Perfect Retirement Housing Complex
Inner Hamlet
CORSETTSHIRE QY4 2PN
My Dear Ralph
Pom-Pom and I were visited today by the Chevalier Housing Association, with the aim of assessing our suitability for 'supported accommodation' out at Nether Hoppit. I must say that it was most amusing when the two housing support workers emerged from the lift and recoiled at the sight of the lurid Lime paintwork coating all our doors! I feigned not to notice of course pet, as I saw two sets of eyebrows rise and heard suppressed sniggering on their part. Have I ever told you the story of how this paintwork came about dear?
One naturally expects, in a democratic institution of this type, to be consulted in matters of particular significance, i.e. the colour paint to be applied to 56 front doors. But, instead of a 'formal invitation to consult' appearing on the notice board - together with a request for members of each floor to convene to choose a colour - Our Leader simply went ahead and selected colours in association with assorted passers by and general cronies, who just happened to be in the vicinity when he was leafing through the paint book. As luck would have it, I happened to be strolling along the corridors when the painters were applying this Lime to the first door. The men called out to me, 'Have you seen the paint love? What do you think of it?' Of course, I was aghast and had this frightful vision of us all lit up like a scene from Jack in the Beanstalk in here. Have I mentioned the colours of the walls and carpets to you pet? Well the walls are turquoise and the carpet is a sort of dirty mid-pink. So you can imagine how all these shades combine! Pom-Pom and I, of course, made one of our rare attempts to object (always a mistake). We called upon Our Deputy and Mrs Brownie, who were doing something or other in an adjacent flat and asked them if they'd seen the paintwork. No, they hadn't and so we all gathered in a deathly silence around this door. After somewhat of a pause, Mrs Brownie suggested calling Our Leader - who was prostrated with a management-style-related malaise in his flat. So up came Our Leader and he pronounced that he quite liked it! He did ask Our Deputy and Mrs Brownie what they thought, but they seemed to think it wisest to keep schtum. At this point pet, I suggested that they consult the opinions of a couple of inmates on our floor; I said that I would simply call them to look, but not influence their opinion in any way. Our Leader did agree to this step. The first person I found in was Dinkie (aged 93) who, twice that week, had expressed a strong preference for the colour white. Poor Dinkie showed up and said, 'Oh dear,' at which Our Leader slung a chummy arm around her diminutive shoulder. Dinkie responded to this by looking up and saying meekly, 'Well I suppose we shall have to get used to it.' The next resident to bustle along the hall to take a look, was Gertie. Gertie sprang back from the colour with a shriek of horror and cries of 'Oh no'! We all looked at the Management, who decided to go off together and confer. And the net conclusion of all this was that the painters continued down the corridor and painted all our doors the most frightful hue you ever did see. Even the representative from Perfect muttered, some months later, that Perfect usually does such a good job of the internal decor. I saw Our Leader flinch, as well he might dear.
Anyway, the representatives from Chevalier seem very pleased with us. I think they had ample opportunity to assess the cramped conditions in which we are attempting to live, and were also able to personally experience the extreme heat sweltering inwards from the flat roof directly above us (more about the roof later dear). Of course, given that neither of us is actually paralysed, they may prefer to give their 'fully adapted for the disabled' dwelling to another candidate. We will have to wait and see!
Yours
Aunt Agatha
One naturally expects, in a democratic institution of this type, to be consulted in matters of particular significance, i.e. the colour paint to be applied to 56 front doors. But, instead of a 'formal invitation to consult' appearing on the notice board - together with a request for members of each floor to convene to choose a colour - Our Leader simply went ahead and selected colours in association with assorted passers by and general cronies, who just happened to be in the vicinity when he was leafing through the paint book. As luck would have it, I happened to be strolling along the corridors when the painters were applying this Lime to the first door. The men called out to me, 'Have you seen the paint love? What do you think of it?' Of course, I was aghast and had this frightful vision of us all lit up like a scene from Jack in the Beanstalk in here. Have I mentioned the colours of the walls and carpets to you pet? Well the walls are turquoise and the carpet is a sort of dirty mid-pink. So you can imagine how all these shades combine! Pom-Pom and I, of course, made one of our rare attempts to object (always a mistake). We called upon Our Deputy and Mrs Brownie, who were doing something or other in an adjacent flat and asked them if they'd seen the paintwork. No, they hadn't and so we all gathered in a deathly silence around this door. After somewhat of a pause, Mrs Brownie suggested calling Our Leader - who was prostrated with a management-style-related malaise in his flat. So up came Our Leader and he pronounced that he quite liked it! He did ask Our Deputy and Mrs Brownie what they thought, but they seemed to think it wisest to keep schtum. At this point pet, I suggested that they consult the opinions of a couple of inmates on our floor; I said that I would simply call them to look, but not influence their opinion in any way. Our Leader did agree to this step. The first person I found in was Dinkie (aged 93) who, twice that week, had expressed a strong preference for the colour white. Poor Dinkie showed up and said, 'Oh dear,' at which Our Leader slung a chummy arm around her diminutive shoulder. Dinkie responded to this by looking up and saying meekly, 'Well I suppose we shall have to get used to it.' The next resident to bustle along the hall to take a look, was Gertie. Gertie sprang back from the colour with a shriek of horror and cries of 'Oh no'! We all looked at the Management, who decided to go off together and confer. And the net conclusion of all this was that the painters continued down the corridor and painted all our doors the most frightful hue you ever did see. Even the representative from Perfect muttered, some months later, that Perfect usually does such a good job of the internal decor. I saw Our Leader flinch, as well he might dear.
Anyway, the representatives from Chevalier seem very pleased with us. I think they had ample opportunity to assess the cramped conditions in which we are attempting to live, and were also able to personally experience the extreme heat sweltering inwards from the flat roof directly above us (more about the roof later dear). Of course, given that neither of us is actually paralysed, they may prefer to give their 'fully adapted for the disabled' dwelling to another candidate. We will have to wait and see!
Yours
Aunt Agatha
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