Personal beautification . . .

Perfect Retirement Housing Complex

Inner Hamlet

CORSETTSHIRE  QY4 2PN

My Dear Ralph

I was very tempted, the other day dear, by the prospect of personal beautification (on offer!) down at the local health spa.  As you know, my efforts on this front are usually confined to monthly trips to have my nails re-painted and to have my French pleat re-pleated.  But this week, I decided to push the boat out and engage in a 'Lip Blooming Upgrade.'  (It did, of course, assist matters that this was the shortest - and cheapest - treatment on offer, but naturally I did not offer this information up to the telephone receptionist when I phoned to make my booking.)  Laid back in the recliner chair, eyelids covered by the usual slices of cucumber, I let myself bathe in the delights of having my lips gently exfoliated with Jojoba microspheres enriched with apricot butter.  You reallly must try it pet!  One's lips emerge from this experience re-plumped and re-moisturized to the extent that lips are practically all one is able to think about for the rest of the day!

To change the subject slightly, I did manage to attend my college course yesterday and, for the morning at least, contrived to give the impression of a more-or-less-normal human being to the other students gathered around the table.  However, I must admit to finding the topics of MEWPS (Mobile Extensible Working Platforms) to be less than inspiring; in fact dear, I may have had forty winks in one or two places during the exposition given to us on this subject.  The subject of tree poisoning was, however, somewhat more captivating and you will barely be able to credit what one or two bounders over in the U S of A get up to in order to get a view of the sea from their condominiums!  Apparently, they slink out at night, drill holes in the buttress roots of the vista-blocking tree-line, and pour in some translocated (don't ask me to translate pet) herbicide.  And, of course, the trees are deceased in a matter of weeks!  Over here, similar malefactors apparently creep about (also after dark) urinating on their neighbours' trees through apertures in the fence and shooting copper nails into them with a bow and arrow!  One interesting snippet relates to the fact that you are legally entitled to snip through your neighbour's tree roots should they make an appearance in your own garden.  And it doesn't even seem to be a criminal offence if, by said action, the tree becomes unsafe to the point of blowing back on to your neighbour's house.  This sounds most exciting pet!  Perhaps we could experiment on that giant conifer on the other side of your own fence?

Another interesting conversation took place when Betty, another course student, came up to me and asked how my endeavours on the internet dating front were going.  I did finally admit to having uploaded a photo of the kind of person one might see employed in a very drab museum, and she exhorted me to try extolling the virtues of lipstick and nail polish in my 'profile.'  We also discussed the (somewhat dubious) merits of college employee X, whom we had recently encountered - at some length - in the library.  And she told me the most frightful story about how he'd been trying to chat a student up in the college minibus and had offered to lick all the chocolate off of her hankie!  Heavens dear.  Whatever next?

Yours

Aunt Agatha  

Heavy duty farm spade . . .

Perfect Retirement Housing Complex

Inner Hamlet

CORSETTSHIRE  QY4 2PN

My Dear Ralph

It seems like a perfect age since I last wrote pet?  Indeed, I think it may have been at least five days.  This morning, I thought I'd better embark on a trip to charge the battery on the Banger 0.9L  (You will remember dear, that I decided to leave this piece of equipment under the one, working, car park security light for a whole week.)  so I sauntered out across the compound dressed in my new James Bond attire - an all black outfit acquired yesterday from one of Bright Litton's cast off clothing shops - and opened the door.  I had no sooner sat down when my eye was caught by the missing front panel of the radio.  Now, subsequent to nearly having it pinched recently, I know exactly why I remove this every night, but it really is most annoying to be nearly-always leaving it upstairs in my secret drawer.  Anyway, there you have it, no radio, and a drive the whole way to Little Soppington in prospect.  Delightfully, however, the Banger 0.9L started without incident and there was only one screech from the brakes as I stepped on them while passing the bus shelter.  No more panes of glass have been shattered in the night!  I really must remember to phone Cheryl (our councillor) on the topic of the surveillance camera we plan to instal in its roof-top light.  I don't know whether I have told you dear, but Pom-Pom has agreed to have the wireless receiver for this device in his front room - overlooking, as it does, the car park.  According to Cheryl, the local fuzz will be sending round a Community Police Officer just in case, I gather, that local hoodies gain intelligence regarding our plan for their capture! I don't know quite what self-defence methods they could possibly intend to instruct Pom-Pom in (other than never answering the door - which he carries out to perfection already) but I myself, as you know, am already well-versed in the Black Arts.  Do I mean 'black' pet?  I fancy I may be looking for quite a different word.  Actually, thinking of black has reminded me that my new outfit might look altogether more effective were it not for Chumley's long white fur sticking in clumps all over it.

It is certainly amazing how, whenever one plans any sort of drive to charge up the battery, rain starts lashing down in swathes across the roof-tops and winds look set to blow hard enough to blow trees down.  I rapidly noticed how the river Otter had overflown its banks and how ducks and swans were floating on all the local fields.  However, I did manage to swish along the lanes to Little Soppington and back without once turning my lights on!  I did see Malcolm's bright lilac vehicle parked in a deserted-looking layby and he was just emerging from a hedge carrying what looked like a heavy duty farm spade.  But there was no sign of Mary.  I wonder how he is coping with her long illness now?

Having returned to Perfect, I spotted Docker heaving herself up the front stairs and we decided to go and examine the 'show' kitchen.  I

don't know pet.  You certainly can't trust Perfect to plan even elementary kitchen design without making a hash of it.  You would think, wouldn't you, that they would have some insight into the average height of the mostly elderly people ensconced in here?  The average height is most definitely short and here we have a most glaring example of long, tall, cupboards situated well out of reach upon the walls.  It is additionally the case that many elderly people have difficulty bending, and the floor-mounted cupboards provide any number of low, out-of-sight, crannies which make their use virtually impossible.  Not only that, there is also this expectation by Perfect that, once we are installed in these tiny 'flats' we shall never have any desire to embark upon a hobby of any kind - not even that of cooking the dinner.  And so the work tops are practically non-existent and the one in the 'show' kitchen was unreachable, owing to being situated in an inaccessible corner!  If I was living in there dear, I would have to resort to making a complaint - but luckily poor Mavis is deceased and so will not be needing to use this facility.  Did I ever tell you about that dear?  Well, apparently, Our Leader came across said inmate slumped across a washing machine, and generally rolling her eyeballs, in the laundry one day.  So this certainly goes to show that persons who are most often found in their doctor's consulting rooms during the week, are not more immune than the rest of us to ghastly events involving being wheeled out on a stretcher!

Yours

Aunt Agatha 

Dry cleaning . . .

Perfect Retirement Housing Complex

Inner Hamlet

CORSETTSHIRE  QY4 2PN

Ralph dear

I have been rather loitering about, trying to recover from recent exploits . . . And I have decided to utilize this opportunity to embark on a long overdue session of 'dry cleaning.'  This does not, as you might suppose, involve an actual trip to a 'Fresh and Press' style outlet.  It means engaging in an experience of 'hanging about' the environs here at Perfect - doing virtually nil - with the purpose of observing one's own observers.  We, in the Service, discovered this idea in the manuals customarily used by the 'other side.'  And it is a useful one.  So, here I am, meandering about the corridors and local streets, incognito one must hope.  I have been fortunate enough to encounter very few inmates in the hallways and neither did I encounter any on the (long) hike to Economy Fare for alcoholic beverages and chocolate raisins.  I don't usually (as you know) embark on many trips to the perimeter.  However, I am currently occupying a prime parking site - under the one working security light - and I am reluctant to lose it to any car-owning inmate currently surveying the car park through binoculars from his/her flat.
I did brace myself to attend Our Leader's birthday party here last Friday evening, although it was with some trepidation that I eventually breezed through the doors attired in a suitably frilly outfit.  Docker and Muriel had kindly reserved me a seat beside them in the patio alcove (thakfully round the corner to most of the other denizens of the building) but we were still excessively close to the two most ferocious members of the current Social Committee.  I don't think I was imagining it pet, when I say that I sensed a certain bristling emanating from Marta and Flora and I think this may have had something to do with my absenting myself from the preparations surrounding this event.  As you know, inmates require a cast iron excuse, submitted in triplicate, for failing to turn up to any occasion organized by themselves.  However, the party was a perfectly decent affair and both staff and inmates had worked hard to supply buffet-style consumables, which were brought round to us on plates.  I do wish, though, that someone had thought to turn off the overhead 'flying saucer' lights as it is rather a trial to be constantly seated under the kind of lighting one would expect to see  mounted above one at the dental surgery. Entertainment was supplied by Eddie, seated at the keyboard, and the only taxing moment took place a couple of hours later when he asked me for a dance, persistently crooned into my ear that I was 'super' and then asked me what flat number I resided at!  My goodness dear; surely a lady of my reputation can get through one evening here at Perfect without being propositioned by some male or other.  I wouldn't be at all surprised if he was married!  Matters were not assisted by the sight of three members of staff seated on 'thrones' at the far end of the room, all lapping the situation up through their eyeware.  I did, of course, decide that 10pm was a quite suitable hour at which a lady might retire to bed and I did not, thankfully, detect any scratchings at my door at a later juncture!  I was somewhat disconcerted the following morning - upon encountering Marta in town - when she informed me that 'someone' had made unusual ingress into the building at a late hour, and had placed a brick in the door to prevent it locking behind them.  I do hope that Eddie did not secrete himself in the toilet and generally creep about the building in search of Yours Truly?
Meanwhile, the topic of the 'elections' to the new Social Committee has cropped up again.  As usual, there is to be no public AGM and an empty form appeared on the notice board with a request for inmates to nominate themselves, in conjunction with signatures from a proposer and a seconder.  Well Marta was the first to leap on board and, latterly, I have noticed the Gauleiter's signature also appear.  He will be applying for his usual position (except when he was usurped last year!) as Chairman.  God help us pet because what this individual knows about chairing a committee can be fitted on to the head of a very small pin.  Generally, this committee adopts the style of a military dictatorship and there is a total absence of a pre-meeting agenda or a post-meeting set of minutes.  I do find this depressing but, although I feel I know one or two things about the general running of a committee, I don't feel like joining myself and having a stand-up fight with the personnel involved.  Nor, for that matter, do I feel like standing out from the general run of inmates by my ability to spell!  The only consolation this matter has yielded up so far, is that Margaret and Dennis have not applied to join up.  As you will recall dear, this duo threw their toys out of the pram earlier on this year when they resigned their positions on said committee.
I am also having one or two slight problems with my video recorder (which cuts out within 10 minutes of the start of every film) and I am rapidly reaching the point where I think I will be doing without every electronic gadget with the exception of my radio transmitter . . .  It is not as if I am a fool pet; it's just I wish to spend my time on creative ventures of one kind and another or, at the very least, in cleaning my gun!
Your Auntie

A lady must defend herself . . . (part two)

Perfect Retirement Housing Complex

Inner Hamlet

CORSETTSHIRE  QY4 2PN



To continue with my story pet . . .

Just as the door came crashing in and there were further whumps of gunfire - I think the shooter must have got tangled up in Sebastian's full length, plush-velvet, curtain - Gelert, Tugger and I dashed up three full flights of stairs to the attics.  (It is certainly very lucky dear, that we have all been exercising off the biscuits, so to speak, in recent weeks.)  I must say that, having arrived up there, with the sound of pounding footfalls on the landing beneath, I was momentarily non-plussed over our next move.  I obviously couldn't heave Tugger 3m up in the air and out on to the roof through the skylight; he wears at least as much as the average size walrus.  And even had I got them both up there, how could we have shinned down the drainpipe?  So, with moments to spare, I shoved both animals into the nearest attic, shouted 'Basket!' and locked them in.  I then leaped on to an antique chest, opened the roof hatch, and was through.  I have, in the past, wished that dear Sebastian would get the roof seen to; there have been any number of near misses with masonry tumbling from the Rococo turrets on to the path beneath.  However, on this occasion, I was relieved to see a loose block littering the roof flashing, and I heaved it on top of the hatch.

I was more than aware though dear, that the physical build of the assassin ensconced directly beneath the skylight, resembled that of the character who plays Jaws in the James Bond movies.  You remember him pet?  The one with the giant set of steel teeth.  It seemed to me that I had but minutes to reconnoitre the acreage of roof which comprises the apex of Steamy Towers, before he emerged.  And I was just peering over the edge of said roof - whilst conveniently concealed behind a tall chimney - when there was a crash and said predator toppled over the stone block holding down the hatch.  I swung round, half-kneeling, and sighted the target along the muzzle of my Beretta.  'Pouff!' went the gun.  It always amazes me the way a 9mm bullet can penetrate a subject in such an elegant, almost genteel, way.  And, without, I must say, any fillips of blood being ejected on to the clothing of the deceased individual.  And he was deceased dear.  I have kept up my practice on the shooting range at Inner Hamlet, never, of course, revealing my true identity to the local practitioners of the incendiary arts.  One can never tell when it will be necessary to shrug off an alias and spring into action!  And I do feel a certain chill recur in my eyes on such occasions.  Anyway, I flipped open my phone and communicated to the local force the need for urgent attendance at the Towers.  And it was urgent because I thought I could detect the sound of shouting welling up through the open skylight.
The drainpipe, when I found one, had a nest of some description sticking out of its open top end and, upon further inspection, seemed only vestigially attached to the wall.  Making a note to have a word with Sebastian about this matter (should I ever see him again) I clasped the black paintwork with both hands, knees and ankles and began my slide down the 20m or so to the ground.  You will not be surprised when I tell you pet, that it took about 10 seconds for the bolt-work to slide out of its insertion points and for the whole ensemble to sway some distance out from the wall.  This type of things does make me cross; what does it take for someone to go round every so often and check the joints?  Luckily, Sebastian has the same, rather lax, attitude to trees growing in close proximity to the foundations - and has a substantial Beech tree in situ at this point.  And so I was able to slide across on to a strong-looking limb growing out from the main trunk.  Whilst so engaged dear, I had ample opportunity to note a quantity of fungal fruiting bodies protruding from the bark.  Ganoderma I think pet.  Ganoderma applanatum.  I wonder if Sebastian realizes that such fungi are strongly associated with decay and that his tree might snap in two during the next strong wind to blow about the premises?  I must put that on my list!
Anyway, having - eventually - made my descent, I saw that the police had managed to surround the criminal element and that they were being loaded into the back of a large black van.  Sebastian was also on the scene (looking slightly rumpled I thought) and in the process of being re-united with a, rather excited, Gelert and Tugger.  I did think it was a little ungrateful of him to demand why I had left them in the attic - while I escaped to the safety of the roof!  There is certainly no pleasing some people pet and I think I may have to leave my list of improvements to a later date!
Yours
Aunt Agatha

Secret Service: EPISODE 50

Perfect Retirement Housing Complex

Inner Hamlet

CORSETTSHIRE  QY4 2PN

My Dear Ralph

I have needed all my powers as an operative today pet; events have almost resembled my former days of derring-do with the Secret Services!  I motored over to Steamy Towers after luncheon - Sebastian's new installation of laser beams thankfully turned off - and was met by rather querulous enquiries on the topic of missing Choc 'n Nut biscuits.  I, of course, kept schtum and cast a few hazy looks around at shelves laden with this-and-that summer fare, not to mention table loads of wine bottles undiscarded since the last War.  'No,' I said, 'Perhaps they are under something?'  However, Sebastian tutted with disgust and moved on to remarks about supplies of dog towels and his keenly-anticipated visit to the home of one blonde bauble - Fenella by name - picked up night-clubbing last week.

While I am on this subject of the 'pick-up' pet, I recollect one or two remarks Sebastian made subsequent to returning from a card game - that one involving, at minimum, four people - and which is not Poker and may well have been at its peak of popularity before your own time.  I hear that it may have originated on the Trans-Siberian railway sometime in the late nineteenth century, but this tale could be apocryphal and someone, somewhere, may know better than I?   Anyway, on the occasion I relate, Sebastian returned - a little worse for wear I thought - and said that he'd had no luck 'hunting.'  'Hunting?' I enquired for, naturally, the juxtaposition of such a word with 'card play' is somewhat anomalous to an innocent.  Well Sebastian fudged it, as is his wont with the actual straight answer, and replied (looking a bit pink about the chops): 'Hunting for the card . . .'  I don't know dear.  Sometimes I think he thinks I am an total dimwit (except in the arena of the garrotte-style execution of course).  Sebastian, pet - unless you, yourself, have failed to get the point here - has a predilection for the ladies and comes by them during activities of the night.  Now. Where was I?  I seem to have digressed from my story.

When Sebastian disappeared into the day's haze, casting, I thought, one or two suspicious looks in my direction, I decided to whip out for a walk with Gelert and Tugger before the telephone had time to ring with any tricky invitations.  Luckily dear, it wasn't actually raining on this occasion and we had a fine time ferreting about in the long grasses and generally enjoying the scenic surrounds and view of the moat.  There was one anxious moment when I thought Gelert might be on the point of crushing a squrrel's head between her teeth - but said prey just managed to make it into the upper boughs of the Hungarian Oak we were passing at the time.
There was, of course, no need to break out the dog towels upon our return and so I sat down to divide one Choc 'n Nut biscuit into three parts - i one piece for myself and the other pieces for Gelert and Tugger.  I must say pet, that they seem to have acquired quite a taste for said biscuits and I hope this isn't altogether due to the activities of Yours Truly.   Anyway, at this juncture, an almighty banging sound was heard at the outer portals of Steamy Towers, together with revvings of a distinctly threatening character.  The dogs immediately commenced a most indiscreet barking; I was hard put to sit on one and clamp my hands around the jaws of the other, to instil the urgent need for immediate quiet.  Cautiously we peeked our furry heads out of the windows.  Oh pet!  We saw a large blue juggernaut outside, complete with ramp, straw-stuffed wooden crates, large hydraulic trolleys, and heavy-duty battering ram.  We also saw several blackguards, outfitted in masks, running backwards and forwards at the Tower's main doors (the ones to Sebastian's collection of naked stone goddesses).  And, worse, dear, a henchman appeared to be making his way along the wall to our own door with what distinctly looked like a Smith and Wesson .357 Magnum revolver held in a firm grip.  Well I can recognize a trained assassin when I see one, and I immediately conjectured that they had somehow inactivated all the alarms and were set upon inactivating any potential witnesses they might find on the scene!  As volleys of bullets started to thud into the door locks, I threw off my high heels and dived towards the phone.  But there was silence dear; the wires were cut!  Well a lady must defend herself, and I swiftly removed my Beretta 9mm pistol from my handbag, together with my cell phone (not nearly the same as my old Webley .45 revolver, but there you are).  One must move with the times!
Just as the door came crashing in . . .

TO BE CONTINUED   

Purity's mad goose . . .

Perfect Retirement Housing Complex

Inner Hamlet

CORSETTSHIRE  QY4 2PN

Excuse me waiving my usual style of address pet, but I am feeling somewhat out of sorts.  And I think it may have something to do with the sudden plethora of suitors competing for my attentions!  I spent most of last week engaged in a most riveting - and prolific - correspondence with my new chum Eustace who hails, naturally, from a city located at the other end of the country.  By the end of last week, we had mutually decided that we had to meet and that this meeting was going to involve us both driving 200 miles to a centrally located rendezvous: the city of Middle Bit.  I was a little alarmed at this thought dear as I, myself, have not actually driven on a motorway for nearly a decade!  And there was also the slight issue of informing my other two suitors exactly what I was proposing to do.  Guthrie, when informed, maintained an imperturbable demeanour and kindly offered to take me on a few laps of the nearest motorway to show me how to do it. This was certainly good of him and it was most useful being re-acquainted with the latest truck speed limits and methods of overtaking anyone who had the temerity to be in the actual way.  'Concentrate' he said. 'Concentrate very hard.  All the way.'   However, I also had to inform my newest chum, one Maxwell from just around the corner, who had invited me round to help him assemble his new refracting telescope.  (Satellite tracking, as you know pet, is a subject with which I am well acquainted.)  Imagine my mortification then, when said Maxwell's disappointment - upon hearing that I would not be available on the agreed day - seemed solely due to his need for someone to tap in the baseline settings for his new device! 
I must say that I was in a state of some high anxiety as the Banger 0.9L and I motored down the ramp to Junction 5.  In fact, the Banger was probably in the throes of a nasty wake up call, never having been required to drive more than 20 miles at one time for the past three years.  It was, of course, raining and the juggernauts ahead - the ones with multiple sets of very wide tyres - seemed obscured in massive clouds of spray and were a daunting sight.  They were a particularly daunting sight when one vehicle tried to overtake another at a speed only slightly exceeding its comrade in the innermost lane.  I hung back pet; it seemed a petrifying prospect to attempt to motor past in the outside lane.  However, given the time it took to accomplish the manoeuvre ahead, I believe I was in error.  One skilled gentleman, in the Lotus ahead, did just motor through the spray - disappearing, at one point, inside it and I do feel that his method, of simply dealing immediately with the problem was the correct one. So next time this happened pet, the Banger and I just purred past in exactly the same way.  Wonderful.  And, to think, I have been avoiding excitement of this nature for quite some years now.  I have been dead on the verge of Life!
Within four hours or so of non-stop driving (well I didn't dare to actually pet) I had arrived at our rendezvous: the Sopwith Hotel and was parking the Banger 0.9L adjacent to a large shrubbery in the car park.  I did detect a slight aroma of burning rubber emanating from under the bonnet, but possibly this is natural for a journey of such length?  I decided, in any event, not to investigate!  Now Eustace had requested that I array myself in a particularly fetching pair of red lacy stocking and cherry-coloured high heel boots and this took some minutes to accomplish in the Banger's less-than-ample back seat.  And Eustace himself - given my propensity for colours of a vivid hue - had promised to arrive in sparkly leggings and iridescent head gear! I could scarcely wait I can tell you!  The hotel staff, meanwhile, were most accommodating and I was soon ensconced in a comfy seat awaiting coffee.  I think they may have wondered a little at my constant pacing of the hallway in the lacy red stockings, but there was a very weak telephone signal in this premises and I couldn't communicate with Eustace!  Eventually, I did relate all to several members of hotel staff and we were soon arranged up against the windows, noses pressed against the glass, in the wait for Eustace to motor up in the Spandex get up!
Eventually - for I was one or two hours early dear - the unsuspecting Eustace flashed past the glass.  And he was not a disappointment dear; in fact we were all agog as this sparkly apparition mounted the hotel steps.  The staff, however, were professional enough to feign disinterest and I don't think Eustace noticed as they busied themselves with floor polishing and hoovering activities!  Well.   Eustace and I woofled down some Earl Grey tea and croissants and engaged in some actual dialogue regarding what we were going to do next.  Eventually, we decided to motor off on a visit to the closely located 'Doughnut World' who promised to offer "unlimited doughnuts".  Just fancy that pet!  After one or two detours and enquiries regarding the way to these premises, we finally arrived. I don't know if you have ever been to this emporium dear?  It has at least 18 car parks and all the metal railings are painted luminescent fuschia pink!  It was very hard to find a parking place since the whole of Middle Bit seemed to have fetched up there for the day and Eustace and I found ourselves demurring somewhat.  Eustace was particularly demurring at the price of entry:£25.00 each!  I myself did not think this a material objection; after all, a lady is not expected to pay when she is on an outing with a gentleman.  However, examining the set of Eustace's jaw, it did seem prudent to suggest a (free) ride on the wiggly purple snake instead.  And this is what we did dear - each munching on an unlimited quantity of doughnuts as we sped through the spray coating the interior of this slide.
As for what eventually happened, well I think we were both somewhat dismayed by each other's accounts of deranged former lovers.  Indeed, we were both obviously hoping that this cast of crystal-wielding, cockroach-resembling, personnel had not followed us in our respectives travels up and down the motorway.  And one must look on the bright side dear: at least I must have blasted several years of Coke out of the Banger's rear end in my peregrinations from one end of our green land to the other.
Your loving Auntie
Agatha  

A lady of refinement (part two) . . .

Perfect Retirement Housing Complex

Inner Hamlet

CORSETTSHIRE QY4 2PN

My Dear Ralph

Well the afternoon wore on . . . and - having off-loaded the 'exercise the beagles' session on to Alfie - I realized that I would have to patrol the exterior of the premises with Sebastian's own two animals plus, inevitably, my electrical 'zapper' gun.  (One must take one's duties seriously at all times, mustn't one pet?)  It was, of course, pouring down with the type of rainfall that looked like it might last for some days.  I did go to see if Sebastian had any umbrellas in the umbrella rack but, naturally, he was only equipped with those vast, fluorescent-red, stripy ones used, I believe, in the practice of that game involving long, clubbed, sticks and bunkers. And how can one possibly survey the surrounds for interlopers while enveloped - glowingly - in such an item?  I decided in the end to attire myself in one of Sebastian's own svelte green hunting jackets and, having attached a lead to Gelert - who can shoot of like the proverbial greyhound at the slightest visual temptation - materialized at the outer portals. It is certainly most delightful walking around the specimen trees on a country estate at the weekend pet.  I did wish I had thought to attire myself in gumboots of some description, but the swimming pool (heated of course; Sebastian does not favour a morning dip of an actually icy nature) is fortunately located in the vicinity of said portals and one can swish off excess soil from the grounds in there.  The dogs had a marvellous romp anyway, although it is always of slight concern when they vanish into the shrubberies for an extended period of time.  Suppose they fell into some kind of hidden pit or other?  And it would be just my luck for this to happen!  Sebastian is rather given to getting out the magnifying lenses on his return from any outing!

The other thing is that, during the course of our peregrinations round the estate, Gelert and Tugger had come to hold quite some litres of rainfall in their coats.  Before I could think about it, they had pelted up the short flight of stairs into the downstairs hall and I was just in time to see Tugger, in particular, shake himself and a huge spray of water and mud rise up in the air and on to the nearest sculptures!  I didn't dare go into the (locked) cellar to fetch the dog towels in case it set off a wave of howling sirens so, hissing 'Sit!' at both animals, I dashed off to the nearby toilet and kitchen to fetch such tea towels as I could find.  They were so fluffy dear and had such attractive designs of famous English generals on them!  What they looked like after a vigorous rubbing down of Gelert and Tugger, I will leave it to you to imagine.
I spent the rest of the afternoon - exhausted from my efforts on a variety of fronts - slumped in the dog basket with the dogs and awaiting Sebastian's return.  We had such a fine view of the bannisters from the basket!  Thorough as ever, Sebastian inspected the dogs for their degree of wetness and enquired if I'd thought of drying them off . . . I said that, indeed, I had thought of it (if a little too late) and had availed myself of items found in the toilet and kitchen.  And, fortunately, even Sebastian didn't think - then - of inspecting the sculptures under his magnifying lenses. However, he may yet be on the telephone making one or two enquiries of me on this subject!
How are you getting along pet?  Did you take my advice regarding attendance at that 'Wean yourself off Ativan' session that we discussed at our rendezvous last week?  I know you have to pay what sounds like an extortionate sum, but surely we can rustle up some synthetic bank notes from somewhere?
Yours
Aunt Agatha