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