At last Martin's talking to me. Have had to promise to never set up a surprise dinner again, or make him sit through a meal with people he can't stand and who smell strange. Thought that was a bit much, I was only trying to cheer him up. Anyway, I'm far to busy baking cakes for the bank holiday fete. Mrs Giles, who runs the W.I asked if I could help out with baking as the quality of this year's volunteers are decidedly dodgy. Although she's asked me to be discreet about it - of course.
Bumped into Lucy and her mother yesterday at the Vet's. She looked ever so tearful (the mother), and it has to be said, it looked like the dog was decidedly fat. Wonder if they're not walking it enough.
Linda's back from holiday, Barbados I think. I hadn't spoken to her in ages, as quite honestly I can't stand her, but they appeared on our doorstep last night with a bottle of Turbo Torres and a load of photo's. Before I could think of any excuse as to why they couldn't come in, Lionel had lead them into the lounge and had the glasses out quicker then you could say "knickers".
Wish he hadn't...........................
Turns out the holiday was a prezzie from their Jackie, because she's done so well at work - Well she would! She's got her knockers out and her knickers round her ankles and shagging her boss.
Anyway it turns out Jackie and Gerald are getting married (once his divorce comes through - that'll be expensive as he's got 3 kids, all in private school).
Hope they don't ask me to do the cake. I don't think I could stand the pressure.
