| Major (Blast-it-to-Smithereens) Smythe-Blunder | | Print | |
You jonnies at Slow Down Now are spot on! Daphne, me daughter, tells me I’m already slow. It’s a kind thing for a gel to say. This week, took time off from writing me biography of Uncle General Blunder and his part in the Afghanistan Campaign of 1897. Some say we made rather a mess of things there, but none of it was me uncle’s fault.
Since me wife went AWOL with the bullfighter chap, I moved in here with Barkington-Pips, and Daphne: that’s Daphne Smythe-Blunder-Barkington-Pips. How these modern gels like to keep their father’s name. It’s quite charming.
Ah, yes, Slow Down Week. Well, rather than write all about it, I’ll just give you an excerpt from me diary. Here is last Friday:
06:00 Get up as usual.
06:15 Have cup of tea and realise it’s Slow Down Week. Go back to bed. Start day off with nap, just the ticket!
08:00 Daphne bangs on door to see if her dad is still alive. He is. Had a strange dream I was addressing the troops. I’m wearing a tutu and they are all dressed as chickens. Odd, don’t usually have dreams. Look for glasses.
08:30 Found glasses, but not before knocking over false teeth in glass on bedside table.
09:00 Daphne concerned I’m ill. But makes hearty breakfast with kidneys (my favourite) with lashings of tea.
09:45 Read Slow Down Week instruction manual and take bath. Sergeant Quack-Quack, or duck number two, develops a malfunction and sinks. Hum the Last Post as he goes down: all very proper.
10:30 Geranium inspection in the greenhouse. All present and correct. Get nasty attack from standing on booby-trapped rake. Rather bruised. Probably left there by little Cassandra Smythe-Blunder-Barkington-Pips. She is a born warrior.
11:00 In the bath again. Better for bruises. Read in paper about new study on relaxons. Apparently particles in air can make personnel more relaxed and have a sense of wellbeing. Thought this was all military hush-hush. Slow Down Week headline news of course.
12:30 Eric (Mad-Dog) Madden tells me over lunch, he got back from America yesterday. Mad-Dog had borrowed a car but didn’t understand that the Yanks drive on the other side of the road. Mad-Dog can be blind as a bat sometimes. Anyway, he pranged the borrowed machine. They are very advanced over there in America. The garage where repairs were being affected had installed a series of bathtubs at the rear of the premises. Mad-Dog lounged largely in the tub, and they brought him tea. I don’t see why they can’t do that sort of thing over here. No wonder we lost the American War.
15:00 Just walked back from the pub. Had rather too much Newcastle Brown Ale. The policeman was understanding about the urinating in public incident. The police are a decent bunch of chaps.
16:00 Must have dozed off. Daphne, sweet girl, brings me a cuppa and a jam tart.
16:30 Work on me book “Tank Battles for Tots” but must be aware of the time. Don’t want to miss the cricket from Australia.
18:40 Daphne wakes me up. Missed cricket. Have supper and do football pools.
19:30 Have another bath, this time with me pipe. Sad about duck number two. Duck number one lonely.
21:00 Turn in early with me new issue of “Big Girls of the British Army.”
Major (Blast-it-to-Smithereens) Smythe-Blunder Bensingford-on-the-Mold
|