Thursday, 4 October 2012

The Flintstones . . .

10 Forsythia Grove
Outer Hamlet
My Dear Ralph
I do not know whether or not you will find this fact scintillating pet but, this morning, I have attended the local washeteria - still not having acquired a contrivance for this purpose. These premises are located, surprisingly, in what appears to be a breeze block shack with substantial purple shutters fitted to the exterior of the windows!  I hoved into view at about 8am with my two hessian bags stuffed to the brim with clothing and mounted on my aged person's shopping trolley.  I don't know why the proprietors of such premises are always so surly and tend to remind one of the inmates of caves such as those seen in the Flintstones, do you dear?  I did, eventually, manage to secure a small level of rapport but this may not have been assisted by my filling what turned out to be plastic coffee cups with my washing powder!
I did happen to bump into Caspar on my way back home - the citizen with the chipmunk and a penchant for mauve-patterned waistcoats - and he kindly offered to let me have a bath round at his premises if I should need one (my having expatiated, at some length, about the failed heating element in my immersion tank).  My need to avail myself of such facilities has been mounting in a rather exponential sort of a way and so I materialized on Caspar's doorstep this very afternoon with the kind of accoutrements generally required for the bathing of the female form.  Somewhat to my consternation - bearing in mind the general need for discretion in small outposts such as Outer Hamlet - muted thumpings on the door knocker were greeted by barking at loud volume and huge paws scrabbling about in the higher portion of the door glass!  I have never acquainted myself with the appearance of the Hound of the Baskervilles but I think Caspar's dog may very well fit the physical characteristics of said beast.  Of course, I was very firm pet and immediately turned my back, crossed my arms, and yelled, 'DOWN!'  And although I do not think he understood this command he did - at least momentarily - remove his claws from either side of my neck.  I must say that the furnishings round at Caspar's looked much more luxurious than my own at Forsythia Grove, but then he is probably not obliged to acquire his furniture from 'Wot Not's' in Inner Hamlet . . .  The shower was actually most delectable and I do feel strongly tempted to attend these premises again - particularly as I have been invited!
Aunt Agatha

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