What’s a chap supposed to do, eh? I was on the phone to
Helen for quite a while tonight, so I was late going for my walk. It was around
ten o’clock when I sallied
inscrutably past La Maison Shu-Shu. (Shu-Shu? I meant Sarah, of course.) (Shu-Shu!!!???)
So anyway, on the out lap I realised I’d forgotten the bell
(I’ve given up on the ladder idea now. The spectre of linen bonnets and granny
shawls is too horrible to contemplate.) Plan B: on the return trip I sang the first
verse of Raglan Road.
Loudly (and rather well, in my opinion.)
Did I get the whistle? Did I get the single red rose cast
demurely into my path? Did I even get the sound of one hand clapping?
Guess.
I did have female company part of the way home, though. Cassie,
the pub dog, decided to walk my way. A car came down the road and slowed, and I
could only imagine his reaction. Some bloke in a tatty old coat and grey woolly
hat accompanied by a scraggy Lurcher cross? I thought he might have thrown a
couple of pound coins in my direction, but he drove on. They’re a mean lot
around these parts.
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