Friday, 25 May 2012

Lancelot did appear to get the hump at this point . . .

Perfect Retirement Housing Complex
Inner Hamlet

My Dear Ralph
I thought I'd take this moment, while Pom-Pom is otherwise engaged on the pot (haemorrhoids I think pet) to mention that I have not heard from William from Raptor-on-the-Lake.  It is just possible that he has found a lady living in more salubrious circumstances than myself, but it is a pity because such an acquaintance does introduce an element of Hope into life.  While I am on this subject, I don't know if I have ever told you about Lancelot and his recently deceased cat, Percy?  Well, Lancelot was also procured from the internet and turned out to be a peripatetic singing teacher, who had always lived with his mother, also recently deceased.  When we met up he was, of course, eager to demonstrate the workings of his model railway, up in the attic.  Those stiff metal ladders, ascending from his mother's bedroom, were very difficult to climb up dear, especially when one is clad in a tight skirt, heels and Sheer-Touch stockings.  It was also rather chilly up there, with what appeared to be a wintry wind blowing through the slate tiles on the roof.  Anyway, I did try to appear keen as Lancelot handed me one of those control box devices with which to control the engines running in and out of sundry tunnels and so forth.  Lancelot, meanwhile, disappeared through a tunnel himself into an adjacent attic and shouted jovially through the breeze blocks that he also had a control panel on his side.  I don't know pet.  Perhaps I am getting a bit too old for this kind of thing, but I really don't feel all that keen on train sets.
On another day, we set out in his motor for Winchbury-on-the-Hill and Lancelot kindly offered to purchase a sit-down meal of fish and chips for us both.  I don't know whether it was my experience with the train set that did it dear but, when he lined his bottles of blood pressure tablets up alongside his plate, I did find myself feeling a bit cross.  I am not altogether sure it was the most tactful thing I could have said, but I did find myself announcing that surely it was a bit much to consume a plateful of saturated fat and then expect the tablets to hoover all the fat up afterwards!  I am right aren't I pet?  Surely it makes more sense to consume a more balanced repast in conjunction with said tablets?  I really don't understand society's mania for tablet consumption.  Surely one has to do some of this work oneself!  Anyway, Lancelot did appear to get the hump at this point and I could tell from the hue of his complexion that his blood pressure was definitely rising!  In fact, things deteriorated to the point where I felt that he might leave me behind in Winchbury-on-the-Hill to catch the bus back.
However, I think he was a fundamentally kind man dear and he did tell me a rather touching story about his recently deceased cat, Percy.  Percy, apparently, had got mown down in a traffic accident some doors down from where Lancelot resides and Lancelot had to go along to collect the body.  When he got there, it turned out that somehow Percy's tail had stiffened, in rigor mortis, at a 90 degree angle to the rest of him.  Well, of course, poor Lancelot had quite a job to stuff Percy into the cat carrier with his tail at such an acute angle.  And then he had to be buried!  Lancelot did tell me that, at first, he was going to snap - or saw - off Percy's tail but found he couldn't bring himself to inflict such mutilation upon a deceased family member.  So, apparently pet, the poor man spent hours digging an especially large pit in the garden to accommodate the body plus appendage.  Actually dear, it must have been very hard work digging a hole in this particular garden as the turf was only about 2.5cm thick and then one reached bedrock!  (I had cause to notice this during the course of examining Lancelot's garden tools preparatory to planting a summer shrub.  And we had to use a pickaxe in the end!)
Aunt Agatha

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