as he is going to keep the shed warm. I hope he is careful with the heaters. They are the old paraffin wick heaters and have been there for years. Well, I assume he is using them as he muttered something about using meths. However it should be a bit safer as I think he said that the meths were in crystal form.
Should stop any dangerous spillages.
Saturday 31 March 2012
Saturday 17 March 2012
St. Lucia or Saxthorpe ?
Lumpkin appeared the other afternoon as if he had just nipped out for some milk and was full of the joys of spring. Apparently he and his fiance had been away in Italy. He told me all about the wonderful food they had eaten while over there and I started to feel hungry and wanted to tell him about my culinary disposition but thought better of it as it only made me more hungry.
He said they had been discussing venues for the wedding and that his fiance wanted to get married in a little beach chapel in St. Lucia but that he wanted to get wed in the church in Saxthorpe where he grew up. She then pointed out that as her father would be paying for everything, she thought it only fair that she chose the venue and also who was invited.
I couldn't help thinking that Lumpkin may well be on a hiding to nothing with this old bird but said nothing to him, after all he seems happy and he is obviously getting a spoon-full of delights.
Wednesday evening saw me attending a dinner party at an old friends house. I hadn't seen him for a year or two and it was good to catch up. It was also nice to sit down to some decent food and relax a bit. We sat after dinner when the women had retired to the sitting room and chatted about what we had been up to and things that had gone on recently. He then told me that he had bought and sold a bit of property and that he had just sold an old wine bar in town which he bought from the previous owner who was unable to pay the mortgage and the new chap wants to turn it into a lap dancing club and casino...
I asked who the chap was but he said he was dealing through solicitors but I was sure that it was indeed the Silver Fox.
So, he was back.
Well, as long as he stayed in town, it wouldn't matter but I thought I would let the Bishop know when I got the chance.
Last night saw me in The Bull for a pint and I ended up chatting to Hilly and a few others. He was telling me how his wife had now stopped having sex with him and so I said that it was a pity but Hilly said no, it was great - he could now exercise his calf muscles on a regular basis in the bathroom without having to 'attend to the old dragon' as he put it.
Takes all sorts I suppose.
Pilly bought me a pint and was telling me that Internet sales of his Adult toys or 'rubber bollards' as he calls them have soared. He has just bought a new injection moulding machine to keep up with production and to lower his overheads. He said that on the whole, things were going up and up and I suspect he didn't just mean his material costs...
The night ended with Dusty bent over the bar trying to suck the drip-trays dry with a straw. All that happened was that he got wedged between the Wherry and the Old Speckled hen pumps, tried to wriggle free but ended up spraying his own head with Diet Coke. He then laughed, hicupped, farted and made the taxi driver, who was waiting to take Hilly home, wretch and throw up over the juke box.
Apparently Dusty was still asleep on the bar when they locked up.
So, another week gone by with only one decent meal to speak of, the rest mainly being take-aways and soup. However, I saw an advert in the paper shop the other morning which was offering domestic services, cooking and cleaning etc so I might give it a call later. You never know, it might be some tasty young piece who is looking for some extra income and will brighten up the place with her charm.
More than likely be some manky old biffer who enjoys sniffing through peoples pant drawers...
He said they had been discussing venues for the wedding and that his fiance wanted to get married in a little beach chapel in St. Lucia but that he wanted to get wed in the church in Saxthorpe where he grew up. She then pointed out that as her father would be paying for everything, she thought it only fair that she chose the venue and also who was invited.
I couldn't help thinking that Lumpkin may well be on a hiding to nothing with this old bird but said nothing to him, after all he seems happy and he is obviously getting a spoon-full of delights.
Wednesday evening saw me attending a dinner party at an old friends house. I hadn't seen him for a year or two and it was good to catch up. It was also nice to sit down to some decent food and relax a bit. We sat after dinner when the women had retired to the sitting room and chatted about what we had been up to and things that had gone on recently. He then told me that he had bought and sold a bit of property and that he had just sold an old wine bar in town which he bought from the previous owner who was unable to pay the mortgage and the new chap wants to turn it into a lap dancing club and casino...
I asked who the chap was but he said he was dealing through solicitors but I was sure that it was indeed the Silver Fox.
So, he was back.
Well, as long as he stayed in town, it wouldn't matter but I thought I would let the Bishop know when I got the chance.
Last night saw me in The Bull for a pint and I ended up chatting to Hilly and a few others. He was telling me how his wife had now stopped having sex with him and so I said that it was a pity but Hilly said no, it was great - he could now exercise his calf muscles on a regular basis in the bathroom without having to 'attend to the old dragon' as he put it.
Takes all sorts I suppose.
Pilly bought me a pint and was telling me that Internet sales of his Adult toys or 'rubber bollards' as he calls them have soared. He has just bought a new injection moulding machine to keep up with production and to lower his overheads. He said that on the whole, things were going up and up and I suspect he didn't just mean his material costs...
The night ended with Dusty bent over the bar trying to suck the drip-trays dry with a straw. All that happened was that he got wedged between the Wherry and the Old Speckled hen pumps, tried to wriggle free but ended up spraying his own head with Diet Coke. He then laughed, hicupped, farted and made the taxi driver, who was waiting to take Hilly home, wretch and throw up over the juke box.
Apparently Dusty was still asleep on the bar when they locked up.
So, another week gone by with only one decent meal to speak of, the rest mainly being take-aways and soup. However, I saw an advert in the paper shop the other morning which was offering domestic services, cooking and cleaning etc so I might give it a call later. You never know, it might be some tasty young piece who is looking for some extra income and will brighten up the place with her charm.
More than likely be some manky old biffer who enjoys sniffing through peoples pant drawers...
Saturday 10 March 2012
Valentino Rossi eat your heart out
It's been a strange week. The Bishop called round for a small sherry which meant he was angling for something. Turns out that he had got wind that the Silver Fox may have returned and was asking if I knew anything. I told him that I had heard the rumours but had found out very little. It seemed to ease his mind a bit but he still would not say what it was that was bothering him either way. I still think he owes the Fox some money, for what, I have no idea.
He then went on to ask if I had seen much of Dylan and if I thought she would be likely to attend one of his parish dinners if he invited her. Basically the parish dinners are a piss-up paid for by the church under the pretence of 'forging village relations'.
Last time it saw the butcher punching the local planning officer and the Bishop half naked, wearing the bread bin on his head and his Mitre full of crusty rolls.
Nobody ate the french stick.
Raggy is back at work and looks a lot better - well, he looks better than he did before but still looks like he has been dug up. Mrs Burroughs is apparently still under the weather and her husband reckons he may take her away for a break to get her strength back. He ought to take me away with them so I can get my bloody strength back - I need some proper food and fast ! The other night I ordered a pizza and nearly an hour later I heard what sounded like a leaf-blower coming up the drive. I then heard a loud scraping noise followed by a 'bang!'
I opened the front door and saw a moped in my geranium bed and a body slumped over my ornamental fountain. The body suddenly got up, went across to the moped, extracted it from the flower bed and put it up on its stand and opened the box on the back and walked over to me. I asked if he was alright and he said "Yeh, fine mister, I just came too wide and got caught in your gravel trap"
I looked around and said "Gravel trap ? My entire front drive is gravel, what did you expect ?"
"Yeh, I know, you want to get some more tarmac down cos' its a deff trap innit"
He then handed me a warm paper parcel and asked for six pounds so I gave him a tenner as I was still looking around at what on earth possessed him to come round the drive as if he was at Mallory Park.
He reached into his pocket for the change and I told him to keep it, still trying to figure out what he had done. "Nice one ! Enjoy your kebab !". I just nodded and was still trying to work out what he had done to end up sprawled across the front of the house when he got back on his moped, revved up and sped off back down the drive, his tail light hanging off and the lid of his box flapping like a shit-house door in a storm. I turned to go back inside when down the drive I heard the moped rev wildly, followed by a loud metallic rumble and a 'bang!' and then "Aww F*ck !" then straight away the moped started once more and sped off into the night.
It occurred to me that he must have come off as he went over the cattle grid.
I got back inside and went into the kitchen and sat at the table. It then struck me what he had said as I opened the paper parcel and saw not a pizza but a kebab. I groaned as I saw the gaping pitta bread with all the meat hanging out the sides, covered in greasy juice and my mind flashed back to that girl I knew in Hatfield and my hunger suddenly disappeared....
Kipper has returned to work. I opened the window the other morning and saw him trimming the hedge.
I went out and asked how he was and he said he was fine and had just needed a few days to clear his head. He must have had a blocked nose and sore throat as he muttered something about being coked up.
I asked how the tomatoes were doing but he said they had died but he would be planting some more. I asked if it was the frost that had killed them and he said more than likely. I asked if he would compost the dead plants and he replied that he had already burnt them.
Apparently his friends from the nursery are getting him some more seeds. Personally I would have gone for more plants rather than seeds but I'm sure he knows what he's doing. I asked when he would be re-planting and he said as soon as his nursery friends get back as they are away on holiday at the moment in Amsterdam.
I bet they've gone to visit the Anne Frank museum.
He then went on to ask if I had seen much of Dylan and if I thought she would be likely to attend one of his parish dinners if he invited her. Basically the parish dinners are a piss-up paid for by the church under the pretence of 'forging village relations'.
Last time it saw the butcher punching the local planning officer and the Bishop half naked, wearing the bread bin on his head and his Mitre full of crusty rolls.
Nobody ate the french stick.
Raggy is back at work and looks a lot better - well, he looks better than he did before but still looks like he has been dug up. Mrs Burroughs is apparently still under the weather and her husband reckons he may take her away for a break to get her strength back. He ought to take me away with them so I can get my bloody strength back - I need some proper food and fast ! The other night I ordered a pizza and nearly an hour later I heard what sounded like a leaf-blower coming up the drive. I then heard a loud scraping noise followed by a 'bang!'
I opened the front door and saw a moped in my geranium bed and a body slumped over my ornamental fountain. The body suddenly got up, went across to the moped, extracted it from the flower bed and put it up on its stand and opened the box on the back and walked over to me. I asked if he was alright and he said "Yeh, fine mister, I just came too wide and got caught in your gravel trap"
I looked around and said "Gravel trap ? My entire front drive is gravel, what did you expect ?"
"Yeh, I know, you want to get some more tarmac down cos' its a deff trap innit"
He then handed me a warm paper parcel and asked for six pounds so I gave him a tenner as I was still looking around at what on earth possessed him to come round the drive as if he was at Mallory Park.
He reached into his pocket for the change and I told him to keep it, still trying to figure out what he had done. "Nice one ! Enjoy your kebab !". I just nodded and was still trying to work out what he had done to end up sprawled across the front of the house when he got back on his moped, revved up and sped off back down the drive, his tail light hanging off and the lid of his box flapping like a shit-house door in a storm. I turned to go back inside when down the drive I heard the moped rev wildly, followed by a loud metallic rumble and a 'bang!' and then "Aww F*ck !" then straight away the moped started once more and sped off into the night.
It occurred to me that he must have come off as he went over the cattle grid.
I got back inside and went into the kitchen and sat at the table. It then struck me what he had said as I opened the paper parcel and saw not a pizza but a kebab. I groaned as I saw the gaping pitta bread with all the meat hanging out the sides, covered in greasy juice and my mind flashed back to that girl I knew in Hatfield and my hunger suddenly disappeared....
Kipper has returned to work. I opened the window the other morning and saw him trimming the hedge.
I went out and asked how he was and he said he was fine and had just needed a few days to clear his head. He must have had a blocked nose and sore throat as he muttered something about being coked up.
I asked how the tomatoes were doing but he said they had died but he would be planting some more. I asked if it was the frost that had killed them and he said more than likely. I asked if he would compost the dead plants and he replied that he had already burnt them.
Apparently his friends from the nursery are getting him some more seeds. Personally I would have gone for more plants rather than seeds but I'm sure he knows what he's doing. I asked when he would be re-planting and he said as soon as his nursery friends get back as they are away on holiday at the moment in Amsterdam.
I bet they've gone to visit the Anne Frank museum.
Saturday 3 March 2012
Press your red button now
My staff seem to be dropping like flies at the moment. First Mrs Burroughs gets the flu from which she is still suffering, then Kipper disappears off the face of the earth. Nobody has seen him for days.
Then, to cap it off, the crowning turd in the water-pipe, Raggy, my Domesday butler has taken ill. An old guy came to the Hall the other afternoon and introduced himself as Raggy's son. He must have been 65 if not more. Anyway, he told me that his father apologises but will need a couple of days off to rest as he is not feeling all that well. I said it was fine and to pass on my best wishes.
To be totally honest, I don't need him but he seems so happy tottering around here, dusting, cleaning, putting bloody stuffed Hedgehog's in the bathroom.
Raggy wasn't too clever the other afternoon before he left off come to think of it. I heard him drop the dustpan and went to see if he was alright and found him in a bit of a flap as he had snagged the line from his piss-sack on the tail of a stuffed Muntjac and he stood there looking like a garden sprinkler with the contents of his bladder-bottle spraying all over the tiled floor.
I wanted to ask if he was okay but had to walk away before I started to laugh.
Harsh, I know but you should have seen him - he looked like a urine Vesuvius.
I had a bit of a result the other evening when a rather lovely little sort from the hunt asked if I fancied a night out with her as she wanted some company for the evening and that it would be good to catch up.
We went a little further afield and ended up in a Thai restaurant. I have to say that for me it was a bit of a new experience but one that I rather enjoyed. Mind you, with my current dining situation, anything makes a change from dining with Colonel Sanders.
The waitress asked if I would like rice with my meal so I said yes. She then asked what sort of rice I wanted and so I replied "pudding".
She just shook her head.
After another meal with The Colonel the other evening, I couldn't be bothered to go out so I put the telly on in the drawing room. It was fairly late and there seemed to be a good few Casino and gambling programs on. You had to ring in your credit card details and then you could join in via your remote control or something similar.
Anyway, I flicked through a few channels and found one where they showed you various items and you had to guess the price as it decreased and would eventually stop. I was fairly good at it and guessed the price several times so I thought I might be able to win a pound or two so rang in, gave my card details and played on. I did rather well and guessed the price just before it ended time and time again.
Yesterday I had a pallet arrive on a lorry which I had no idea what it contained. I signed for it and then decided to see what on earth it was. I opened the boxes and they contained all sorts of stuff - a woolly hat, a plastic tulip in a pot, some designer sunglasses, a woman's sheepskin coat, a set of fondue forks, an electric cheese grater, a pair of suede children's slippers, a battery powered egg-whisk and a sump for a Mk.3 Cortina.
Turns out the other night it wasn't one of those casino programs after all.
It was f*cking QVC....
Then, to cap it off, the crowning turd in the water-pipe, Raggy, my Domesday butler has taken ill. An old guy came to the Hall the other afternoon and introduced himself as Raggy's son. He must have been 65 if not more. Anyway, he told me that his father apologises but will need a couple of days off to rest as he is not feeling all that well. I said it was fine and to pass on my best wishes.
To be totally honest, I don't need him but he seems so happy tottering around here, dusting, cleaning, putting bloody stuffed Hedgehog's in the bathroom.
Raggy wasn't too clever the other afternoon before he left off come to think of it. I heard him drop the dustpan and went to see if he was alright and found him in a bit of a flap as he had snagged the line from his piss-sack on the tail of a stuffed Muntjac and he stood there looking like a garden sprinkler with the contents of his bladder-bottle spraying all over the tiled floor.
I wanted to ask if he was okay but had to walk away before I started to laugh.
Harsh, I know but you should have seen him - he looked like a urine Vesuvius.
I had a bit of a result the other evening when a rather lovely little sort from the hunt asked if I fancied a night out with her as she wanted some company for the evening and that it would be good to catch up.
We went a little further afield and ended up in a Thai restaurant. I have to say that for me it was a bit of a new experience but one that I rather enjoyed. Mind you, with my current dining situation, anything makes a change from dining with Colonel Sanders.
The waitress asked if I would like rice with my meal so I said yes. She then asked what sort of rice I wanted and so I replied "pudding".
She just shook her head.
After another meal with The Colonel the other evening, I couldn't be bothered to go out so I put the telly on in the drawing room. It was fairly late and there seemed to be a good few Casino and gambling programs on. You had to ring in your credit card details and then you could join in via your remote control or something similar.
Anyway, I flicked through a few channels and found one where they showed you various items and you had to guess the price as it decreased and would eventually stop. I was fairly good at it and guessed the price several times so I thought I might be able to win a pound or two so rang in, gave my card details and played on. I did rather well and guessed the price just before it ended time and time again.
Yesterday I had a pallet arrive on a lorry which I had no idea what it contained. I signed for it and then decided to see what on earth it was. I opened the boxes and they contained all sorts of stuff - a woolly hat, a plastic tulip in a pot, some designer sunglasses, a woman's sheepskin coat, a set of fondue forks, an electric cheese grater, a pair of suede children's slippers, a battery powered egg-whisk and a sump for a Mk.3 Cortina.
Turns out the other night it wasn't one of those casino programs after all.
It was f*cking QVC....
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