Hello dear..who won the rugby?

Said the Ernie Wise lookalike...

Before I put down his sliced turkey and apricot crumble I said....The Kiwis...20 - 6.

Thank you dear...

I left feeling sad but happy. Here was this small elderly lonely man in a bright blue jumper and grey stained trousers standing in a mess of a room wondering not about his lunch but about the rugby. Kind of made me feel hopeful for all mankind because living alone amongst bad/sad ornaments and even worse smells, hadn't killed off his interests.

I have to admit to feeling a bit lost in and around the environs of Leigh on Sea but with a nice laminated map and bag of mint humbugs I should, when on my own, get along alright.
The route, by the way is massive with more than twenty three houses to call upon, and all with inadequate parking of course but I'm not a giver-upper so I'll continue to park on verges.
The time thing is a concern though, because the meals need to be checked for heatness every few houses and this of course holds one up, but I have a good thermometer and anti-bacterial wipes so that's nice. Gloves. White and woolly are the order of the day. One kiss from them containers and you've got yourself a decent blister. What else....The Car. The car so small it looks like a likkle bootie. So excellent though for getting out of tight spots and so funny with me in the driving seat with the window wound down giving thumbs up to white van man for letting the little lady out:)
Talking of Men...
Kevin tries to be funny and informative but his limited vocabulary and lack of creativity makes for a boring journey, I know he means well but I wish he'd be more professional and optimistic, I really don't need to be told that I'm making a couple of errors. I know that mate...And words my dear Kev, wound. Especially one so sensitive as I. So shut up will ya?
Having lambasted him I don't suppose I can expect much from a single man whose a bit deaf in his right ear (was a train driver) and whose Mother has cancer. He did though, after today's run out, show a softer side by giving me a taste of an 'unwanted' apple crumble and custard. "Here" he said with the merest hint of a smile "Here have a spoonful of this". And so as I stood outside the sunlit W.R.V.S office the baggy faced giant fed me.

Anyway the past two days have had me sweating, laughing about heated containers, and getting to know other worthy sorts. They come in all shapes and sizes but only one colour, at this juncture I must mention Carol the Re-Heater...A more miserable sour faced woman I've yet to see.
She defrosts the dinners and puds and heats them up in giant ovens ready to be boxed and delivered. She is NOT my idea of a cheery kitchen person, not a smile or hello or even an expletive as another faggot gets scorched. No, a real non-kitchen person.
The place is teeming with bigger ladies and they all seem alright to me, lots of gold, chat and belly laughs. Yes, defo my type:)
I don't know whether I'll stay but this weekend has been ok...How I'll fare in the coming weeks is unknown, probably get in a tizz and run away, but until then I'll enjoy the ride and custard.