Match Maker

Hello. It’s me, Sylvie.

I warned you about Joyce, didn’t I? Now you know what I have to put up with!

She was two hours late this morning and all of a fluster, her cat had a panic attack when a pigeon crashed into bay window. Bella had got her head trapped in venetian blinds, so Joyce took her t' vets and they said she was just a bit dizzy.

I said to Joyce, ‘Are you sure they didn’t mean you?’. She gave me one of her looks and pretended to tidy up Toffee Crisps.

Well, you know all about her family after reading that little epic last week, it was like an episode of Twin Peaks, and I made neither head nor tail of that when it were on tele.

Her Sidney’s a nice enough chap but a bit of a girl’s blouse, always fussing over nowt. By all accounts, he were wearing a string of pearls to school by the time he were twelve, he didn’t make friends easily.

I’d still love my Clint, even if he did sit on other side of church. I’d try and set him up with that nice Paul O’Grady.

Did you see him interviewed on TV last Friday? Even Clint said he’s a handsome fella with his three-piece suit. Aye, aye, I thought!

We’ve got a lovely homosexual couple along balcony. They’ve always got clean nets and go at it with the bleach every Saturday. Clint laid their kitchen lino last week, it looks like wooden flooring.

They’re dead modern and they’ve draped fairy lights over their pelmet and it’s not even Christmas! It’s another world, it is really.

Anyway, I expect you’ve been dying to know about the wine and cheese do. What a shambles! The buffet consisted of Philadelphia on Ritz crackers, which were well past their sell-by date, and we drank warm Blue Nun from polystyrene cups.

I stuck with the Quavers and didn’t go near the dips. Molly Chadwick’s never been much of a hostess. French Fancies on plastic doilies are more her stride.

And I had to wear a name badge which played havoc with my shrug. Despite all that, I got chatting to a nice chap called Percy who was hovering over Black Forest while waiting for it to thaw.

He’s a retired roofer and collects matchboxes. Mind you, he has a distinct whiff of sulphar about him but he was the only man there who had any grasp of bladder control.

Percy’s a widower from Bury. His lost his wife three years ago when she was struck by lightening while bringing in washing. Her own fault really, those metal curlers went out years ago.

If she’d have worn sponge, she’d still be here today.

Any road up, he phoned at weekend and invited me to t’ Harvester tomorrow as he’s got a two for one voucher for the Earlybird special. He could be a bit of a tight wad but we’ll suck it and see.

Molly thinks he’s a gigolo because he’s signed with two other agencies. He wrote on his profile, ‘Just because there’s snow on the roof, it doesn’t mean the fire’s gone out’.

That put me off him a bit.

I feel a bit strange going on a date, if I’m honest. It’s my wedding anniversary on Sunday and Eric always took me to Bellavista in Rochdale. It’s dead posh with white tablecloths and wicker baskets. We’d order Champagne and get bladdered, just like on our wedding day.

We’d have our pudding and then he’d pass us a small gift box which contained a new charm for my bracelet. The last one was a rotating heart which says ‘I Love You’, it’s my favourite one but there was no room for any more charms after that.

I only wear the bracelet on special occasions as it’s too jangly and always snags my tights. I shan’t be wearing it tomorrow night. Not at Harvester.

Anyway, I’ll not hold out much hope about this one, especially if Percy starts banging on about his matchboxes again. He’s after Japanese ones now and asked if I’d go on auction sites while I’m in class, cheeky bugger.

We’ve got a new teacher here at the centre, he’s called Lester and he’s got a gold tooth and rides a bicycle. His right hand has long nails because he plays guitar, so that’s nice, int it?

Ivy won’t be back this term, she rushed home from class last week and the dopey mare grabbed the casserole pot with bare hands. She’s up on Ghandhi ward with giant mittens.

She didn’t meet anyone at wine and cheese do which it’s just as well, really. She’s not had a good year, love her.

I popped up to her this dinnertime with a copy of TV Quick and had to read all the blooming listings to her, I shan’t be doing that again in a hurry. I kept hoping she’d nod off.

I watched Strictly Ballroom Dancing at the weekend. I didn’t know it were on both nights, what a treat. I quite fancy that judge, Len Goodman. He’s a right charmer, he can dip me anytime!

Me and Clint bet a fiver on who’ll win. I bet on that Andrew from GMTV but I’m not so sure now, he looked a bit simple on dance floor. Clint bet on Phil Daniels but he’s already lost!

Mind you, I thought that TV cook should have gone, I’ve got more rhythm in my little finger, and I probably make a better Shepherd’s Pie.

Mandy just sulked while it were on. She’s a bit needy and doesn’t like sharing Clint’s attention with others, especially with lasses in sequin body stockings. She gets on my wick at times.

Me and Eric could cut a rug in our day, we’d get dolled up and go dancing every Saturday night when we were younger. I couldn’t do it now, not with my knees.

Clint’s also watching X Factor but I can’t be doing with that, I’ve heard better down Gold Rush club. He went with Argos Alan to auditions at Old Trafford earlier this year, but they couldn’t be arsed to queue for registration.

They’d been practising ‘Wake me up before you go-go’ all day before, so that was a waste of time. The pair of clowns want to apply to Big Brother next year, you have to laugh.

Well, I seem to be getting on okay with computer class, though this keyboard is ruining my new nails. Lester is teaching us hyperlinks this evening. He asked if we’d heard of them and I put up my hand and said me and Eric used to shop at the one in Calais.

Oh, I did feel a fool when he explained what it was and the whole class burst out laughing. I wasn’t best pleased.

Though, I don’t know why Renee Braithwaite was laughing so much, when Lester asked who had Windows XP at home, she bragged she had PVC ones round at hers. Daft old bat.

Joyce is boasting to anyone who’ll listen that she’s better than me with this computer lark because she can use an electric typewriter. I don’t know who she’s kidding when she can’t even set video. I’ve got Sky Plus but she’s not as with it as me.

Anyway, I’ll love you and leave you. Joyce is on next time which means she’ll be wittering on about her tarts at drama group. It’s riveting.

Before I finish up, I have to put in a hyperlink, so bear with me. I was looking at websites earlier and I’ve chosen one for you.

There you go. AVON

Oh no, that’s not right at all, it’s supposed to change colour.

Hold up, I’ll have another crack at it.

AVON

By heck, it’s a fiddly business, is this.

Make any Avon orders through me and not Joyce because she won’t have a clue. I recommend the Aloe Vera cream, it brings up my horse brass a treat, does that.

I’d better get my skates on, I’m the last one left and Lester’s looking daggers.

I hope he hasn’t got a casserole on the go.

Cheerio for now, love from Sylvie x