Southford Country Fayre

Well Spring Bank Holiday weekend can only mean one thing in the Southford Social Calendar - the country fayre. Mother and I spent all day yesterday preparing for it, Mother making her 'special' orange marmalade and baking her high fibre health loaf. I stuck to my area of expertise, my award winning rock cakes. Anyway, with Father being very much out of action and being unable to drive Mother decided to take the executive decision of driving the Mondeo; unfortunately she collided with a parked car and once she'd sorted out the insurance details she telephoned her friend Mrs Bennett who offered us all a lift in her aged Ford Escort estate.

We arrived fifteen minutes late so didn't have much time to set up our displays. Mother's arch enemy Mrs Greengrass was stalking around the tent, she's hated by Mother because she once stood in for the judge on the bread competition and cut Mother's loaf at a 45% angle causing it to descend into a pile of crumbs. Luckily, it transpired that she wasn't on the judging panel this year and Mother's former fiance Mr Davis was instead so guess who ended up walking off with first prize?

Mother disappeared into the refreshment tent for a good hour whilst I minded the tombola stall. Very few people won prizes and seemed rather miffed as a result. At 3pm Mrs Bennett approached me and said that she was ready to go if Mother was. We ventured into the refreshment tent and found Mother rather worse for wear on Mr Davis's pear and parsnip wine remenisicing about the old days.

After we'd hauled Mother into the backseat the journey home was fairly uneventful. Mr A had left two messages on my mobile answerphone so I called him back. He seemed rather distant but asked me to lunch on Tuesday as 'we've things to discuss'. I wonder if he's worried about his promotion board?

Back again

Hello everybody, sorry for the delay in writing but my home system suffered a terrible bug which caused me to be offline for a good long while! Anyway, in the interim work's been very busy and Mother's friend from the bowls club, Mrs Pendergrass, sadly passed away last Wednesday and the club decided to give her a good send off by ordering a selection of wreathes shaped like bowls and jacks. Mother was understandably distraught but consoled herself by putting in a sealed bid for Mrs P's set of old woods, she's a canny old lady who likes to play dirty, so sufficed to say those balls will be in her possession by the end of the week.

As a kind of tribute to the late Mrs P and to gain maximum value from the group booking, Mother's asked me to attend the bowls club's annual excursion to Dorset to participate in the 'Wooden Rocket League' in a fortnight's team. Although I know naff all about the game, I'm a quick learner and am looking forward to it already!

The PM has gone....welcoming the new PM....

For important civil servants such as me huge political changes are always exciting, therefore it was a true privilege to be at the centre of events today. I've attended briefing sessions, written notes and have generally immersed myself in the world of policy. I had lunch with two former colleagues today who stated how much they missed my cheerful and witty banter in the office.

Mr A has finalised the date for the trip on the Orient Express - myself, Mr A and his parents will be travelling on a British Pullman steam train on the 9th June. We're to brunch aboard with a four course supper: I for one, cannot wait!

Overnight woes

Oh dear! Confined to my room for the day by Mother for my latest indiscretion - i.e. I stayed out all night and worst of all, lied about whom I was with. Some of you may be thinking 'why's a forty year old woman obeying her mother when there's no real need to do so?' and you'd be right, but she's already given away a bag of my favourite clothes to the Scope shop as punishment and I dread to think what her fevered mind is planning in the longer term.

Let's rewind to the events of last night. I went out with Giles/Mr A to the cinema to see Avatar (over-rated if you ask me...) and of course, the trailers hadn't even finished before he was stroking my cardigan. I firmly and promptly removed his hands and whispered to him to 'sit on them' if he couldn't control his actions. Anyway, after that we went for a meal in an Italian restarant in Soho and enjoyed two pitchers of their house red. Now, as you know, I'm not a huge drinker and it soon went to my head, so when Mr A invited me round to his flat to watch 'Ashes to Ashes' which he'd recorded earlier, I was more than happy to comply.

I rang Mother and told her that I was staying with Emma for the night. She seemed a little suprised and just asked me to call her if I needed anything. Anyway, when we arrived back at Mr A's his flatmate Benji was in residence and seemed a little flustered when he'd finally managed to switch off the DVD he's been watching. He soon retired to his room and Mr A and I watched television whilst drinking Peroni and eating spicy Nik Naks.

Mr A made the bed up for me in his room and slept on the sofa. In fact, he was the perfect gentleman but I was a little surpised to see a copy of 'The Rough Guide to EU Directives' on his bedside table - strange bedtime reading methinks!

In the morning Mr A woke me with a cup of instant tea, which tasted a bit rubbish, but the sentiment was there anyway. He heated a tin of 'All Day Breakfast' for us both to share and made some toast to go with it. He accompanied me back to Charing Cross station and I arrived home about 11am.

Mother was absolutely livid when I walked in the door. Apparently Emma had telephoned at 10am reminding me that I'd promised to help her choose some new net curtains for her lounge. Mother berated me saying that I was a 'lying slattern' and nobody wants to marry a woman who'd 'drop her drawers' in the blink of an eye.

Upset and contrite, I went to my room via Dad's, which suprisingly wasn't locked. We had a long chat about Mother (who'd flounced out in the direction of the Co-op by then) and agreed that she's a very difficult woman to live with at times. We put it down to the fact that she wasn't allowed to carry on with her dancing classes after her own mother sold her ballet shoes. Sad, but true.

Hung Parliament

I'm writing this in the afternoon at work, which is deplorable, but given the events which has unravelled during the last day or so, you can understand why. A hung Parliament - whatever next? I arrived at work to much confusion, apparently the civil service hasn't been this perplexed since 1974, and that's never a good thing. We've received various briefings from our permanent secretary but to date, nothing's really been decided.

My team then decided to take the huge step of going to the pub for a 'liquid' lunch. I ordered half a Peroni but the guys on the team had a 'no halves policy' and made me consume a whole pint. I texted Mr A who came to my rescue at 12:35 and we retired to a smaller pub where he enjoyed a pint of Ruddles and myself, well a Diet Coke sufficed. He asked whether I was free tonight and I replied that I was because Mother was hosting a WI meeting in the knock-through living/dining room which unfortunately means an evening spent in the confines of my room. He brought me a double shot latte coffee five minutes ago which I'm most grateful for - he's such a gent!

Maybe he's 'the one' popular fiction always talks about? He's rather dreamy and best of all, he's been granted an interview for a Grade 6 position next week. I'm very excited, a man who's in possession of a Grade 6 salary can surely be wont of a wife!

Election day blues/reds/yellows

Well, it's an historic day for the UK and Mother and I are watching BBC1 with trepidation. Father's upstairs, he's very tired these days and rarely leaves his room.

I met Mr A'S friend Chas yesterday in the civil service club. Chas is an intelligent gentleman, but he's more than a bit odd: he sports a comb over, a sixties style suit and crocodile skin shoes. He's also had a rather thrilling life, stories from which seem to mirror key plots in Bond movies. Chas stated that he'd been the best man at several weddings and as a result had a database of speeches he can cut and paste from.

I'm getting very tired; I think I'll change into my winceyette nightie before the swingometer starts getting exciting.

Meeting Mrs A

I can't sleep: I've had such an exhilarating day meeting Mr A's Mother, Penelope. It started well, it was a lovely day, albeit slightly overcast as we caught the train to the village of Ashfield where there's a local wildlife sanctuary because Mrs A loves nothing more than communing with owls at the weekend. She met us outside and we sat down in the beautifully decorated restaurant and got to know one another over tea and scones. I was soon chatting away nineteen to the dozen with Mrs A, or 'Penelope' as she likes to be called by everyone bar the milkman 'he takes such liberties Margaret!'

After about an hour, I wandered off to the toilet and as I approached the table on my return I managed to catch the end of their conversation which seemed to include the words 'getting on a bit....beggars can't be choosers and lovely posture' Anyway, we decided to wander around the sanctuary a bit as Penelope sponsors her own European Eagle Owl, Barney, and as a result, is very much a VIP guest there. She joked that Barney would most likely turn up on her doorstep one day seeking refuge! How we all laughed.

After 40 minutes of wandering around looking in various avaries, Mr A or 'Giles Henry Arbuthnot' as his mother correctly calls him suggested that we retire to the Bishop's Mitre public house in the village for a 'flagon of their finest foaming ale'. We had a wonderful time I later pleased to read that the pub had won the coveted 'horse brass collection of the year 1994' award - hurrah!

Giles's father, Frederick joined us later on, apologising that he couldn't make it earlier but he was busy with his grand poo bar duties at the lodge. He'd forgotten to remove his ceremonial apron, but after two halves of Badger's Bottom real ale I was too intoxicated to care. The day ended with Penelope and Frederick inviting us on a lunch aboard the Orient Express in June.