Showing posts with label Rayleigh Operatic and Dramatic Society. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rayleigh Operatic and Dramatic Society. Show all posts

Thursday, 18 June 2009

Horses For Courses


London was cool.

Dad did somersaults over the trifle. Not literally you understand, that would be impossible with his legs. Mum liked the few bits and bobs I'd got for her, especially the plastic flowers in the tea cup. Loved that.
After a decent shop, where I bought a lovely sweet skirt which whipped me back to the halcyon days of my youth, the dream confection is a viscose patchwork affair in subtle colours of blue, eau de nil and pink and dusts my ankles in a gay, gypsy manner.

We watched the first day of Royal Ascot where the other Queen turned up in her carriage and the annoyingly out-of-place Suzi Perry spoke about the fashions. Ms Perry had a camp male chum by her side to help out with the ooohs and aahs of the fashion faux pas and fashion triumphs. His quips were straight to the point and I liked the way he walked. So thumbs up for him. But thumbs down to the 'Gadget Show' bird in the silly hat.

Now what Royal Ascot is all about.
Gambling.
Dad had the first winner and celebrated with a dollop of trifle but as the afternoon went on only managed to bag two further places, so he sulked a bit, screwed up his betting slips, and like all sensible gamblers looked forward to the next day.

So I had a jolly good time with my most favourite people on earth and in my creaking wisdom decided to stay a tad longer than I normaly do. Consequently I limped into my bungalow way after 8 p.m. I'm still recovering...

Yesterday was spent at Henry's palace where I did my Housekeeping duties with a huge knee and after leaving him a gentle note about; The importance of colour swatches, the necessity for a hearth rug, large petaled artificial flowers and what I'd accomplished on the table in his bedroom. I haven't heard from him since...

Today.

Today is shopping day but before I go to The Factory Shop for suet slabs, Lidle for a jar of cherries and Sainsbury's for everything else I'll do a detour to the charity shop and drop a piece of chocolate cake into Joan's hands.


Big questions of the day.
What'll I wear?
Shall I join the Rayleigh Operatic and Dramatic Society?
What can I do about my knees?

I have been given a pretty blue parasol for my garden table (thanks Rockman) and so after a tuna sandwich will swing it around above my head.


*Pic is of dad larking about with a waxy Benny Hill.