Stormy weather

Hello everybody.

Well, it’s been testing times as you’ve probably gathered but Sylvie’s weathering the storm and as much as she pushes me away at times, I’m watching over her and Clint. I took a Swiss Roll to his DJ booth today and I could see he’d been crying, he said The Carpenters always gets to him but I said nowt and took his empty plates and closed the door.

Sylvie has her good and bad days. On a good day, its like nothing has happened and she talks about Eric as if he were a saint. I don’t know what to make of her at times. On a bad day, I can’t do right for doing wrong but I put up and shut up. My neighbour the counsellor said that it’s like bereavement and she has to go through different stages.

Sylvie was in a foul mood this morning. She called me disrespectful and contemptible. I said ‘Don’t think I can’t read in-between those lines’. But I let it wash over me.

She occasionally takes my hand when things get really bad and she came over for her tea last week. Sidney laid on a nice gammon steak with pineapple rings, Green Giant sweetcorn and baby potatoes. He likes to add a bit of glamour to the plate, so he put a sprig of parsley on top. He’s artistic like that. I made a sherry trifle for afters, as a special treat.

Sidney’s applied to the ‘Come Dine With Me’ show on Channel 4. He wins £1000 if he gets the highest score at end of week, which I’m sure he would with his flair for home entertainment.

I had a visitor to the hospital shop t’ other day. Ted came in while I was putting a brew on! I almost died and hid under sink out back. Sylvie had been doing the TV Quick crossword (though, she really should pay for the magazine first) and hadn’t seen him.

I heard her shouting out ‘Ten across, victorious landlady of the east’ and I was trying to whisper ‘Peggy Mitchell’ so Ted couldn’t hear, and then she looked up and saw him stood at counter in his car coat and trilby hat.

He’d brought that Valerie Ashcroft into A&E, she’d had a run in with trouser press. He said he’d heard Sylvie’s bad news and offered his sympathies. What a hypocrite! After the way he treated me for years. I could tell he was winning her round; she gave him a Turkish Delight and a bottle of pop for nowt.

He asked after me but she said it was my day off and then he spotted my coat hanging up on door and skulked away. Sylvie said she felt sorry for him and that he’s lost a lot of weight.

He’s good at that puppy dog look, I told her not to be taken in. She said that he’s definitely not going with that Valerie as she’s always in Gold Rush club with every Tom, Dick and Harry but never with Ted. There are names for women like her. Sylvie will tell you.

I must confess to getting a bit teary after he left hospital foyer. Sylvie helped me out from under sink as I had a dead leg. It was her turn to look after me that afternoon but it took her mind off things. We’re a right pair!

I know she thinks I should meet up with Ted and talk but it’s very difficult. He’s still my husband and always will be but there’s too much water under bridge and we have nothing to say to one another. I don’t think we ever did.

He popped back home to see me a few weeks after he left to pick up the rest of his things and he said ‘I don’t want you to think you’re worthless’. ‘I never did’, I said and closed the door on our marriage.

Still, I’m not short of admirers. Wally Atkins from drama group complimented me on my pearl necklace t’ other day and Frank the security man is still trying to woo me, though I don’t see that as owt to boast about. His uniform has a right shine to it. I told him to stop ironing it, Mandy could put it through steam cleaner in laundry.

He tried to run after some kids who were stealing carnations from Tilly’s buckets. He couldn’t give chase though, not with his hip. Calls himself security? He couldn’t knock skin of a rice pudding.

Oh, and I was flashed at by a geriatric in a dressing gown last Wednesday, he came down just as I was closing shutters, so I refused to serve him. Where was Frank? Having a crafty roll up outside, that’s where. He shouldn’t be smoking, not with his asthma.

You’ll be pleased to know that Ivy has been discharged from hospital though she still has lumpy hands. She’s staying with her son Brian and his wife. He’s an Elvis impersonator and plumber. He wears a white cape with his overalls and big gold sunglasses. He can’t see a thing through them. He nearly flooded my kitchen in the summer but he eventually took them off to sort out my blockage.

As I said to Sidney, he’s as mad as a dog in a bungalow, that one.

Sylvie cheered up at lunchtime when Doctor Forbes bought a packet of Revels. He offered one to Sylvie but she said she was happy with her fat-free yoghurt and banana. What a fibber! I pointed out she had Chocolate Egg all down her cardigan. She didn’t talk to me after that, except when I asked if my teeth were red after sucking on a Fisherman’s Friend. ‘No, you’re alright’, she sniped, ‘They’re still yellow’. She can be very hurtful at times.

Lester has been teaching us how to spread sheets this evening. I must say, it looks very confusing. Sylvie won’t get the hang of this at all. He also taught us how to save pictures on computer and then make changes to them in the photo shop. Sidney will enjoy that. He has a laptop and keeps all kinds of things on there, though he doesn’t really like me to use it.

Argos Alan is going to get me and Sylvie our own computers after this course finishes. He said he’ll set us both up with an email account, I think it’s with ‘Cooee!’ I can’t really remember. It had a daft name whichever way you look at it.

Well, I better go as Lester is in a hurry to finish up, he’s playing in a Bob Marley tribute evening at the Gold Rush club, after Clint finishes up the Bingo. Lester played us one of Mr Marley’s tunes during tea-break. It was very catchy and I caught Dolly Hargreaves tapping her moon boot.

I looked up Bob Marley on t’ internet and thought I’d post his picture. Mind you, I can’t say I’m surprised the poor chap died young. Look at the size of his roll up!



I think I’ll tell Frank and see if it puts him off.

Speak again soon.

God bless, Joyce x

Wasted love

Hello there.

I wasn’t sure if I were going to come to class this evening as it’s been one hell of a week, the worst of my life.

I had to go to Scarborough last Monday to see Don about an insurance policy that I didn’t know existed. It turns out there were a mix up at t’ office.

As I walked in and saw Don’s face, I wondered what on earth had happened. I knew it were bad news as he got out a bottle of brandy from top filing drawer and two glasses which needed a good wipe, but I said nowt.

He told me the payout was for S.E Shuttleworth, which is my name, so now you know. Turns out it were for a Samuel Eric who’s coming up to his 18th birthday.

Samuel is Eric’s love-child.

Eric had been living a double life since 1988 with that Doreen Bradley after her husband got mowed down by a bus for the disabled in town centre.

Don said he knew about the affair and made it clear that he didn’t approve. He couldn’t do anything to make him see sense. He said Eric always loved me and Clint…but he would say that, wouldn’t he?

I feel like my insides have been put through wringer, Eric always said he didn’t want any more kids, even though I was desperate for a little girl. All along, he were planning a family with that cheap Jezebel. And to rub salt into wound, Samuel is his father’s name.

Apparently, just before Eric passed away, he and that woman bought an apartment in Spain where she now lives with her son. That’s why Eric kept popping over on his own, to buy a property for them. He had no intention of me and our Clint moving out there.

I asked Don if Eric were planning to retire with them in Spain but he wouldn’t answer, he just stared at the bottom of his glass. That answered my question more than any words could.

My whole world has fallen apart, I did everything for that man. I never thought he would be the one to hurt me like this.

I went to see Lil at the home and as soon as she saw my face, she knew. She said she had suspected for some time but hoped she were wrong. She said sometimes folk lose their way while trying to protect those they love. She’s fading into her own sunset but still has her marbles.

But it doesn’t wash with me. Eric was a selfish man who wanted it all and what really gets my goat is that he never showed much affection towards our Clint, he was probably too busy playing footie with his other son. If he were still alive, I’d kill him for what he’s done to our family.

I told Clint what had happened and he locked himself in his room and blasted out his Slade records. I usually tell him off for that as Noddy’s voice grates on me but I let it go on this occasion.

I’ve tried to think of all the signs and, if I’m honest, I had my suspicions that Eric were up to no good but nothing like this. I still can’t believe he was capable of such deception.

He would always disappear each Christmas day, and one time Clint was walking back from garage shop (he likes those pepperoni sticks), and saw Eric in t’ phone box, he said he were leaning on door and crying. I said he had probably decided to call his Aunt Lil and got emotional, but I thought it were odd at time as we have two phones in the flat.

I don’t understand what he saw in that Doreen, she were lathered in make up and had a hump on her back. There were nowt about her that I could see.

When I think back to the times I visited him in Scarborough, he must have been with her. I never met the kiddie as Eric stopped me from visiting. He said it would be a wasted journey if he had to go off on an emergency call.

He were a bloody insurance rep not a fireman.

But I did as I were told and let him get on with his work. I feel I’ve lost him all over again, he were the love of my life but I wasn’t his.

We used to sit at home and play records in t’ evening. We’d snuggle up on settee while he’d kick off his slippers and put his feet up on pouffe. He’d kiss the top of my head and say ‘You think life is the way Frank Sinatra sings’, that always made me laugh. I thought no man could ever love me the way my Eric did.

You see, I gave my life to him, that were my mistake. I never kept anything back for myself. It took me a few years to get on with things after he died. And the hospital shop were the saving of me, that and my darling son.

Molly Chadwick once said to me ‘You can’t turn back the clock but you can wind it up again’. I just don’t know if I’m strong enough to do it all over again.

I haven’t been back to Eric’s grave as yet. I normally go of a Sunday before I visit Lil at the home. His tombstone has the inscription ‘A heart that loves is always young’. He’d written that inside the first Valentine card he ever sent me. I feel like going up there with a can of spray paint and spraying ‘Liar!’ all over it.

I stayed with Joyce last Friday night as Mandy was over at ours and I couldn’t face her mithering. We had a long chat into the night and got a bit tipsy as we listened to Andy Williams and mulled over our pasts.

I know Joyce still loves her Ted but you’ll not get her to admit it. She’s much stronger than me. I’m all front, she’s probably the only one who really knows that.

After a few glasses of Asti, we had a dance in her front room but she kept trying to lead. We must have looked a right pair of gobbins.

Joyce said I should see her neighbour the counsellor. I don’t see point, I can only feel what I’m going to feel, she can’t change that. Besides, I don’t want to discuss my private life with a stranger in a jumpsuit.

Clint bought me roses to cheer me up, he’s such a thoughtful lad and clearly doesn’t take after his dad. I need to concentrate on him as he doesn’t talk about his feelings and bottles them up which brings on his hives.

He wants to go over to Spain and have it out with that tart but I said that won’t achieve anything right now and I don’t want him arguing with the young lad, it’s not his fault.

Clint used to get picked on quite a bit a school and Eric once said that he fights like he hasn’t got a brother - only he does have one. How could he be so cruel? But I’ll bide my time and then Doreen had better watch out. I’ll flatten that bloody hump of hers, so help me.

Thank you for listening, I’m not sure who’s out there but it helps to write it down. Clint just sent me a text, he’s outside with Argos Alan and they’re taking me to Gold Rush club. I have to face folk sooner or later but I just want to hide away and never be found.

I’ll leave you with a video of a song that Eric used to play when he was on t’ road, he said it reminded him of me. He’s gone and spoilt everything now, including my memories. They were all I had left of us.

Oh heck, whatever am I going to do?

Joyce will be with you next time. She covered my shifts all last week. Annabel came in to help and colour co-ordinated all the sweets.

Joyce reckons she must have that impulsive disorder.

Speak again soon.

Cheerio for now. Love from Sylvie xx

Panic stations!!

Hello everybody.

Did you have a good weekend? I bought some new toys for Bella, she’s off her medication now and whizzes around the house on her three legs, love her. She won’t go near bay window now, not after the pigeon incident.

It’s been a busy day at the hospital shop, I’ve been rushed off my feet since 8.30 am, you lose the morning, you lose the day. Sylvie had an appointment with her insurance broker late-afternoon, so she decided to take the day off and get her roots done while she’s in town.

Her broker is Don Clarkson, an old colleague of Eric’s. Apparently, a new policy has popped up out of the blue. She’s been making plans all weekend for a spending spree. Eric is still full of surprises, it seems.

Sidney offered to go with her as she doesn’t really understand legal matters and Clint’s not very bright with figures, but she said she’s quite happy to go alone as she might have a drink with Don and his wife afterwards.

I always looked after the finances in our house, Ted was never very good with accounts, unless he was at the betting shop, of course. He had no problem with sums there.

It’ll be nice for Sylvie to catch up with old friends. Me and Ted didn’t really have a circle of friends, more like acquaintances. Sometimes we’d all meet up for a drink on a Saturday night and the wives would sit together while the men stood at bar and sent drinks over. There wasn’t much conversation to be had.

I’m not much of a drinker; just the occasional sparkling wine with Sunday lunch or a small gin and tonic with a slice of lemon while me and Sidney watch Emmerdale. Sylvie likes Malibu and coke, I don’t know how she can drink that all night, it tastes like bubble gum.

Argos Alan gave me and Sylvie a mobile camera phone last week, Clint was worried about us being out in the dark. We have to pay as we phone. I’ve got pink and Sylvie’s got red. Sylvie keeps taking pictures of my behind when I’m bending down to get carrier bags for customers. She thinks she’s funny but she’s just being daft.

She has problems with the key pad because of her long nails. Between me and you, they’re stick-on ones but I’m not supposed to say. She was pretending to file them in front of Annabel Pemberton and one landed in my cup-a-soup, I wasn’t best pleased.

Clint has fixed Sylvie’s phone to play ‘New York!, New York!’ and mine to play ‘Greensleeves’. But I was in Superdrug and Sidney called to add a concealer to our shopping list and I heard someone shout ‘Smack My Bitch Up’ (pardon my French) from my handbag, I didn’t know where to put my face and I couldn’t turn the thing off. I daren’t go back in there now.

Lulu Mason, her with hairy mole who works on prescriptions, couldn’t stop laughing. I wanted the floor to swallow me up.

Sidney has managed to change it to a normal ringtone now. Clint said Argos Alan must have down-sized the wrong song from his computer!

Sylvie mentioned that she wants to go and see a psychic, she can’t find her marriage certificate and thought Eric might give her a nudge in right direction.

I saw Doris Stokes’ psychic show at Gracie Fields Theatre years ago, she pointed at me and said she had a poodle pulling at her hem but it was meant for Molly Chadwick in next row. I’d hoped mother or father would pop by to say hello but they never did.

Gladys Alcock from chippy reckons she’s a clairvoyant. I went over to her flat and it took days to get the reek of haddock out of my poncho. She lit a cigar, dribbled a bit and said her channels were blocked! She’s no more psychic than a pickled egg. Sidney said to make sure I get extra mushy peas next time she serves us.

If Sylvie gets a payout, she’s planning to buy a new outfit from Kendals for staff Christmas party. It’s gold satin with a sequin collar and a jacket to match. It doesn’t sound like my cup of tea but it’ll suit Sylvie, she likes a bit of razzle dazzle.

I tend to go for classic clothes, I have what Woman’s Own call a ‘capsule wardrobe’ but I miss C&A. I could find everything I wanted in there and didn’t have to traipse around precinct just to find the right cardigan.

But I have my moments and wore a fetching lilac frock to hospital barbecue this year with a white shawl like they’re all wearing these days.

I don’t think Sylvie liked the fact I was getting compliments as she’d worn her new Pistachio pants suit, but Clint squirted ketchup all over her jacket while he was shaking squeezy bottle by hot dog stand.

Frank, our security man, was quite taken with me that day and hasn’t stopped pestering me since. He’s harmless enough but a bit coarse for my liking. He was hanging around the shop last Friday and I gave him a cream horn but he was dripping all over my Bon Bons. I gave him a right mouthful, I can tell you.

Excuse me for a moment, I can hear shouting from my handbag. Oh dear, it’s the bitch again! Sidney couldn’t have changed the tune properly!

That was Sylvie, she’s all at sixes and sevens and is on her way over. Whatever can it be? She said she needs to talk to me. I hope I haven’t left the shop unlocked! I’m sure I put padlock on shutters. Tilly from florists is always last to leave foyer, she would have noticed and Frank works late.

I’m worried now, she was really upset. I don’t like the sound of this at all. Sylvie can have a temper on her at times. I fell off the stool last week, when I was putting box of Hula Hoops on top shelf out back, and she had a right go at me and said I should use step ladder in future.

She can’t do it, you see. She has vertebrae.

Lester said she’s waiting in taxi outside, I’d better dash, he says she has a face like thunder on her.

Sylvie will be on next week, as long as she’s not in prison for throttling me.

I used to enjoy watching ‘Within these Walls’, do you remember that? What was her name, who ran the prison? Boogie Withers or something like that. Sidney preferred ‘Prisoner Cell Block H’ but the women were a bit rough for my liking, they were more hygienic in Boogie’s prison.

Listen to me going on, Sylvie’s shouting at me from taxi. Oh dear, she can have a potty mouth on her at times.

I better go, wish me luck.

God bless, Joyce xx

Photographs and memories

Hello there. It’s Sylvie.

I expect you’re all wondering how things are going with Percy. Well, they’re not. He’s got sewn-up pockets, I can tell you that for nowt.

He took me to El Rancho at weekend and filled his face (he weren’t bothered that I can’t eat chillies, not with my insides) and he didn’t leave a tip for the young lad in a sombrero. I were that embarrassed, I pretended I needed to spend a penny and went back in and gave him a few quid.

Besides, we’re like chalk and cheese. Percy never goes abroad, he says he can’t see point. He has his old motor home which he drives up to to Lake District for a week each summer. He probably sits in there and counts his blooming matchboxes.

I enjoy my fortnight in Feungirola with my Clint, though Mandy’s tagged along for past couple of years. She covers herself in pink lotion and wears kaftans and big hats, she looks like a bag lady. I asked her why she bothers coming and she said she doesn’t trust Clint with all those half-naked girls around. She said it’s his animal magnetism that attracts them. She’s as daft as a brush, that one.

I try to bond with her but its hard work. I think she’s even jealous of me at times. Me and Clint watched Fatal Attraction t’ other night and I warned him to think on if he’s so much as looks at anyone else with Mandy watching his every move. He slept with his light on that night.

What else can I tell you? I went to see my Auntie Lil at the home yesterday. Well, she were Eric’s Auntie but we became very close when she moved in with us after she became immobile. She were good company while Eric worked away. I’d put Clint to bed and then we’d crack open the pink gin and sing along to Tony Bennett and Frank Sinatra on record player.

I’d end up going to bed half-cut but we had a right laugh and it took her mind off her paralysis.

But it was hard work having both her and a toddler to cope with. I’d spoon-feed Clint at one end of table and Lil at t’ other. I had a perm for 3 years.

It got easier when Clint started nursery school but it were a struggle in mornings when he’d cling onto Lil’s wheelchair and scream his little head off.

We’d go and collect him at home-time and while other kids ran around playground, he’d be inside Wendy house cooking a pretend fry-up. We knew he was special, even back then.

He still thinks that if he wakes up fast enough, he’ll catch himself sleeping. He’s deep like that.

Lil had to go into a home after Clint accidently let go of her wheelchair down a ramp and she toppled into a skip. Luckily, Eric had sorted out an insurance policy which mostly takes care of her expenses but it’s a dear do. I sometimes chip in where I can and Joyce does a bit of fund-raising, bless her.

Lil’s in her nineties now. Two strokes, diabetic coma and tinnitus but she’s still in there with the best of them. Sometimes she thinks she’s Mrs Bridges from ‘Upstairs, Downstairs’ and calls out for Mr Hudson. We just go along with it, she’s not harming folk.

Clint entertains at the home’s parties. He usually strums guitar or plays Stylophone. Mandy sometimes plays spoons but she’s not very good, they usually go flying off in opposite directions. One hit Alfie Cartwright on the head last year and he had to have a lie-down in medical room.

Clint and Argos Alan took their DJ equipment down there last Christmas but the strobe lighting caused a couple of epileptic fits, though everyone else had a good time and they taught the residents how to Moonwalk, Clint said it were like ‘Cocoon’.

Just as we were leaving yesterday, Lil took out an envelope from her sponge bag and gave it to Mandy and said it were a little summit for their wedding. They opened it up when we got back to van and it were full of Monopoly money but they laughed once penny had dropped.

I went to see Ivy who’s still laid up with scabby hands, but at least the mittens are off. I were telling her about that tight wad Percy when she started to go all red in t’ face and I realised she were choking on a pear drop.

I’ve just done a First Aid course, so I gave her the Heimlich manoeuvre and the sweet shot out of Ivy’s gob and landed on Doctor Singh’s turban. I laughed my head off but Ivy were mortified!

Ivy was telling me that her sister Betty has just been sacked from Lilley & Skinner. Betty used to work at medical centre for donkey’s years as receptionist but she started to diagnose folk from her old medical book.

She frightened half the patients into thinking they had polio and she told Nobby Clarke he needed an iron lung! I saw his Irene, she were in bits.

She only got found out after Doctor Fairley bumped into Elsie Warburton buying a crate of oranges for her scurvy.

Betty got a job in shoe shop but she diagnosed two veruccas and a club foot in her first week, so she got her cards. It’s a shame when folk have to work to top up their pension, she’s clearly addled.

I see that Joyce has been banging on about Annabel Pemberton at drama group. Annabel is as much use as a chocolate teapot. She can’t even manage her lip liner let alone a bunch of hospital shops. She said we’re getting a techno till and a uniform. Me and Joyce said we’ll wear top hat and tails if we have to, but we’re still wearing us slippers.

Annabel wants to get all her staff together for a team building trip, but if she thinks I’m walking across Pennines with a compass and back-pack, she’s very much mistaken. She’s told me to contact all her branches and ask when staff are free for weekend away. Paddle your own canoe, I thought.

Did I mention it were just my wedding anniversary? It was a bit upsetting but I went over to Joyce’s house and Sidney made us a nice tea. I didn’t really want to go over there but they insisted. Then I had to put up with them singing at piano.

Crackpot Joyce tried to hit top note at end of ‘Evergreen’. Barbra Streisand’s got nowt to worry about.

I left at 9.30pm before they sang the whole back catalogue of Rogers and Hammerstein, and I went to bed and looked through my wedding album.

Oh, we were so young, so full of love and hope. Eric always pushed himself to be the best at everything, he’d say ‘Stick with me and I’ll have you farting through silk’.

Percy’s idea of romance was opening a can of beer away from my face.

I wished Eric had been at home more but I knew he was working hard to give me and Clint a better life. The separations were hard but he always phoned when he was on t’ road and sent postcards and flowers. He were thoughtful like that and treated me like a queen.

I’d get butterflies just waiting for him to put key in door. The flat came alive whenever he were there, it became a home.

We’d sometimes talk about what the other would do when one of us passed away. I once asked if he’d prefer a funeral or cremation and he winked and said ‘Surprise me!’. He could always make me laugh, even about his death.

I decided to go with a burial for him, you don’t know who you’re getting with urns. I often visit his grave and talk to him. I said to him t’ other day, it’s my turn to buy the flowers now.

I went up there on our anniversary and left a card for him and a miniature whiskey, he liked his tipple. Clint said a wino will probably take that. ‘Good luck to them’, I said, ‘they can have a drink on Eric’. He always stood a round, not like Percy.

Clint was never that close to his dad, if truth be told. Sometimes he feels Eric’s presence in the flat. He says he’s more aware of him now that he’s dead, funny that.

I never thought Eric would look twice at me. Who’d have thought a Parker pen would have changed my life? He had the pick of lasses but he chose me, I felt so proud on his arm.

I recently watched ‘When Harry met Sally’, and there was a line about going for the person you want to be with before someone else grabs them and then you’ll spend the rest of your life knowing that another woman is married to your husband.

I’d have hated to think of another woman living out my dreams with Eric. A love like that only comes along once in a lifetime, and you never stop feeling that way, even after they’ve gone. I’ve had my share of fellas but when I met my Eric, it all fell into place and I knew that he was the one.

Listen to me, I sound like one of Joyce’s Mills & Boon books!

Anyway, I’ve been keeping up with Strictly Ballroom Dancing. That Bruce Forsyth needs to call it a day, if you’re asking me. He doesn’t look all there half the time. Folk in Lil’s home have more about them.

My two homosexual neighbours are big fans of the show. What were it they said? ‘It’s as camp as a diamanté cake stand’. One of them wears a kimono, you have to laugh.

They said that ‘Supermarket Sweep’ is coming back. My Clint said he’ll apply to that. I told Mandy to just dangle a kebab in front of him and he’ll be round those aisles like a whippet on heat.

He’s debating whether to get a tattoo. He drew one on himself with a magic marker and it won’t come off. Daft bugger copied it from the take out menu from Jade Garden, so he’s now got a side-order for deep-fried prawns up his arm.

Well, Lester is waiting to show me how to post my chosen video onto blog. And as I’ve been talking about Eric, I’ve chosen a song by Peggy Lee which I always sang to him at karaoke, I still do.

He used to say I sounded like her but that was when I smoked twenty Park Drive a day. Joyce badgered me into giving up last year. She’d whip out her Airwick whenever I came back after a fag break.

Anyway, last time I sang this song, it was at Gold Rush club but it didn’t feel the same without Eric there. Sidney was waving his feather boa about after a few port and lemons. The daft apath.

Cheerio for now, Love from Sylvie xx