dulwichmum

I spoke to a gentleman last summer at the Dulwich fair thingy in the park, and he told me that the favourite food of the London fox is jam sandwiches! Apparently they have a very sweet tooth. This chap was from a special fox appreciation society and advised me to use Saldane or something that sounded like that - to get rid of the fox from our garden - who was keeping us awake at night howling. It worked, but it smells dreadful. Apparently a fox will have a route that he will stick to and follow nightly for years, and if your garden is a favourite spot for a dig, on this route it will continue for years unless you do something about it. Perhaps we should rent some horses (not from that dreadful stables in the park - they use those poor beasts to pull those creepy herse thingys at funerals) and start ourselves a Dulwich Hunt. We could meet up in the park on brisk winter mornings - perhaps by the coffee shop. Have a couple of toddys, and then chase Mr Mightyroar's fox all through the landscaped gardents (back and front) throughout Dulwich on horseback. Instead of attacking the poor fox with dogs, we could get Mr Batdog to coax him into a special fox carrying box, and have him released into the countryside. What say you neighbours? I am sure we could get ourselves some great outfits in Lilywhites!

Can Freya play the triangle? It is so important for her social development that she feels she has something to contribute.

Blackberry makes a ringing sound on the floor beside the juke box...

Apologises, backs towards door, explains - 'Max has a bassoon lesson in ten minutes' - dashes to the changing room.

Stands up, smiles at boys playing pool, pours large glass of iced water, leans on juke box, toys with enormous solitaire diamond hanging on platinum chain around neck. Selects 'In the Summer time' by Mongo Jerry..........

Stands up, has a little stretch(ette) takes enormous handbag to changing cubicle and emerges in stunning white Calvin Klein bikini and sarong..... admires spray tan in full length mirror, walks to sun lounger by pool placing enormous white rimed sunglasses in hair. Decides not to bother with a swim as it makes hair frizz, and instead pads off to Rancho Relaxo for a cold drink with chums (still not drinking alcohol for Lent).

Arrives just as food is finished, laiden down with a half dozen Grande Latte's, and large bag of Starbucks Blueberry cheesecake. Ana walks behind carrying enormous handbag. Sits in aubergine velvet armchair next to Ant, while Ana distributes goodies (to Mr Capt Birdseye, Mr CrystalClear, Ant, Mark, Keef) and leaves. Smiles contentedly to self, picks up plate and fork.......

And can climb out of the tank to do it!

Clearly, Mr Keef!

Mr Batdog, At last, I am a happy girl once more!

Darling Mr Batdog, You have returned! I am overjoyed, I feel like hanging out the flags, I have been lost without you dear.......dog!

I think that we will have a highly individual sound, and are bound to be imminantly snapped up by some agent or another! I hope the fame does not go to Ana's (au pair) head, and encourage her to leave my employ. Max is so young for such fame, but hey, he would cope I am sure.

Stands up, has a little stretch(ette). Puts magazine back on rack - sneaks home out of room and into the night to find enormous four wheel drive vehicle.

Wakes up with a start. Notices crumbs of pink wafer on the floor. Thinks to self 'I must get rid of that pink wafer from my handbag that Batdog was sitting his bottom on'.

Dear Keef, The harpsichord indeed it is for me. Little Max can play his specially made tiny bassoon with the big buttons (for his chubby little fingers) and Ana the au pair can be lead vocals! Hurrah.

Dear Mr Ant and Mr Mockney, This is the type of conversation I love, 'offtopicating'. Well articulated!

Au pair 'Ana' arrives with tray of four Starbucks for coffee (I sent a text request to her earlier). Vente Latte's dispensed also to chums Mr Keef, Mr Mockney and Mr CrystalClear. Settles back into large purple velvet armchair with a copy of Elle deco. Smiles contentedly to self, slips off shoes.

-- moved topic --

Yes, I know what you mean. The Dulwichmums were out in force in the park today. At one point I was completely surrounded by little 'Ceciley's'. It was like an advertisement for the Boden catalogue.

Thank you Ant and Ko. James is Welsh, so I dount he would celebrate if anyone other than the Welsh ever won the rugby. I think he is not home yet because the beer is free.

Dear Mr Ant, You are thinking of a nappy changing bag - mine certainly is not. It is an enormous 'trophy' bag - containing nothing but my Blackberry and my purse. I am so predictably pretentious!

Dear Mr Ant, He was in a box or some kind of corporate area, with a reserved seat and free alcohol, so no reason to get there early as far as I can see. He is not home yet either, who won - does anyone know?

Dear Ant, I was looking stunning today (for a woman of my age). You do not need a photo to identify me in the park sweetie, I always carry my enormous handbag. You can spot me a mile off!

Mr Ant, No, I am still here. I have no social life, and am officially a (sob) 'rugby widow', although quite why he had to leave the house at 10.00 am this morning for a match that didn't kick off until 3.00 pm didn't really make sense to me. Being a trophy wife is not all it is cracked up to be. The most excitement I have had all day was cleaning my diamonds in a big glass of Gordons Gin!

If only there was a Starbucks on Lordship Lane!