I was settling down on the sofa to watch Bargain Hunt when there was a knock at the door. Shuffling across the floor in my slippers I spied a bulky figure outside which transpired to be my landlord, the downstairs cafe owner, Mr Osmond. The conversation went as thus:
Mr Osmond (MO): "Good afternoon Miss Weaver, I have been instructed by my solicitor to hand you this
[Osmond hands me an official looking document]
MO: It's an eviction notice Miss Weaver. As you may be aware, The Ravey Gravy Cafe isn't doing as well as it could be in the current climate and I'm planning a new business venture which will encompass the current cafe premises in addition to both of the upstairs flats.
Me: Right - so what are you planning to do?
MO: I've often thought that what this immediate area needs is a day spa - I see thousands of weary commuters emerge from the station each day and wonder whether I could tap into their business needs by offering relaxing massages, steam treatments and pedicures?
Me: Don't you need a special licence for that kind of business?
MO: Yes indeed, but Councillor Parker is a very amenable man, especially after I hosted last year's Mayor's Charity Pie Eating Competition.
Me: What else can I say? When do I have to leave the flat?
MO: Thirty days from the date of receipt of the letter, which was yesterday - so Saturday, 16th January 2016. Have you anywhere to move to?
Me: Not that you care, but yes, my father and aunt live nearby, if I could persuade my aunt to move her cat cave out of the small bedroom then I could go there for a while?
MO: That's great news Miss Weaver. To compensate you for your troubles I can offer you a voucher for a free pie and chips for two patrons during the month of December. My seasonal turkey, pea and sprout pie is going down very well with the local building community.
Me: I bet it is. Thank you - there's nothing much else I can say or do is there?
MO: Not really, I'm sorry to lose your custom Miss Weaver because you've always been a good, quiet and clean tenant, unlike your downstairs neighbour, Mr Saunderson, whose filthy abode is a disgrace to the block.
Me: Indeed, but Mr Saunderson's life has been a sad one since he was sacked from the Co-op for hitting one of his colleagues over the head with a frozen lamb chop.
MO: That is as may be Miss Weaver, but we're all put on this Earth for a reason; and hitting one's fellow man over the head with a frozen piece of meat isn't part of Our Lord's Greater Plan. Good day to you."
[MO exits, not followed by a bear]
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