It’s a funny old world.
Very drole indeed. HaHaHaHa.
I haven’t entered into very much correspondence with my blog over the last few days.
No time. No time to say hello goodbye.
Working backwards from today. Honed and polished writing about Fry and Form.
Spent too long at the building site that is my house, trying to referee between the plasterer and the spark, before the War of the Claw Hammer happened all over my devastated parquet flooring. Continued my role as United Nations Ambassador to Builders as the Chippie gave me a 35 minute rundown of what was wrong with the newly delivered staircase, and how long it was going to take him, ie. how much it was going to cost me to put it right.
The carpenter/joiner/chippie intrigues me. His entire outlook is negative. From his gloomy, grumpy face in repose, to his stooped shoulders and monotone monologues.
He greets me every day with – do you want the bad news or the really bad news?
But. But, in his spare time, when he isn’t in training for the Moaning Olympics, the joiner is a DJ and Children’s Party Entertainer.
He is a cross between the Child Catcher in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and Eeyore.
But he says he’s fully booked until next year…. caveat emptor.
Then it was over to Donna in Northern Moor.
My hair – desperate – and Donna does what Donna does best. I am now starting to believe that her Hair Salon is actually a drop in centre for either the Homeless of South Manchester or the local Care in the Community loners.
Tales of Hen Party stiletto fights and her drunken father’s brawls kept the gallery entertained all morning.
I asked her about wedding hair.
Back to yesterday. Sunday and it starts to sink in. The black pearl ring lit by a dazzle of diamonds is there to remind me.
Back to Saturday. My mum asks Eli – are you sure? My dad bursts into tears.
Back to Friday. Charles tells me he is chuffed I am no longer on the shelf.
Back to Friday morning.
Eli asks me to marry him. Would you, would you? He says Dutchly.
Will you, will you dontcha mean – I say stunned.