Jump to content

Recommended Posts

I'll probably treat myself to a brick of coal around late October Ted. I can lend you a candle if you're feeling a bit nippy round Christmas if you're, you know, a bit short of funds.


The pocket book does seem a little slim this year, BBW. I'm well off for candles though, having been left half a gross by Mrs Marjoribanks next door when she emigrated to the far dominions in 1976.


A couple of whisky macs ready behind the bar at the Prince Albert would be a warming thought, however.

Ted.


The thought of sharing a tumbler or two of single malt with yourself would indeed be a warming occasion. Although I don't think I'd be comfortable with you pocketing all the cutlery and condiments from the knife and fork table.


Though I'd be happy to help you tear the pay-phone from it's mount to ease the burden on your wallet.

I suppose under the 30 year rule I can now point out that, far from emigrating, it turned out that Mrs Marjoribanks had in fact been in the throes of an intoxicating two month fling with the head waiter at the Far Dominions curry house on the Goldhawk Road.


When she returned Geoff, her husband, had piled all her belongings in the middle of the street. I helped myself to the candles and her Georgette Heyer collection.

She lives in Odiham now, with the ex-head of the local Parish council. The head waiter of the Far Dominions has a small chain of mobile phone retail outlets in the Market Harborough area. His son is studying PPE at Oxford.


Geoff can be found occasionally enjoying a hot chocolate at quiet times outside Melange, his teeth proudly on the table before him.


I've never told him about the candles.

  • 1 month later...

... so set em up Joe...


It's a northern European thing, though. The heartfelt need for the familial bed, the comfort of wood smoke curling round a blackened ceiling, the slowing of the metabolism, the mouth slaked with ethanol and animal fats.


I think it's against my human rights to expect me to do any work at this time of year.

Good point.


So - new EC Working Time Directive (Northern Branch).


Working months:

May

Some of September and October.


June-August: - To be spent outside restoring Vitamin D and mental health levels.


November: to be spent fattening up for the Great Hibernation.


December-April: Rest, continuation of rich oral literary tradition, strong drink to be taken.

  • 1 month later...

Day 44:


By the stars, but hibernation is boring. Especially as it turns out our tribe's rich tradition of oral narrative extends to just one particularly unlikely creation myth involving the magical arrival of the First Clansman from inside a washed up whale on the Great East Beachhead, and his subsequent copulations with a convenient host of willing sealmaidens.


I'm afraid hearing Grunewald the Elder crank up the roll-call of our 4,000-year Seal Clan lineage for the thirteenth time was too much for Iolanthe, and she left the cave shortly after the Feast of the Final Mussel to try her luck in the Great Other. She took the last of the razor clam jus with her as well, so we're on freeze-dried seaweed till the spring now.


Tamara has a severe cough, caused by the six weeks of unescaped smoke that has built up inside the cave. We medicate her with fresh condensings from the still, but the potion is raw and causes temporary blindness so she is covered in bruises from constantly walking into the cave walls. If this keeps up I'm afraid she is unlikely to be elected as the Maid of the Cave on Fire Night, but I haven't had the heart to break that to her yet.


Also, I'm afraid my sealskin undercrackers are beginning to chafe where they've got a bit clogged. Isolde said I should rub some gannet bile onto the affected parts, but I'm not convinced.

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now
  • Latest Discussions

    • My memory, admittedly not very reliable these days, places the shop on the block on the left hand side just before Burgess Park going towards Camberwell. Have also found a reference to Franklins Antiques being located at 157 Camberwell Road which is on that block. This is a screen shot obtained from Google maps of that address which accords with my memory except the entrance door was on the right hand side, where the grey door is, rather than in the centre.
    • The MFI was probably where Iceland is now. This post makes me feel very old - went to a 30th birthday party in the garden at the back. Oh to be 30 again! 
    • Anyone upgraded their TV for Christmas?! I'm looking for a smallish Smart TV I can use with earbuds. Not more than 56cm high and  25cm deep. A 26" one used to fit.  Thanks!
    • It wasn't an antique and bric-a-bac shop but an antique market with a number of different traders, the cafe supported all the dealers in bringing in custom, and was good enough to generate trade for them. It was Rodney Franklin's and his partners enterprise, he previously had an antique shop in Queenstown Road in Battersea. His late wife ran the cafe (she was a very fine actress, it was a 'resting' job).  It was on the corner of a junction on the left as you head towards Camberwell. And almost opposite, if memory serves at all, an MFI style furniture outlet. 
Home
Events
Sign In

Sign In



Or sign in with one of these services

Search
×
    Search In
×
×
  • Create New...