“When Did You Last Cook Me A Meal?” Lost Going To Specsavers, and Chancing You Arm where the Sun Doesn’t Shine.

Yep that’s a politician for you never miss a photo opportunity. There we were parked outside the house with the Sainsbury’s Bags ( the Sainted One Had come, because of my cracked rib). The mood suddenly turned ugly and he was leaning over the car addressing the neighbours, arms out spread like the sermon on the mount …. And then the fateful words “ all this food and when did you last cook me a meal?” OMG moi,, who is not only known, but greatly admired for my sweet gentle nature exploded. The invective was Oscar level, several young mothers sent their children hurriedly inside with rugs on their heads. My friend Elvira complimented me “I never knew you had it in girl I am proud of you” she applauded. When we got inside I grabbed my diary, in which the menus are written on a daily basis. This was ignored so moi, understandably, hurled it at his stomach, where all this delicious hard laboured food ends up each day, including home made porridge each morning with brown sugar and a dab of cream and a delicate cup of tea, to the bedside. “ the next meal can go ………” I suggested

Today there was silence …… but a grim face emerged from the man cave, “When you attacked me with your diary you broke my glasses, I am off to Specksavers in Oxford Street to have them repaired ,” “Oh Yeh” I said in a gentle soft voice ,” so where exactly do you keep your glasses?” I asked . He was out for four hours because he got lost. Now hear yee people of Clapham and everywhere that is a parable of a story think about it Politicians they are all the same. No more porridge mate!!!!!

The Nipote has come back to live here for a bit, it is totally fabulous tonight he mad a risotto, this meant time to get back to the thorny question as to whether Sir Hartley Shagwell used a sedan chair or a carriage to attend a court soiree at Kensington palace in 1741. I am leaning to wards the carriage its quite a hoof from Mayfair.

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