BonJour !

Well, I've just returned from a well earned break in France.
I decided to visit some of the D-Day invasion beaches as my father had told me about his exploits as the Allied forces headed inland.
I must say that the beaches today are very nice, peaceful and look very inviting whereas back then it was a different matter.
I remember father telling me how after the heavy naval bombardment had started at around 7am on the morning of Operation Overlord, his batman had woken him and said that he should maybe go for breakfast a bit earlier as there would probably be a lot of people milling about the ship later in the morning.
The first landing craft went ashore a few minutes later and after breakfast, father and a few of his chums decided to go and see what all the fuss was about.
Apparently, they managed to hitch a ride on a little naval craft which had no rest lounge or buffet and was apparently carrying tanks ashore. Anyway, father reckoned that the beaches were crowded by the time they arrived and that as usual, the Germans had grabbed the best bits of beach much earlier that morning by putting barbed wire, mines and anti-tank guns in the way.
Typical.
He said that it was very noisy and his chums had to wait until the Engineers had cleared a path up the beach before they could find a little cafe to enjoy some local hospitality.
However, before they could find a table, some grumpy German decided to fire an 88mm High explosive round through the cafe (probably because the Canadian Infantry had chucked all his barbed wire off the beach) so they had to wait until mid afternoon until the mayor of the local town gave them a bottle of wine. Apparently it wasn't a bad little number but the glasses were rather dirty.
Not much has changed to this day.

After visiting the beaches, I decided to have a look round a local village market. Once there I found a little French chappie selling cheese. I tried a bit and as nice as it was, it was no Stilton. I pointed out that he should come to England as I was sure people would be only too pleased to teach him how to make proper cheese but he didn't seem too keen and suddenly became very red and started to cough and splutter.
Maybe he had a dairy intolerance ?
Anyway, I found a little bakery in town and bought some bread which was lovely. The problem was, when I went to finish it off later that afternoon, it had turned from bread into a lump of seasoned Elm.
I'll bring a nice loaf of Hovis next time.

By the time I'd booked into my hotel, Raggy had caught up and brought all my luggage. He seemed a little tearful and I asked if it was because of visiting the invasion beaches and if it brought the memories flooding back but he said he hadn't been part of the invasion but his youngest son had.
Raggy had stayed at home in England like most of the First World War veterans due to their age.
The food in the hotel was very nice and the wine was good. The waiter got in a little bit of a strop when I asked for a crisp German white wine but he soon calmed down and brought a nice little number called something like 'Nonne Bleue'. It was expensive but well worth it.
It pays to know your wines when abroad....

Welsh rabbit

Well Richard, my chef, has settled in very well and I am really enjoying the food which he is cooking.
The only meal I was a bit dubious about was his Lamb tikka massala which although tasting very nice, gave me a dose of the squits which made the pan of the toilet look as though a pheasant had exploded in it.
Now, his flatmate came along with him the other day to see about the house cleaning job. I must say that I was pleasantly surprised as she was a rather pretty little thing, probably in her mid twenties and very friendly.
Unfortunately she is Welsh.
Anyway, despite that, she was very nice and I was happy to give her the job. Maybe in time she will learn to cope with an indoor lavatory and not having to wear a waterproof jacket day and night and I will learn to understand what she is saying. Richard say's that she is actually speaking in English but I'm not so sure...

Early days yet but it would seem that I once more have a decent set of staff.
I'll just have to try and persuade Raggy to restrain himself from placing the stuffed animals everywhere.
The other day I thought one of the dogs had shat a furry turd on the carpet but it turns out that it was a stuffed weasel that Raggy thought would look 'interesting' in the corner of the lounge.
The night before last I caught sight of another stuffed animal in the study. As I bent down and went to pick up the stuffed giant snail, I realised too late as it oozed through my fingers that it was infact a fresh barkers egg, layed by my poxy dog...
Dirty little bleeder.

Pilly received a complaint about a month ago from a women's lib group about an advert that he had placed in a womans magazine advertising his 'laytex pleasure products'. The complaint was along the lines of it being "derogatory to modern women" and having "no place in today's Britain".
Pilly replied to them asking what they found so offensive and invited them to come along to his little rural factory to discuss the matter. He in return got a very short reply from the chairwoman of the group saying that she would indeed be visiting him along with her colleagues and tell him exactly what they thought of people like him who were "holding women back from their rightful place in an equal society".
Apparently they turned up full of anger and venom but once Pilly showed them what it was his company made and how the products worked, the women left half an hour later with their minds set at rest and having spent over £300 on a variety of novelty latex products....

Food, glorious food

So Monday arrived and Richard, my new cook or 'chef' to give him his proper title turned up and got himself settled in to the kitchen.
He soon found where everything was and then asked what I would like for my dinner that night. I told him that I would leave it to him so he said that he would do me a cut of suckling pig on the bone with a puree of potato accompanied by haricot vert and a bramley juis.
To be honest I didn't like the sound of it much but I was relieved to see that he obviously couldn't get the ingredients for whatever it was he was planning to do because instead  he did me Pork chops, mash and green beans with apple sauce.
Nice.

Kipper has been busy in the garden and has planted more tomato plants in the greenhouse which he has once more kitted out with the reflective sheets and electric heat lamps to give them their best chance of survival.
I asked if the old heat lamps were running okay on his crystallised meths and he gave me a strange look as if he didn't understand before muttering that yes, they were running fine.
I wonder if he is overdoing it again and growing tired ? His nose is always red and he keeps nervously scratching and itching his face.
I hope he doesn't crack.

I might go for a quick pint down The Bull tonight for a grin because apparently a group of young women have been going in for a few drinks just lately and Col has been sniffing around and trying his charms on them.
They reckon on Wednesday he kept buying them drinks all night and he thought he had struck lucky with one of them when she leaned over and put her head between his legs. However, she then burped, groaned and threw up in his lap but luckily most of the sick ran off as Col had a bit of a Billy Smarts Big Top occurring in his trousers.
Apparently it didn't deter him and he was seen helping the semi-conscious wench into his car after last orders.
Well, the hungry must be fed...

Rug munching rug cleaner ?

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.

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...

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.

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....