Rising from the ashes...

Hello there, Sylvie here.

It’s been one drama after another. I usually lead such an uneventful life! Joyce told you all about the fire, then?

Hells bells! I thought I were a goner. Lester gave me a fireman’s lift, though he’s done his back in carrying folk out.

All I remember is grabbing my coat and bag before falling t’ floor coughing and spluttering. I think I had an out of the body experience because I saw that Percy lying on top of Molly Chadwick in function room and her wig was floating in punch bowl.

Clint rushed up t’ hospital, the poor mite were in tears, Mandy came in wearing her nighty and dressing gown, she looked a right mess. I noticed she was wearing my new slippers, cheeky mare.

Once I was settled on t’ ward, Joyce burst through doors like John Wayne and started fussing with covers and feeling my forehead. She got on my wick but I could see she were worried, so I let her do her Florence Nightingale bit.

Clint and Mandy went home and Joyce stayed on, I kept drifting off and every time I woke up, she was holding my hand and saying a prayer. I’m not a believer in any way, shape or form but it made her feel better, I suppose.

The nurses said she slept on the chair next to my bed, she really didn’t have to stay all night. I were fine apart from my smoky lungs, but that might be down to forty years of smoking Park Drive rather than the fire.

Ethel is in trouble with council for leaving chip pan on stove. She’s gone into hiding but I saw her hanging washing on balcony t’ other day, she pretended she didn’t see me and scuttled indoors with a tea towel over her head. She’ll have to face folk sooner or later and get it over with.

Lester was presented with a replacement guitar at the Gold Rush club after Clint finished Bingo. Ah, Lester were dead chuffed as it were better than the original one he had bought from Argos Alan’s extension sale.

Me and Joyce have our new computers now. I have one with a desk and chair, Joyce has a laptop but it’s very noisy. It sounds like the hairdryers at Krazy Kutz in precinct.

Clint treated me to a hairdo there as the smoke had ruined my colour. I’ve gone for sunflower yellow; Joyce thinks it’s a bit brassy but only because she’s dishwater grey.

Clint is quite good on t’ computer but he has trouble with managing keyboard. Mandy said he’s joined a virtual pub chat room and doesn’t get to bed until early hours as he’s always in a lock-in. She thinks he fancies the barmaid, Raucous Rita. I told her not to worry; he’ll have got himself barred by end of month.

I can order my shopping on t’ internet. Clint wasn’t too impressed when ASDA didn’t deliver his chilli con carne and cauliflower cheese ready-made meals, he were given a couple of tins of kidney beans, a packet of Dairy Lea and a cauliflower instead.

I think he prefers to go round shop with trolley, he gets easily tempted by all the treats but I said he can go with Mandy in future. I’m moving with the times and doing it from my living room.

I went to see Lil at the home yesterday. She wasn’t too impressed with Joyce’s visit and gave me her cake tin with the Bakewell Tart untouched. Lil can be funny with folk she doesn’t know very well. I think she thought I wasn’t coming back and she’d be stuck with Joyce wittering on about musicals each week.

I had to laugh when Lil asked if I were wearing a flame-retardant frock when centre burnt down. Her mind works in very mysterious ways at times. It’s difficult to make head or tail of what she says as she never puts her teeth in. ‘When I’m out they’re in and when I’m in they’re out’, she always says.

It turns out that Demi, her nurse, is related to that lad in polo neck who won jackpot on ‘Deal or No Deal’ recently. Apparently, he won’t answer his phone now. She said she wouldn’t mind but he owes her a tenner.

Money can change folk and before you know it they have a ceramic cheetah in their passage.

I had to collect my Avon money on trolley round this afternoon but most were just coming round from anaesthetic, so I didn’t hover for long. I’ll catch them in morning, they’ll be more with it by then. And Doris Begley still owes me for Lavender balls while two weeks back.

I’m not buying Joyce any more skin care gifts for Christmas, she never uses them. Though, she should. Her skin’s rougher than a badger’s arse. She needs a bit more help than Nivea can offer these days.

Coco Chanel once said that you get the face you deserve at fifty but Joyce has had a tough life when all’s said and done. So I shouldn’t go on.

Well, it was all go on Princess Diana ward today; they had to share birthing pools as delivery rooms were full. Some of the mums were overdue so they sent Frank out last night to Korma Sutra for a Vindaloo take-away and all hell broke loose this morning when their waters broke!

Frank’s keeping his head down as the midwives are on the war path. Why are they still called midwives when men do the job as well? They’d do well to ponder on that one in this age of sexist equality.

Joyce was telling me that her lady vicar from St. Andrews is living with Connie from pound shop and they’re going to have a baby together. Good luck to them, though I wouldn’t go round to their house for a Turkey roast!

Joyce can’t get her head round it. Considering her dad was a homosexual man and her Sidney buys Victorian dolls from Sunday supplements, you’d think she’d be more liberated. She’s not a prude or a phobic but she can be slow on the uptake at times but her heart’s in right place.

Well, did you watch Strictly Dancing at the weekend? I think that John Sargeant will end up in the final if the public have their way! It’s a shame Cherie went out as she flew the flag for us older ladies and I’d kill for legs like that. I’m thinking of getting my veins stripped in the spring.

I think the professional dancers are too fast when they perform their own routines, it’s not normal is that. I get quite giddy with all the spinning and dipping and the fellas have back-sides you could rest a brew on!

Bruce gets on my nerves, he’s a big show-off and his blonde side-kick looks embarrassed most of time. They should get that nice Dale Winton to take over; he’d sort out the mice from the men.

But I do like Len Goodman, he’s a man I could rumba with any day of week.

Anyway, Corrie is on in a minute and it looks like young me lado David is in trouble again. He never learns, does he? He needs a week with Blanche Hunt as that Gayle is too soft on him, and she needs a decent hair colour. That mousy shade isn’t very becoming on a mature woman, you only have to look at Joyce.

Hope you all have a good week and stay warm, its brass monkeys up here.

Cheerio for now. Love from Sylvie xx