Birthday weekend and the aftermath

Wilf managed to entertain me all weekend by taking me on several London Walks including the 'Eccentric London Tour' which provided a wonderful overview of the weird and wonderful world of London Town. He also asked me to stay at his flat which is located in the wilds of the Essex part of the Central Line. I was pleased to see that he'd managed to keep up a good level of tidiness and hygiene but was slightly concerned that he hadn't changed his dishcloth for a while - Kim and Aggie would have a fit! He gave me a wonderful present of a pair of MBT boots which I've been humming and harring over for a while now so I can tone my bottom whilst I walk, which is a bonus in this economic climate.

Luckily I was put up in the spare room; I know that I've 'had relations' with him in the past but I can't be bothered nowadays as I'd have to re-iron my nightie afterwards which spoils the moment somewhat. Wilf's spare room is a little strange, it's got a distinct 80s vibe which consists of a black metal bedstead, dark ash units and matching curtains and duvet cover which Max Headroom would have been proud to own. On Sunday morning he knocked politely on the door, waited to I'd mumbled consent and tried to kiss me after proferring a copy of Essex on Sunday. If he'd offered the full broadsheet edition of The Sunday Times I may have consented, but a free paper? Dream on matey.

Wilf's job

Wilf was called into a meeting with his Director today and told (in no uncertain terms) to apply for the latest severance package. Wilf was rather shaken and by lunchtime and had to sit in the Civil Service Club for 96 minutes nursing a brandy balloon. I tried my best to comfort him but it's clear that his job has been cut from under him and as he's in such a specialised area [information architecture] it's likely that he'll not find a similar job in the public sector.

It hasn't been a great week to be honest, the council library nearest the Department is also due to close in September, which is very depressing because I love to read the latest best sellers whilst inhaling the scent of stale tramp. Joking aside, it's ridiculous how this Government is cutting essential things like libraries which are the liveblood of many a community. The Government say that they want to tackle key policies such as poverty and literacy, which are indelibly linked, but they go ahead and slash key services. I could start ranting on about the 'Big Society' but writing a public blog as a Government employee they'll send me to a remote part of North Wales and send a huge bouncy ball after me if I start revolting.

Rant over! It's my 41st birthday on Friday and Wilf and I have booked the day off to enjoy the delights of the metropolis.

Craft Fayres galore

Friday night was spent sharing a bottle of wine with cousin Eleanor and Emma; I'd much prefer the former wasn't quite so miserable but with her husband leaving her at New Year and with crippling mortgage payments she hasn't a great deal to smile about. Emma and me were amazed by some of her tales, apparently she's trying to find further evidence of her husband's infidelity by using Google maps to identify gentlemen departing various strip clubs in the Central/Greater London region. She's clearly mad.

Yesterday Wilf took me out and about in the Audi; he was his normal polite self but there's someting lacking - before we had some kind of chemistry but it seems to have dissipated since we were last 'walking out' together. We visited a craft fayre in Leyton, you'd think a London surburb served by the Central Line wouldn't be a natural location for such an event, but you'd be wrong. Call me foolish, but I can't stand standing around various stalls manned by people who believe beards can be a fashion statement and tie-dye is 'hip' trying to power sell me a windchime. Wilf bought me a rather nice silver ring though and a selection of joss sticks for his flat.

We lunched in a nearby Thai restaurant, which was pleasant. After sharing a bottle of 'Chardonnay' which tasted of acetone, he asked me back to his flat but I refused stating that I had to return home to re-talc Father's worm cast.

St Valentine's Day

I arrived at work at 9am today; at 9:30 Wilf walked into the office with a colourful pot plant, a splendid card, a huge box of chocolates and an invitation to lunch. Unfortunately, due to the timing of our reunion he was unable to book anywhere for in the vicinity at such short notice so we ended up going to a roped off area of the staff restaurant where they'd put paper tablecloths with rudimentary heart shapes cut out of them. They were playing a selection of panpipe tunes which included: My Heart Will Go On, The Greatest Love of All and Only You.. The menu was, unfortunately the same as the rest of the canteen, so we feasted on tinned oxtail soup followed by sausage, beans and chips with Angel Delight Trifle for dessert.

Afterwards we took a romantic stroll around St James's Park which was very pleasant. Wilf apologized that he couldn't take me out tonight but apparently he has to accompany a friend of his Mother's to a whilst drive. I made a mental note to leave a towel on a radiator when I stay with Wilf next time as I've heard it's very romantic.

Wilf and the seaside

Yesterday we went to Hastings for a trip in Wilf's car, it was rather nice to be honest. Firstly Wilf decided to stop off en route in the picturesque 'St Leonard's upon Sea' because he forms part of the 'Save the Pier Committee' which is a bit odd in itself; apparently he became involved due to a previous incident in which he became obsessed with 2p slot machines and found redemption in pier salvation. He stated that he'd like to buy a house on the coast one day.

We had a wonderful lunch in a retro fish and chip cafe; Wilf was terribly gentlemanly, holding my chair out, standing up whenever a lady entered the cafe and generally seemed a little bit embarrassing if I'm truly honest. Luckily he wasn't wearing a hat, as I'm sure he would have doffed that at every given opportunity. We later went for a stroll along the coast, him holding my hand - it was very nice and very like old times.

The subject of Mr A did come up, Wilf said that he was sorry that he'd disappeared in such a manner and he was a great loss to the Civil Service. He also said that he bore me no ill will and hoped that we could put the past behind us. I do hope so. Wilf drove me home about 7ish, I didn't want to ask him in as Mother was hosting a 'John Barrowman Appreciation Evening' and we didn't wish to impose.

My name is Margaret and I'm drunk!

Yes I bloody am, sorry for swearing but I've had a few. Wilf rang and asked me to dinner at the civil service club which is always fun. I was pleased to note that they've retained their coffin/sweet trolley, which is always reassuring during these difficult financial times. We had the three course Thursday special which included a choice of roast waterfowl - Wilf joked that they'd been hunting in nearby St James's Park with an enormous butterfly net to save on butcher's fees.

Wilf is rather dreamy after several glasses of wine. His hair doesn't appear quite so greasy when you've enough booze to oil the wheels of attraction and his pimples were hidden under a trainee goatee beard. I particularly loved the way he'd teamed a pair of suit trousers with casual Converse, surely a fashion juxtaposition nobody has really thought out.

He's asked me out again on Saturday for a car journey to the coast. I've accepted as I've nothing better to do now Mother spends most of the time with her fancy man and Father has donned his earthworm suit and wriggles around the garden in an alarming manner most of the time.

Mr A's memorial service

Yesterday was a very emotional day for me as I attended Mr A's memorial service. Held in his home village in Kent it was a moving tribute to the man many loved, some liked and quite a few actively detested. Mr A snr paid tribute to his son, calling him 'the ideal grammar school boy' and luckily the 'friend' who wrote such a damning eulogy a few weeks ago wasn't able to attend because he'd had both legs broken at a recent donkey derby. The highlight of the service was when the deceased/missing (delete as applicable)'s relatives played a haunting rendition of the popular hit 'Goodbye Mr A' via swanny whistle, kazoo and tamborine. This was something I, and many other guests would never forget.

Back at the house we consumed Mrs A's famous 'running buffet #3' which consisted of sausages on sticks, cheese and pineapple on a stick, roasted new potatoes on a stick, in fact, it was pretty 'stick' based finger food. Mr A snr managed to maintain an air of restrained dignity by hugging me at various points whilst trying to fondle my bottom, something which is rather hard to do when one is sporting a silk mix pleated skirt as I was - his hands kept slipping off. Sometimes I wonder where some of Mr A jnr's traits came from, wonder no more.

Wilf unexpectedly turned up towards the end to pay his respects. I'd no idea that they knew one another apart from the work connection but apparently there was some other convoluted reason for his attendance which I'm at a loss to understand, especially as they were sworn enemies. Wilf kindly offered me a lift home, which I accepted. His relationship with Miss Renault 2010 has ended after she left him for the South East's number 1 car finance salesman 2007-present day. I was relieved to learn that.