Polly put the kettle on

Eleanor agreed to interview Polly as a potential lodger after I persuaded her that she'd have trouble paying the mortgage if she didn't jump at the chance. Anyway, yesterday at 8:07pm she turned up, three bottles of wine in hand (the cheapo three for a tenner offer if I'm not mistaken...) and proceeded to be interviewed. Apparently Polly was born in 1985 and named after a pack of tights her mother removed two hours prior to her birth. She had a very sad childhood which consisted of living in a series of rented flats whilst her mother sent all of their benefit money to various donkey charities. As soon as she could she left home and enrolled on a BTEC National in Fashion which led to a raft of tedious retail jobs prior to meeting Roger at a pattern cutting conference in Crewe.

When we asked why she was leaving the flat Polly tried to dodge the question but she advised me not to light too many candles around Roger, advice which I found both odd and alarming. Eleanor was more blatant and asked whether he was a pervert, Polly merely stated that she felt safe with him but it was best to buy him four bakery scones on a Saturday afternoon and usually that did the trick.

After a bottle of wine Eleanor seemed her normal drunken self and agreed to rent her spare room to Polly for a three month trial period. I don't know but I think Polly and I will become good friends, despite the fifteen year age gap.

Sun, wine and company

Yesterday was a bit of an impromptu party, well if you include guests such as Roger R, his employee, shop assistant Polly plus Emma and the awful Callum. We sat in Eleanor's back garden and enjoyed the unseasonally sunny weather with a few bottles of wine and some party food. Roger looked like a cross between Roger Moore in Octopussy crossed with Michael Cane in Zulu, his strange pith helmet-style hat and safari suit combination was bizarre to behold. It was nice to meet Polly too, apparently she's vacating the flat I'm soon to occupy and is looking for a room to rent in the vicinity - she said this loudly near Eleanor a number of times but the latter never really took the bait.

Looks wise Polly's a bit of a mixed bag, she's medium height and build with long brown hair and sparkly hazel eyes. Personality wise, well, she's a little eccentric to say the least, stating that she's a huge fan of tidybearded TV star Noel Edmonds - apparently she wanted to be on Deal or No Deal so badly that she parked a static carvan outside the studios for a week until she was forcibly moved on. She's also a poet and somewhat of a fan of creative writing, she's promised to let me see some of her work in the next few weeks which is kind of her, if nothing else.

Emma and Callum turned up at about 4pm, they'd clearly been arguing and he was a little worse for wear. I don't know what it is about men around here but at the mereest hint of sun they're removing their tops without shame - Callum's torso looks like a pasty lump of stilton, awful! He's also a very unpleasant man who loves the sound of his own jokes but can't take people laughing about him. When I asked him how his Dennis Waterman tribute band was working out he gave me a snarky reply, which wasn't called for. Eleanor soon cut him dead and they left soon after.

Roger and Polly stayed until 10pm. Roger's stories about his time as the potential Olympic badminton hope for the 1976 Montreal Olympics was hilarious, if not a little false. Personally I couldn't imagine his lumbering frame reaching out for a shuttlecock, but as Mother rightly says, I can be a little hasty at times.

Good Friday

Good Friday lived up to its name because I received a call from Roger saying that he'd checked out my references and was happy to rent me the flat at the agreed price of £500pcm. I officially move in on the 1st May, despite it being on a Sunday but Roger's a huge fan of strict rules, apparently it's the elite SAS training coming out. So that means sorting out the clearance of our old house, which is very sad but it's clearly karma and I should move on.

In some ways the 1st May couldn't come soon enough for me; Eleanor's a convivial host but I'm getting fed up with young Sebastian's moods, he got very angry when he couldn't play swingball earlier on and insisted on slamming the racket down in the style of John McEnroe. Eleanor later took him to the woods which allowed me enough time to clean the bathroom with meticulous precision - I find a toothbrush is the best instrument for such a job.

Roger's Relics

Less than an hour after I'd left a message on Roger Reynolds' answerphone on Saturday evening I received a call from him asking to meet me on Sunday afternoon which I duly did. After letting Eleanor know his address and telephone number for safety I met him at the closed shop. It's a strange place filled with second hand treasures from a number of periods plus a large clothing section.

Roger himself was a large, portly gentleman wearing a mustard coloured safari jacket and slightly mis-matched pair of lovat cords. He sported a rather obvious ginger wig on his hair which I'm sure would have moved if I'd offered it a saucer of milk. He was avuncular and jovial though and I was made to feel most welcome. Whilst he was brewing up a 'proper' cup of tea using tea leaves, a china tea service and a plate of garibaldi biscuits he started to tell me a little about himself.

Apparently he was a widower, his wife Sylvie having died a year ago of a terminal case of Scrofula which Queen Elizabeth II refused to lower herself to cure. He'd had a varied career, having served in the SAS for many years with distinction which led to him receiving a vast array of medals which were unfortunately stolen by a visiting vagabond back in 1987. This than led to him starting his first business which was a travelling burger van which failed when his wig fell into a vat of candyfloss and scared the Mayor during a school fete. His second business as an independent slacks salesman also ground to a halt during the nationwide polyester famine of 1998. He mentioned a series of other businesses but I'd lost the will to live by then and feigned interest in the collection of spoons which filled one of the walls.

The upshot is that Roger showed me the flat which was part-furnished, airy and light and at £500pcm an absolute steal. I provisionally accepted which gave Roger time to draw up a formal contract and check out my references (Eleanor and James Pincett, my head of Division). I also stated I'd be happy to help out in the shop, where needed as I had absolutely no social life to speak of and enjoyed the company of the general public.

New Beginning (Mumba Senya - sic)

Well, my relationship with Wilf is finally over, the Weaver family residence is crumbling into the ground with a bad case of subsidence so it's time to firm up the old upper lip and get on with it. The first thing I did was to find alternative accommodatation, living with cousin Eleanor's all very well but Sebastian's an annoying wake up call every morning at 6am and I'm heartily sick of watching CBeebies on a loop - how she deals with the tedium of motherhood is beyond me!

I moseyed down to the local shops which surround the station to look at the small ads outside the newsagent and what did I spy: well this:

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Wanted: Professional (NO DHSS!) tenant for one bedroomed flat above 'Roger's Relics' - a second hand shop with distinction.

Rent: £500pcm which includes some shifts in the shop (Saturday, late night Thursday)

References required, please apply to Mr Roger Reynolds, 4 Station Parade, Surburbia, SB2 8UQ, telephone 020 8433 4598 (answerphone)

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Readers - I called him and left a message - I'll keep you informed!

Chez Eleanor

I'm still staying with Eleanor, she's a treasure during such a difficult time, despite bunging up her Dyson with a large sock earlier rendering it useless for cleaning. I have made a decision: I'll return to work tomorrow, there's no point mooning about, life goes on and there's plenty to be done. Wilf visited earlier - he's very sweet and explained that Mr A's parents could claim some of the money they paid out for the memorial service back against the cost of his funeral, it's a bit like a 'buy one memorial service, get a funeral half price' wierd, but true. Mr A senior worked for one of the large insurance firms for many years and is an expert in such matters.

I heard from Father, apparently the house subsidence is getting worse and it looks as if we'll all be forced to move out soon. Apparently he can't help being a human earthworm and has formed his own online support group 'HumanEarthwormsAnon' with inclusive 12-step programme. So far he's attracted 56 hits and one request for membership. He's thinking ahead and plans to hold an awayday in a large vivarium in Swindon but I said that he'd have to think about the practical aspects first, especially as earthworms tend to be hermaphrodites, which could compromise the toilet arranagements somewhat.

Cotton Cellular Pants

House update: more cracks have appeared, it's being jacked up as I type. I'm still looking to move out when I can find suitable alternative accommodation.

Mr A/X update: I tried telephoning him the other day, here's what happened:

Butler: "Good afternoon, Prentiss Mansions, Rosebury speaking."
Me: "Erm, good afternoon, may I speak with Mr A please?"
Butler: "I'm sorry Madam but the gentleman concerned is otherwise engaged on important top secret Government business abroad."
Me: "Right, it can't be that secret then if you're conveying such a message?"
Butler: "Correct Madam but maybe I'm issuing a double bluff."
Me: "Yes indeed, thank you and goodbye."

Work update: I move to the London HQ of the Department for Administrative Affairs (DAA)on Monday morning. Wish me luck!