MUCH
Blooming 'eck,she'll meet herself coming back one day. Just listen to 'er. 'I've just been off to the wedding, then I'm 'aving two days in London, I'm off to that Wales place to see the girl get a funny 'at.' All that moving about ain't natural. Why go anywhere? 'Er's got a nice 'ouse, a garden, even got a blooming great river, to say nothing of a wise old gnome with a snail. Well, we got loads o' them snails, but mine's the only stone one.
What it is, y'see, is that 'er knows 'er can rely on me. She might go running about the country, but me and my snail, we stay put and watch the garden for 'er. This rockery don't look after itself, y'know, and Stephen only come once a fortnight. And then 'e wants to fill up the spaces with greeny-yeller things and 'er wants white and mauve and pink. 'Er's always sneaking in another geranium and 'e keeps moving the ferns about.
'Er was in a grump today. Last thing at night, she said, she 'ad an idea for somebody to put in a book. But as it were a long way yon side of midnight she didn't write it down, and she's forgotten it already. So that's one less for the House of Stories, then.
Pity about that. 'Er memory must be rubbish. I can remember everything that's happened 'ere in this garden for decades, but nobody seems to want a book about watching a fern grow.
'Ere? 'Oo put that fern there?
2 comments:
Not to worry Much, Margi probably just flipped you around again when she went breezing by!
Blooming typical. It were quiet round 'ere before 'er lot turned up.
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