A Parish Tour

Once the dishes were done (and CMC had left for her piano lesson / badminton / meeting with Big Slugger) I set out on my tour of the Parish.  My first call was at the Kirk café; updates with Geordie and Rosie, and an intervention by Liz.  It was minuted that Muckle Hector was absent again.  I then walked around to leave two bottles of whisky at the home of the analytical chemist of the Parish Whisky Club.  I was surprised his wife was in; she wasn’t surprised by the whisky.  On the homeward leg I received a text from Desmond indicating that his reconciliation with Blanche has foundered.  Apparently she was as mad as hell to find out he had come in from the bar, in a very drunken haze, but felt peckish.  He made the mistake of trying to grill her panty girdle.  I don’t think she’ll ever forgive him.  The next day, once sobered up, she threw him out and he left in a stiff tail wind in his Vauxhall Viagra.  It all happens on a Thursday.  A further text from Lulu Macduff indicates that Chingford is empty, and her attempted comeback with a unicyclist – stroke - ventriloquist has come to nothing.
 
Celia Imrie is 73