Friday 3 August 2012

Secret Service: EPISODE 55

Perfect Retirement Housing Complex
Inner Hamlet
CORSETTSHIRE  QY4 2PN


My Dear Ralph
The kitchen fitting schedule is proceeding apace here at Perfect!  Large vans are constantly outside - and the establishment is looking more and more like a building site every day.  I need to buttonhole the electricians about the wonky kitchen light and, over at Pom-Pom's premises, the newly-delivered fridge does not fit into its allotted space and is barely supported on the skirting board.  Pom-Pom himself is looking increasingly frail and frankly on the verge of cancelling any new intrusions into his home, regardless of any tipped-sidewards pieces of kitchen equipment. 
He has always been so strong - mentally - and, although I have rarely said so, impressive as a man of character.  He may well be slightly stooped at the shoulders, and thin, but his head, bereft of much hair, reminds me of Buddha and houses intelligent eyes, like an owl.  Out of doors (when he could still get out of doors) he has preferred a cream linen suit, smart, with a dickie bow tie and a Panama hat.  He has made me think of someone like Kingsley Amis, clad in a loose, almost tropical, suit - albeit always looking down because of numb-feeling legs and the need to see where his feet actually were.  Recently, I have had to persuade him, in a drip-drip kind of way, to purchase a stick, but he hates change and resists with silence and a rebellious glint.  There was to be no change of any kind - with the exception, perhaps, of myself who he took to for some reason, and has almost always let in.  Last week he finally submitted to having his arm chair raised on to blocks.  And now, although he seems to be physically shrinking,  he looks like a man sat on a throne.
So today, what with one thing and another, I thought I would evacuate the establishment for the morning and leave everyone to it.  I had just about reached the town bridge - mounted as usual upon Shank's Pony - when Pom-Pom telephoned to notify me that Our Leader had asked to let the men into my premises in order to turn my neighbour's water supply off.  This made me chuckle a little pet, as the threshold to my own premises, and water fitments, is currently blocked by those kitchen contents which didn't fit into three substantial rent-a-crates!  I don't know.  One can certainly do without this level of upheaval when one is (nearly) past one's prime.  Frankly, I was feeling so discombobulated that I walked straight past the tree under which I was supposed to pick something up this morning.  And, when I did go back, I neglected to remove the yellow ribbon - circumnavigating the tree - in order to confirm that I had indeed carried out my mission successfully! 
Speaking of one's prime dear, I may also have noticed that one or two of the builders (back at Perfect) are also in theirs.  Subsequent to the installation of the new electrical trunk lines in my own domain the other day, I did notice brick dust and electrical wire clippings on my bed - the bed being nowhere near the new fuse box.  I do hope no-one was trying on my nightwear or otherwise snuffling about near my lingerie drawer!  Nevertheless, this possibility did inspire me to go and purchase a new 'baby doll' nightie while I was hanging about town this morning. It is a pale pink shortie decked out with lace, ribbons, and one or two frills!  I do hope the men will like it and perhaps I will be persuaded to model it up and down the hallway later on.  What do you think pet?
I'm sorry this letter is so short Ralph.  Events of an enthralling nature must be happening elsewhere.  The only slightly exciting recent happening is that the alcohol-steeped inmate downstairs apparently had some sort of brainstorm and emerged from his room only to rip all the notices off of the notice board.  When Our Leader was called to remonstrate with him, he apparently called him 'a turd' and retired to his premises, slamming the door behind him.  I believe this resulted in a call from the overall Management the next day and in a second warning notice being sent out!
Yours
Aunt Agatha 

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