Sunday, 16 December 2012

The prototype . . .

10 Forsythia Grove
Outer Hamlet
My Dear Ralph
I have just achieved some considerable success in adjusting my new phone, delivered up to me - for professional use only - by 'Q' section last week.  Wonderful though it is to have access to advanced technology (way beyond the reach of the average citizen at large) I have been rather galled that electronic mail from my latest correspondent - one 'Wings Afloat' - has been blocked by the purists back at 'Q.'  And I have been deliberating upon how to outwit them . . .  Eventually, and with some long application of patience, I accessed the 'incoming server settings' and tweaked the required controls.  So, now, unless the 'Q' surfers are on to me, Wings Afloat and I are able to relay one or two messages.  This individual dear, you may be interested to learn, is a retired champion skier from Macedonia!  It is certainly a miracle that he took up ski jumping as his own speciality, for I am not sure that this particular region of Greece is renowned for its quantity of snowfall!  Also, dear, he is 45 years old . . .  I know I am only 62, but there are moments (if only occasional) when I fear he may be too young for me?
I am also pleased to relate that Pom-Pom has finally exited (alive) from No Return District General Hospital and is ensconced in one of the Care of the Elderly wards in Inner Hamlet hospital.  I motored over there yesterday and was relieved to see that he did actually look clean, and fairly comfortable, in a four-bedded unit with an overhead TV facility.  I do sometimes wonder, however, if they should employ some kind of "welcomer" person (responsible for radiating "warmth of heart") who could humanize what is, after all, a stark and impersonal environment.  Even a former operative can quail somewhat and feel dogged by feelings of insecurity and insignificance when entering a clinical setting of this type. 
I did also notice that there was a note, addressed to me, sitting on Pom-Pom's bedside locker.  It turned out to be from a social worker, going by the name of Letitia Nettcup, and seemed to be a request for me to get in touch.  I did phone up this person upon return from my visit and it transpires that dear Pom-Pom has fallen out with his daughter, the redoubtable Xanthe!  And, from the tone extant in Letitia's voice, it did rather appear that relations with the social work department are also somewhat on the strained side.  I was cheered to learn, however, that Pom-Pom has nominated me as the next best person to discuss his situation, and future, with (although I can well imagine that Xanthe will be grinding her molars at her own demesne should she get to hear of it).  Letitia is, apparently, trying to get Pom-Pom moved into the WOPA home just down the road and - on the face of it - this is good news.  My next plan pet, is to arrange a visit to WOPA in order to assess the character of the manager and associated facilities.  I do hope I will not have to pretend to be an actual blood relative in order to achieve this!
Aunt Agatha

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