Saturday, October 28, 2006

Toast, marmite and a lovely cup of tea

MY reference to Kempy and Coggsy's forthcoming marriage may have seemed tongue in cheek, but I am speaking from experience. I accidentally got engaged once, you see. Yes, it sounds ridiculous, but sadly it's true.
At the time I was cohabiting with my ex-girlfriend The Tea Lady. The Tea Lady is the only person I have ever known who could turn up at a Welsh pub before a rugby international and inquire if she could have a lovely cup of tea. Imagine, if you can, the reaction of Blodwyn or Iolo, who were serving in the crowded bar. "Cup of teeee? Sure you don't want a vodka in that?"
The Tea Lady also had this little round silver ball she carried with her in which to put her tea leaves - I think it was called an infusion ball or something. Sane girlfriends, you may have gathered, have been thin on the ground in my life.
Anyway, one weekend we were staying at my Dad's. At some point he entered the room. "I've got something for you," he announced. He came over to me and put a little band of gold into my hand. "It's your mother's engaged ring. I'm sure she would want you to have it."
I was delighted that he entrusted me with this valuable family heirloom. But no sooner had he left the room than The Tea Lady came nosing around.
"What was that about?" she asked.
I just opened my hand and showed her the gold engagement ring.
"Oh God, oh lord, I don't know what to say. This is fantastic," she shouted, leaping around the room.
Before long she had been on the phone to anyone and everyone, imparting the news far and wide that we were, in fact, inextricably linked.
I didn't have the heart to tell her it was all a big mistake.

Sweater-Gate, the sequel.
Withers has now taken to wearing a tank top in the style of Rigsby, Leonard Rossiter's seedy landlord character in the old sitcom Rising Damp. He insists its trendy. It's not unless you are an old university professor and can wear it with an accompanying corduroy jacket adorned with leather elbow patches.
Meantime, WoS is obviously running its own out-of-hours Ninja classes to rival the army manoeuvres carried out by Rosey, Becks and Co. Marc and The Voice turned up in The Yard dressed head to toe in black. The Voice even had his black top zippered up to the bottom lip so that he can blend into the background on the streets of Newport. Not sure which one was carrying The Milk Tray.

Went to bed with some Toast and marmite at 9.30, set the alarm and woke at 1.30 this morning to watch the St Louis Cardinals secure the Baseball World Series with a 4-2 win over the Detroit Tigers. Hardly a classic but at least I can get some decent sleep now.

No comments: