My Friend Rosey

Rosey's standing ovation

2011-10-21T02:13:00.000-07:00

We had all arranged to meet at Starbucks for an infusion of caffeine after a long night at the Bicycle Arms. It was a gorgeous morning so we decided to sit outside in the sunshine and catch a few rays. I was there with Jonno, Claire, Daniel, Charlie (as in Charlotte with her trademark boy’s short back and sides, and rapidly descending baggy jeans), and of course Rosey. Rosey offered to go inside and order our drinks, an offer none of was going to refuse despite a niggling feeling that things could just go wrong at some stage in the operation. Most of us chose sensible drinks, mainly Americano’s with or without milk. Rosey stared into the middle distance and proclaimed that she was going to have a (I think this is right) a Tazo Green Tea Crème Frappuccino, and when quizzed on its makeup she declared that it was a refreshing blend of sweetened macha green tea with milk and ice, topped with sweetened whipped cream. I was somewhat impressed with her knowledge of unusual sounding beverages with odd sounding names, until that is Jonno pointed to a card on the next table plugging the above mentioned liquid concoction, and easily read by Rosey even without her spectacles. Anyway, she refused help and made her way inside to order our drinks.

We were so busy chatting that we didn’t notice that Rosey was tottering her way back across the café with a somewhat overloaded tray of cups and glasses. We spotted her just as she was trying to work out how to open the door, and before we could go to her assistance she had already turned around and was opening it by pushing against it with her back. Suddenly a young man was heading toward the door from the street, and rather unwisely pulled it open sending Rosey staggering backwards out onto the terrace and straight into his arms! All we could do was to watch on as steaming coffee shot up into the air and a large dollop of whipped cream landed fairly and squarely on Rosey’s nose.

There was little bit of discussion going on only interrupted by occasional giggles from both of them. Rosey called out that she was going back inside with her new acquaintance to repair the damage done to our long awaited drinks. A few minutes later she was on her way back with a big grin on her face and a refilled tray. We all looked on in part amazement part horror at the green concoction Rosey was about to swallow. She was more interested in telling us about Claude and was obviously quite struck by her new found friend; in fact they’d even swapped phone numbers. She told us how charming he was, and how just for once her parents might approve of him as he’d told her he was a barrister. As she was gushing about him I glanced inside the café to see him tying on an apron and making his way behind the counter. I thought I really ought to tell her that far from being a wig wearing justice of the peace, he was actually a Starbucks Barista. She actually took it very well, and said she still found him very attractive even if he does smell permanently of soggy coffee grounds.

I commented on his rather unusual name; you don’t get too many Claudes these days. That reminded Daniel of an old joke and he asked us what you call the loser in a hissing, scratching cat fight. The answer he said was – Claude! Don’t worry if you don’t get it straight away, I thought about it all day before it dawned on me and I doubt it will ever sink in to Rosey’s brain! Whether Charlie got it or not I don’t know, but she came back with another cat joke; what does a cat do when it stops? Answer, paws. Mmm! Rosey liked that one and suddenly clapped her hands together and said that the answers to those two questions reminded her of a cat joke of her own.

To say that she got in a muddle telling it would be an understatement. I must say, it is quite a tongue twister, but between us we managed to sort it out for her. It goes like this. What is the difference between a full stop and a cat? A full stop is a pause after a clause, and a cat has claws on its paws. We simultaneously broke into a round of applause and stood up to leave. Rosey assumed she was receiving a standing ovation and bowed her head banging it on the table! After the laughter and assorted groans had died down, Rosey tipped her Tazo Green Tea Crème Frappuccino down her throat in one enormous gulp, looked at us with horror-film green lips and bulging eyes, then pulled an agonised face. ‘That was horrid’ she squeaked then let out a thunderous belch! ‘That’s better’ she said, ‘Gone with the wind’. That was the funniest thing she said all day because she was making an amusing reference to the fact we were planning to visit the Vintage Picture Palace later that day to see the Vivien Leigh film of the same name.

‘What colour is a burp?’ called out Claire. ‘Burple’ chuckled Rosey!

Rosey has words

2011-10-16T06:49:00.000-07:00

Rosey was in a strange mood the other evening. It seems that someone had said something unpleasant to her during a drama class at her school. As you know Rosey takes her position as classroom assistant to Sally Blackley very seriously, and when she was asked by Sally to take part in a junior version of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet she was in her element! At the time she thought that being too keen was probably not such a good idea, so she answered the request with a line from the bard himself – ‘to be or not to be’ she asked, ‘that is the question – Hamlet act three scene one!’ Anyway, she agreed ‘to be’ and a few days later rehearsals began.

You may recall that I told you about her contribution to the school Christmas play a couple of years ago. She went from being a production assistant to playing a major role, that of the first palm tree on the right next to the principal alien.. Ever since then, the children have insisted that she joins them on stage at every possible opportunity! Clearly, despite her youthful looks, she was a bit too old to play the part of Juliet, much to the chagrin of young Jamey Fothergill who had landed the part of Romeo.

One of the other teachers, Francis (known as Frigid Fran behind her back) always treated Rosey with disdain; clearly she thought that Rosey was beneath her being no more than teacher’s assistant, and was observably jealous of her popularity among the staff and students. She couldn’t understand why she should have a stage part in what was meant to be a kid’s production. ‘For you and I are past our dancing days’ she said. ‘From act one scene five I believe!’ retorted Rosey putting Fran firmly in her place. She then suggested that Rosey play the part of Rosaline, the character Romeo has a crush on in the early part of the play. Rosey was initially delighted! But then she suddenly remembered that Rosaline has a non-speaking part and never even appears on stage.Sally tutted at Fran and suggested that Rosey play the nurse, one of the funniest yet most disturbing characters in the play.

It seems that Rosey’s presence among the cast was having an inspirational effect on the young Thespians. ‘O! She doth teach the torches to burn bright’ said Sally to Fran quoting a line from the play. ‘Act one, scene five’ called Rosey from the wings. Fran was visibly riled.

The first rehearsal was a triumph. Sally was delighted with Rosey’s contribution; Fran less so. The children fled from the room visibly excited and enthused by the events of the afternoon.

As Rosy was putting on her coat on, Fran sidled up to her. ‘You are as a candle, the better burnt out’ she hissed.

‘ Henry the forth part one’ said Rosey ‘and you are loathsome as a toad’.

‘Ah’ said Fran ‘Troilus and Cressida! Peace ye fat guts’ she shouted. ‘Henry the forth part one again’ chuckled Rosey.

‘Parting is such sweet sorrow – not’ said Fran as she left the room.

After Rosey had finished telling us about the strange events of the afternoon she opened a bottle of her favourite Chardonnay and visibly relaxed. I don’t know much Shakespeare so the best I could come up with was something along the lines of ‘sticks and stones may hurt my bones but words will never hurt me’.

‘Yes’ said Rosey, ’but a blow with a word strikes deeper than a blow with a sword’

'Who said that?' I asked. 'Aint got a clue' said Rosey,'Cheers!'

Rosey's allotment redsigned

2011-10-16T06:47:00.000-07:00

We knew she was up to something. All of us were barred from visiting Rosey’s allotment. The general consensus was that she’d got bored with it and didn’t want us to see the mess it had become. After all, this time last year, we were constantly being invited to partake of a gin and tonic and a help ourselves to as many vegetables as we could carry.

I was at a loose end yesterday, and I knew that Rosey was away visiting her friend in Piddletrenthide. No doubt she would be sitting in the garden of the Chamber Inn on the bank of the River Piddle and having a giggle catching up with all the latest news and gossip. So, I ventured down to the allotment site to take a look at her one-time pride and joy.

I was gobsmacked. Imagine the scene. The Meads Allotments comprises some twenty plots. Most are neat and tidy with rows of salad leaves, vegetables and fruit. Early runner beans sway in the breeze, and tomatoes blush in the June summer sun. Earnest gardeners hoe and dig and harvest their bounty. One or two plots look in need of a little attention, and a couple are overgrown. I expected Rosey’s to fall into the latter category, but I was wrong. I felt as if my eyes were deceiving me because there in the middle of all those bountiful small holdings was a garden! Not a vegetable garden – a proper garden! Gone were the rows of potatoes and peas that graced the plot last time I visited. In their place I found clumps of colourful flowers and plump little shrubs. Between them was a shingle path, chunky pottery tubs and a wooden picnic bench. The shed sported a fresh coat of pink paint, a wind chime tinkled as a robin pecked at the food on a rustic bird table. There I stood there in an oasis! A few square feet of peace and tranquillity.

So Rosey, your secret is out! Why you kept it so quiet I know not. I can only assume you were waiting for the right time to invite us all over for a garden warming! I have to congratulate you on creating something completely different, but then you were

never one to court convention!

Shipwreck!

2011-10-16T06:44:00.001-07:00

I don’t know if you remember but back in January I told you about Rosey and her unfortunate incident in her rowing boat – if not, you can find it here. Ever since that fateful day we have referred to it as Rosey’s shipwreck! So when an exhibition came to our local art gallery with the one word title Shipwreck, we felt we had to drag Rosey along to show her what a lucky escape she had in comparison to the tragic events in marine history past.

So off we went, Rosey chose to wear an outfit of blue and white as she felt it fitted the occasion. We suggested she should have worn a lifejacket as it would have been more in keeping. I have to admit that the pictures were not particularly interesting. Rosey thought that the star exhibit, ‘The Shipwreck' by Turner was pretty dull and certainly not as interesting as his most famous work, ‘The Hay Wain’. I pointed out that John Constable painted the Hay Wain to which Rosey retorted that he should have been promoted to at least a Sergeant by now!

Anyway, we wandered though into the next room where things certainly looked up, for me at least! Gone were the broken boats and crashing waves. Now our eyes feasted upon painting after painting of Rubenesque ladies from the Baroque period. Rosey made a tut-tutting noise and said that it was unfair that all the nude paintings depicted women. I pointed out to her a sign on the wall that said ‘Men’ and off she strutted in the direction of the arrow. One minute later she found herself standing before a row of urinals!

On her way back she spotted a notice on the wall advertising life painting classes, and you’ll not be surprised to learn that she intends enrolling. I for one can’t wait to see the results!

Rosey and the secret

2011-10-16T06:42:00.000-07:00

My friend Rosey was out shopping the other day. Her friend Helen spotted her and weaved her way between the wandering shoppers. ‘Hey, Rosey Pee’ yelled Helen. ‘Moo’ said Rosey. ‘Pardon?’ said Helen with a quizzical expression on her face. ‘Hay’ said Rosey. ‘Hey’ said Helen again, looking a little confused. ‘No thanks’ said Rosey ‘Only moo-cows eat hay!’ She then got a fit of the giggles! ‘Just a joke Helen’ she spluttered, ‘Don’t you get it? Hay, moo, cow!’ Helen shook her head with a big grin on her face. By Rosey standards, that wasn’t a bad joke she thought.

‘Listen Rosey’ said Helen. ‘You won’t believe what Steve just told me’. ‘What’s that?’ asked Rosey. ‘Keep it to yourself Rosey Pee, because it’s a secret, but I just have to tell someone’. ‘Okie dokie’ said Rosey ‘Spill the beans then’.

‘Well’ said Helen ‘Steve said that his mate Allan was talking to his friend James, and James said something about Jane. You will so not believe this Rosey Pee – Jane is preggers, up the duff, mit kinder! And sweet innocent James is the father to be!’ Rosey held her hand to her mouth , her eyes bulging like organ stops. ‘Mum’s the word’ said Rosey chuckling to herself.’ Mum’s the word – secret - pregnant! Get it?’

As soon as Rosey got home she was on the phone to Amanda. ‘Mandy’ she whispered. ‘I can’t hear you Rosey, speak up’ said Amanda. ‘I can’t shout’ said Rosey ‘because it’s a secret, and ceilings have ears’. ‘Walls have ears Rosey’ laughed Amanda. ‘What, walls too?’ said Rosey’. ‘Never mind about that’, said Amanda, ‘what’s the big secret?’

‘Well’ said Rosey ‘I saw Helen today and she told me a secret. She said that James told her that his friend Allan has got Jane in the pudding club!’ Trust my friend Rosey to get it the wrong way round!

She couldn’t have told a worse person. Amanda is widely known as the mouth of the south! She couldn’t get Rosey off the phone quickly enough so that she could call her mate Nicki and tell her the secret she’d just heard. Nicki decided that it was too good a scandal to keep to herself. She grabbed her coat, popped her feet half way into her shoes and rushed out of her front door, hopping and limping her way to the pub. Brenda the bartender was pouring drinks. ‘Quick’ said Nicki. ‘You won’t believe this!’

Brenda leaned across the bar so Nicki could whisper in her ear. She had a bit of difficulty hearing because the pub was very noisy, but she obviously got the gist of Nicki’s revelation, because a look of utter amazement spread across her face. In minutes, it was clear that the so-called secret was the talk of the bar.

The pub door opened and in walked Rosey. ‘Hi gang’ she called out as she strode towards her friends. ‘Who’s going to buy me a chardonnay then?’. ‘Should you be drinking that?’ asked Dickie. ‘Sorry?’ said Rosey as she started to hoist herself onto a bar stool. ‘Don’t sit up there’ said Mike. Suppose you topple off. Sit down here on a chair’. Rosey wondered what on earth was going on. ‘You never told me you were going out with Allan’ said Julie. ‘I’m not’ said Rosey, ‘what are you talking about?’ ‘Don’t worry’ said Nicki, your secret’s safe with us.

Rosey’s cell phone suddenly started to warble Nellie the Elephant, her latest ring tone. It was Helen on the other end. ‘Rosey Pee, you dark horse! You let me tell you all about James and Helen and all the time you had a secret of your own!’

Suddenly all the strange behaviour made sense. They all got back to enjoying a drink together. Julie suggested they all play a game. ‘I know’ said Rosey, let’s play Chinese Whispers!’

Rosey's friend jack

2011-10-16T06:40:00.001-07:00

Rosey and I went round to Jack’s the other night. I can’t remember if I’ve told you about Jack, but he’s a friend of Rosey from her school days. She lost touch with him when he went to university. He was always something of a musician, and a fairly serious one. Whilst we were all trying to emulate Meatloaf he’d be studying the finer points of Mozart. He came out of uni with a creditable first in what Rosey calls ‘musicing’. As you know Rosey is a teaching assistant at the school she attended as a kid, and when they last did an end of term concert Jack, a fellow ex-pupil, turned up to help bring together the blowing, banging, strumming and squeaking of the school orchestra.

As I said we popped round to Jack’s pad the other day; Rosey wanted me to be there to lend moral support as she felt a little inferior in the company of the maestro. His apartment couldn’t be more different from Roseys. Everything is neat and tidy. On his wall he proudly displays his degree certificate alongside a photo of himself in mortar board and gown. The centrepiece of the room is a magnificent glossy black Steinway baby grand piano. After a glass or two of very fine wine and some very expensive nibbles (we were not exactly sure what they were but we made all the ooh and ahh sounds to show our appreciation) we felt we ought to ask him to play us something suitable for the occasion. Actually Rosey asked him to ‘bash out a tune on the ‘ole Joanna’, her turn of phrase causing Jack to wince just a little. Anyway, he put up no argument, and a few seconds later we were being entertained by his rousing rendition of someone-or-others’ piano concerto. Apparently it was in A minor, but Rosey whispered to me that it sounded B flat.

Once over, we applauded and as Jack got up from the stool Rosey shot across the room and plonked herself down at the piano. Jack muttered something about being gentle with his beloved instrument, but Rosey was already poised to open part two of the evening’s entertainment. You’ll remember no doubt that Rosey only plays one tune, Chopsticks. I say ’play’, but that is something of an exaggeration. She is as good atplaying Chopsicks as she is at eating with them. Only the other night she managed to poke one right up her nose whilst doing battle with a plate of chop suey in the Poo Ping Chinese eatery.

I must say that Jack was very generous with vino, and before we knew it we’d passed the witching hour and beginning to wonder how we were going to get home. Driving was clearly not advisable given the state of minor inebriation we found ourselves in, and the last bus was tucked up safe and sound in its garage for the night. Jack to the rescue. He said one of us could have the spare room for the night and the other could get their head down on the sofa. A coin was duly tossed to establish who would get the bed. I said to Rosey ‘heads I win tails you lose’ which she accepted and I duly got the spare room. As I said goodnight to her I could see that something about the way the decision was made was worrying her.

It was about 4.30 in the morning when we heard Rosey scream. Jack and I stumbled down the stairs and into the lounge where we saw Rosey in half light sitting up on the sofa a giggling. Apparently she was having a dream, at least she thought she was, and suddenly she saw this monster in a dark corner of the room with its enormous mouth open, baring an alarming set of gappy teeth. A second or two later she realised it was no more than Jack’s piano.

When morning properly arrived Jack asked us if we’d like to join him for a cup of Nicaraguan Maragogype elephant bean coffee with scrambled free range eggs and McGilvray smoked salmon, followed by one of his specially imported hand crafted pain au chocolat from his ‘little man’ in the Bohemian quarter of Paris. We declined his invitation and headed off to Greg’s Greasy Spoon for a full English breakfast washed down with a mug of his famous stewed tea! And guess what was playing on the radio in the background – yep, Piano Man!

Rosey's big secret

2011-10-16T06:38:00.000-07:00

My friend Rosey was out shopping the other day. Her friend Helen spotted her and weaved her way between the wandering shoppers. ‘Hey, Rosey Pee’ yelled Helen. ‘Moo’ said Rosey. ‘Pardon?’ said Helen with a quizzical expression on her face. ‘Hay’ said Rosey. ‘Hey’ said Helen again, looking a little confused. ‘No thanks’ said Rosey ‘Only moo-cows eat hay!’ She then got a fit of the giggles! ‘Just a joke Helen’ she spluttered, ‘Don’t you get it? Hay, moo, cow!’ Helen shook her head with a big grin on her face. By Rosey standards, that wasn’t a bad joke she thought.

‘Listen Rosey’ said Helen. ‘You won’t believe what Steve just told me’. ‘What’s that?’ asked Rosey. ‘Keep it to yourself Rosey Pee, because it’s a secret, but I just have to tell someone’. ‘Okie dokie’ said Rosey ‘Spill the beans then’.

‘Well’ said Helen ‘Steve said that his mate Allan was talking to his friend James, and James said something about Jane. You will so not believe this Rosey Pee – Jane is preggers, up the duff, mit kinder! And sweet innocent James is the father to be!’ Rosey held her hand to her mouth , her eyes bulging like organ stops. ‘Mum’s the word’ said Rosey chuckling to herself.’ Mum’s the word – secret - pregnant! Get it?’

As soon as Rosey got home she was on the phone to Amanda. ‘Mandy’ she whispered. ‘I can’t hear you Rosey, speak up’ said Amanda. ‘I can’t shout’ said Rosey ‘because it’s a secret, and ceilings have ears’. ‘Walls have ears Rosey’ laughed Amanda. ‘What, walls too?’ said Rosey’. ‘Never mind about that’, said Amanda, ‘what’s the big secret?’

‘Well’ said Rosey ‘I saw Helen today and she told me a secret. She said that James told her that his friend Allan has got Jane in the pudding club!’ Trust my friend Rosey to get it the wrong way round!
She couldn’t have told a worse person. Amanda is widely known as the mouth of the south! She couldn’t get Rosey off the phone quickly enough so that she could call her mate Nicki and tell her the secret she’d just heard. Nicki decided that it was too good a scandal to keep to herself. She grabbed her coat, popped her feet half way into her shoes and rushed out of her front door, hopping and limping her way to the pub. Brenda the bartender was pouring drinks. ‘Quick’ said Nicki. ‘You won’t believe this!’

Brenda leaned across the bar so Nicki could whisper in her ear. She had a bit of difficulty hearing because the pub was very noisy, but she obviously got the gist of Nicki’s revelation, because a look of utter amazement spread across her face. In minutes, it was clear that the so-called secret was the talk of the bar.

The pub door opened and in walked Rosey. ‘Hi gang’ she called out as she strode towards her friends. ‘Who’s going to buy me a chardonnay then?’. ‘Should you be drinking that?’ asked Dickie. ‘Sorry?’ said Rosey as she started to hoist herself onto a bar stool. ‘Don’t sit up there’ said Mike. Suppose you topple off. Sit down here on a chair’. Rosey wondered what on earth was going on. ‘You never told me you were going out with Allan’ said Julie. ‘I’m not’ said Rosey, ‘what are you talking about?’ ‘Don’t worry’ said Nicki, your secret’s safe with us.

Rosey’s cell phone suddenly started to warble Nellie the Elephant, her latest ring tone. It was Helen on the other end. ‘Rosey Pee, you dark horse! You let me tell you all about James and Helen and all the time you had a secret of your own!’

Suddenly all the strange behaviour made sense. They all got back to enjoying a drink together. Julie suggested they all play a game. ‘I know’ said Rosey, let’s play Chinese Whispers!’

Rosey's little bit of India

2011-10-16T06:33:00.000-07:00

‘That’s just piffle’ said Rosey. ‘You are talking nonsense’ she said. Then she slammed down the phone.
I was at her apartment where we were enjoying a drink and an Indian meal together. Our plates were balanced precariously on our laps; we couldn’t sit at the table like civilised human beings because it was in its usual state of chaos with teetering piles of books, screwed up papers, pens, brushes and paint pots competing for space with a fruit bowl containing a lonely brown banana. She was concentrating hard on transporting an overfull spoon of curry from the foil container to her plate when the phone suddenly rang. In truly Rosey style she jumped out her skin sending a dollop of Dansak into the floor. She swore, I complained and she told me not to be such a *?!>#% prude. Nothing new there! Anyway she made to the telephone just in time and I carried on eating as she listened intently to the individual who’d unreasonably interrupted our ‘Indian Banquet for Two’ (This week’s special at the supermarket)
I sort of flapped my hand to get her attention and tried to sign to her that her food was getting cold, but she just gave me a filthy look and carried on concentrating on her one sided conversation. Her only contribution was the odd ‘rubbish’, the occasional ‘baloney’ and the sporadic ‘twaddle’ or two. I frowned at her as if to ask what was going on but she just glared back making it perfectly clear it was none of my business.
Call over, she stomped back to her chair, growled and stabbed a lump of cold chapatti with her fork. ‘Piffle’ she shouted.
A couple of chardonnays later, after she’s calmed down, I ventured to ask her what the call was about. She told me it was nothing, I said I knew it wasn’t and she said yes it was. After a while she mumbled something about a call from India. I jokingly asked her if was from the factory that had knocked up our microwave ready feast and she told me not to be silly. It went quiet for a while. I could see her brain working. She kept frowning and tipping her head on one side and screwing up her nose. Clearly something about the call was bugging her.
‘It was one of those nuisance calls you hear about’ she said, ‘you know the ones, someone calls from overseas and tells you have won something or you’ve been left money’. I asked if she was so certain it was a hoax, why was it playing on her mind. She told me to forget it. Obviously though, she wasn’t forgetting it.
Slowly piffle was turning to epiphany! Her eyes widened and I could see something was dawning on her. She asked me if I remembered her telling me about her grandfather. He’d owned a plantation in India back in the days of British rule. He said the land had been fertile for a thousand years. He’d told her that one day it would be hers. She thought he was joking. He’d died several years ago and left her enough money to set herself up in her apartment – with a bit of help from her parents of course! But there was no mention of a plantation, and in any case she’d forgotten about it.
Slowly but surely she began to tell me what she’d heard on the phone. By now she was pretty sure it was genuine. It seems that the plantation had been left in trust to her by her grandfather and the Indian law firm handling it was unable to trace her when she became of age. It was now being rented to a tenant and the rent owed to her had been building up for years. Not a lot of money by our standards of course, but not to be sniffed at.
So, how about that? As well as her little allotment in Eastbourne, she has a slightly bigger one in Rajasthan! When she suggested we get an Indian that night, she must have had a premonition about the call that was to interrupt it!
She said that our next takeout should be a Chinese! She said that land in China was getting more valuable by the day!

Rosey sees a ghost

2011-10-16T06:27:00.001-07:00

Rosey and I recently went down to Dorset to visit our friends Chas and his girlfriend Charley. Before they met each other, Chas was always known as Charlie. So when they got together one of them was going to have to take on new name! Chas hated his real name Charles, and Charlotte detested the name her parents had bestowed on her. A toss of a coin was deemed the fairest way to determine which one of them was to hang on to their name, and I had been asked to officiate over the proceedings. Hence our trip to their cottage in the West Country.

The cottage was so sweet; small, whitewashed and criss-crossed with ancient black beams. After we’d settled ourselves into our little rooms upstairs, we went down to join our friends for a glass of champagne in front of an inglenook fireplace. I knew it would only be a matter of time before Rosey asked if the cottage was haunted! After being told that three hundred years ago an old lady had died under mysterious circumstances in Rosey’s bedroom, I reluctantly agreed to swap rooms.

It was decided that we should adjourn to the Duck and Drake to carry out the battle of the names. It wasn’t far away, just up the lane, so we thought it best to walk. It was cold outside, very cold. Everything around had a coating of glistening white frost. It was such a relief to push open the creaking door of the pub to be greeted by a rush of warm air and the welcoming smell of beer!

We sank a round of drinks before getting down to the task in hand. I went to the bar to get another round and whilst I was doing so, Rosey went off to the loo. I took the drinks to the table and we waited for Rosey to return. On her way back she passed the bar just as the landlord was filling a glass from a bottle of chardonnay. Rosey called out a thank you, plucked the glass from the bar and took her place with us at our table. Just as she realised that she now had two glasses of wine in front of her, her eye was drawn to the bar where an elderly lay was asking the landlord where her glass of chardonnay had gone! I agreed to get the lady a replacement drink, then we got down to business. Charlie lost the toss and was duly renamed Chas, and Charley hung on to the name she loved!

After a few rounds we left the pub for our freezing walk back. Rosey spotted what she thought was an elaborate dog kennel in the pub garden and decided she wanted a closer look. We slowed down to allow her to investigate the little wooden building and she ran across the grass. Suddenly there was a splash, and there was Rosey up to knees in water with a couple of ducks paddling around her quacking loudly. It was an easy mistake to have made. It was dark and the pond was covered in green algae which made it look like grass. She looked back at us, giggled, and told us that it was not a kennel but a duck house!

We set off again, Rosey’s shoes squelching, and our breath white in winter air. As we were passing the churchyard, Rosey decided she needed a pee and could wait until we got back to the cottage. I pointed out that we were only a minute or so away, but she wouldn't wait; she just stood there with her legs crossed bobbing up and down. Better to be be safe than sorry she said. She stumbled through the gate and headed for the nearest gravestone to allow herself some privacy. Chas laughingly called out that last time he’d walked past the church he’d seen a ghost wandering between the graves. Rosey laughed and told him not to try and frighten her. A second later she screamed. Charley went rushing into the churchyard to find out what had happened – she thought Rosey had probably sat on a thistle or something.

She found Rosy, still squatting, chuckling to herself. It seems she’d just started relieving herself when she thought she saw a ghost out of the corner of her eye. She’d looked over her shoulder and realized it was steam!

The rest of the weekend was fun but uneventful. We left Chas( nee Charlie) and Charley (still Charley), and headed off back home to Eastbourne. I was determined not to tease her about her sighting in the churchyard; I thought I’d save it for when a bunch of us were together! I made do with a joke. I asked her what ghosts have for dinner. She gave me a funny look as if to say don’t be stupid, ghosts don’t eat. Then she sighed, and asked me what ghosts have for dinner. I told her ghoul-ash! She didn’t laugh.

Rosey's rowing boat

2011-10-16T06:26:00.001-07:00

Did I tell you about my friend Rosey’s boat? Well, her parents have a river running past the bottom of their garden. Actually, river is a bit of an exaggeration; it’s more like a fast flowing wide stream if you know what I mean. For years there was a little wooden rowing boat on the bank. Blue and white it was. In fact Rosey can’t remember a time when it wasn’t there but she’d never seen it afloat. Over the years grass had grown up all around it, and even a few plants had taken root inside. A few years ago a family of mice took up residence!

A couple of summers ago Rosey decided it would be fun to try and return it to the water. Her father assured her that the sad old boat was good for nothing but firewood, but undeterred she made it her holiday project.

She cut away the grass and flowers and found that the boat had been stood on bricks well off the ground, so that was good news. It looked pretty solid despite all those years of neglect. She picked herself a bunch of flowers from the plants growing inside before clearing it out and assessing how much work was to be required to get it sea worthy! The easiest way she thought, would be to plonk it in the water and see if its bottom was waterproof. After much huffing and puffing she managed to launch it into the stream. Immediately it decided to take off on its own leaving Rosey standing on the bank wondering what to do. Rather than aim straight ahead, the little boat bobbed up and down and turned broadside. This was fortunate because it straight away got caught by an overhanging branch which impeded its progress allowing Rosey time to rush the garden shed and grab a length of rope which she used to secure the craft to a stump.

On the face of it, it appeared that all that was required to bring the boat back to its former glory would be a couple of sheets of sandpaper, some paint and brushes. Little did she know! Just to make sure nothing further would be required she decided to step aboard and have a close inspection of the inside. Once aboard she stood for a moment or two with her arms spread and her knees buckled as she tried to balance. So far so good. Until that was, there was a loud crack and the heal of her shoe went straight through thedeck! She stood there for a moment wondering if it would have been more sensible to have worn flat shoes! It was when water began to swirl around her feet she thought it prudent to head for the shore and abandon ship. Once on terra ferma she set about dragging the boat back up the bank where she turned it upside down to inspect the damage and formulate a plan of action.

As far as she could make out, one the planks which made up the ‘hulk’ as she called it had become detached from those on either side. The solution surely would be to nail it back in place, and armed with a hammer and a handful of six-inchers she set about restoring the errant plank to its normal position. Now Roseys is not stupid. She realized that she would need a little more waterproofing and a short search of the shed was successful in providing her with a can of silicon. This she squirted it all around the repair before deciding that she could never consider a breast implant after seeing what silicon looked and smelt like!

Rosey remembered seeing old films of bottles of champagne being smashed against the side of ships when they were launched. It seemed like a good idea (even though she saw it done in the movie the Titanic a few days before it went under). But there was no way she was going to waste a whole bottle on her little boat, so she gave herself a well deserved plastic cup of bubbly before banging the bottle on the boat sending a bit of wood from the front flying up into the sky.It didn't look as if was particularly important so she changed into sensible shoes and commenced the grand re-floating. Armed with a small spade (she couldn’t find an oar) she once again clambered aboard and started to hop, very carefully, up and down to see how successful her repair had been. It was then she screamed. In retrospect six inch nails had not been the best choice, two inch ones would have been far more suitable and wouldn’t have stuck up through the floor waiting to be trodden on. After a few choice expletives she decided on a mind-over-matter approach to her injury. She still had her hammer with her so she bashed them down in order to avoid future accidents. All appeared to be satisfactory so she sat on the seat and untied the rope. Time to embark on her journey downstream.

As I said the water did flow fairly rapidly, and not in a straight line. It sort of swirled at the same time and despite Rosey’s best efforts with her improvised oar, she remained at the mercy of the wild eddy beneath her. It was as the boat was slowly spinning around she sensed her feet were getting wet. A bit late now, but it would probably have been a better idea if she'd bent the nails over rather than hammering them down. Now, the only progress she was making was downwards, so she decided to leap out of the floundering craft and just hope that the water wasn't too deep. She needn’t have worried as she landed on the stream's bed with a jolt; the water not even reaching her knees.

As she stood there wondering what unpleasant wriggling water creatures were swimming around her legs she decided that the whole idea was not, on balance, a good one. She’d save her fun afloat for when she meets a wealthy young man with a yacht!

A few months later on Guy Fawkes Night, Rosey stood with her parents watching a magnificent bonfire as fireworks hissed and crackled painting the sky with a palette of colour. And perched on top of the bonfire was the little blue and white rowing boat. Rosey’s Dad was right. It really did make very good firewood!

Rosey's reunion

2010-07-18T16:58:00.000-07:00

It wasn’t any old reunion. As reunions go it was a little different. Why? Because it was my friend Rosey’s reunion!

You see, she thought it would be nice to get together as many people as possible who’d had some influence over her colourful and not uneventful life. So, one Saturday in May a few of us, her current friends, got together at The Bicycle Arms to help her draw up a list. There she sat with a note pad in front of her and a pen in her hand, whilst we fired categories of acquaintances at her.

Could she still get in touch with her childhood friends? How about schoolmates from her very posh school, Roedean? A short but perfectly formed list was taking shape. How about people she’d worked with? Anyone from her time as a checkout girl at the superstore? She also thought it would be good to invite Lady Emilia Jameson and her husband Lord Somebody-or-Other Jameson. You may recall that she once ran a play group for posh toddlers at their posh stately home. Thinking about it, some of the kids would be ten or more years old by now. Perhaps she could invite some of them too. What about the staff at her Father’s car dealership? Not sure, they always felt she was a bit aloof being the privileged daughter of the boss, although Ted on the petrol pumps was always very friendly toward her.

She wondered if she should get in touch with Simon Pargitter Pratt. He was the blind date that she nearly got involved with a while back; it certainly was one of the funniest evenings we all spent together when he tried to impress her in front of a group of us! Probably not a good idea

She said she would love to bring over a few of the people she worked with in Africa last year, but we suggested it simply wouldn’t be practical or given their financial plight, affordable. That just left the school she works at now as a classroom assistant. We delicately pointed out that the idea of a reunion is to bring together people from way back, not those she saw yesterday and wiould in all probability see again next Monday. But she insisted and started reeling off names. The names all sounded quite youngish, and before long we realised they were children’s names not teachers! She said she’d far rather spend an evening with them even if they did have to be home by seven thirty!

So there we had it. We left her to go back through the volumes of diaries and address books she keeps in a pile by her bed and hopefully entice as many people as possible to the village hall close to her parent’s home on the chosen Saturday in June. Sadly she got few replies, so she decided to change the venue to somewhere cheaper, and those who had accepted her invitation were given a new venue, Rosey’s allotment!

On the big day, the twenty sixth it was, I helped her get some food for the buffet from the local store. As most of the respondents were little people, the fare consisted largely of chocolate cakes and jelly, although given Rosey’s taste in party food I suspect the selection would have been pretty much the same if the guest were all to have been pensioners!

Anyway, about twenty five people, plus our group of friends, duly turned up in our party gear at about five in the evening. She’d decorated the shed with balloons and paper chains and set up her ghetto blaster in the corner. There were cases of chardonnay and quite a few bottles of Coke. It all felt quite festive. Of the adult gests, a couple were from her schooldays, and two were previous work colleagues. There was also someone that even Rosey didn’t know, we never did find out where she fitted in but we didn’t question it as she helped swell the numbers. She’d also got old Bert along; you may remember that he owned the allotment before Rosey took over. Quite what he made of the transformation I don’t know because he just sat there looking bemused in his wheelchair until the nurse said it was time to wheel him home. We played party games and sang along to songs, and when the kids had gone home with their goodie-bags, those that remained sat on the floor chatting about the old times and downing Rosey’s wine well into the early hours of the morning.

As I said, it was an unusual reunion and certainly one we’ll never forget!

Imagine swapping lives with Rosey!

2010-07-03T14:37:00.000-07:00

Some people lead charmed lives. As babies they are smothered with ooo’s and aaah’s of admiration. During childhood they shimmer with an aura that leaves their peers cowering in the shade. Academic qualifications matter not. Who needs university degrees when personality propels one to heights of popularity, and opens doors which thinkers and academics can only lean on? I know such a person, Miss Rosemary Anne Pinkerton. My best friend who will be right now clamping her hand to an open mouth and spluttering as her cheeks flush with a customary 'rosey' glow!

I sometimes think I’d like to swap lives with her. Not just because she’s half my age, but due to the fact that she has in her hands a gift which she’s not even aware of. Not only is her world her oyster, it’s a diamond encrusted crustacean which in her naive and totally charming mind she’s yet to notice! But then again, such qualities in other hands could spoil the person.

As a child Rosey was blissfully blind to the hand she’d been dealt. It’s not uncommon for children to have imaginary friends and she was no exception and she created in her mind the person she would have liked to have been. But usually, imaginary mates fade away as real friendships develop and young people leave childish ways behind.

If you are a regular visitor to my little corner of Blogland you will not, I’m sure, be surprised to learn that my friend Rosey had a pretend friend when she was a nipper. She was girl called Candice. She started out the same age as Rosey, in fact she gave Candice the same birthday as her own (and mine by the way!) so she wouldn’t miss it, and each year they gave each other birthday cards! ! Candice was supposed to be left handed so that when she wrote, her handwriting would look markedly different from Rosey’s!

I didn’t know Rosey back then, but her parents still tease her about it at every available opportunity, usually in front of friends! What her parents don’t know is that Candice is still around, at least Rosey imagines she is! Somehow the years have not been as unkind to Candice because nowadays she seems to be ten years younger than thirty-one year old Rosey! Of course even Rosey wouldn't seriously believe he had an invisible friend. She just decided it would be fun to carry on with a pretend friend as a kind of unique personality feature!

She brings her up in conversation at regular intervals and the things she claims Candice has done are often outrageous and always hilarious! She particularly likes to mention her in front of people who aren’t in the joke, and it’s so funny to watch their faces as they hear about Candice's latest escapade! We, her close friends, have sworn a vow of secrecy to enable Rosey to have a little fun at every opportunity.

A few times this has caused problems for my friend Rosey! For instance, on one occasion a group of us were having a drink in the bar opposite Eastbourne Town Hall. As with most lunchtimes, there were quite a few 'booted and suited' local civil servants there lapping up a lunchtime libation. We were enjoying a bit of banter with a couple of them when Rosey mentioned that she had a friend called Candice living with her. The conversation then moved on to what our new found friends actually did behind those heavy oak doors over the road at the Town Hal,l and they told us that they worked in the department which deals with the local council tax which is levied on every property inside the town boundaries. Rosey was being her usual over friendly self and joked that although she was sharing her apartment with Cancice she was managing to get away with claiming the 25% discount enjoyed by single occupants (I actually enjoy that concession myself!). Alarm bells must have rung in the council workers heads and they somehow managed to find out exactly where Rosey lived with her friend! A few days later a tax inspector arrived on Rosey’s doorstep asking questions about the occupancy of the apartment. I think however Rosey had the last laugh when she explained that her so called confession was no more than a joke which was somehow taken seriously by a couple of overzealous council workers who really shouldn't have been indulging in alcoholic beverages half way through their working day.

As you know Rosey is quite keen on holding dinner parties. I told you about one that went pear-shaped a few weeks ago! What I’ve never mentioned is that she always lays a place for Candice! She doesn’t actually go as far as to plate up an extra meal, but Candice gets given a glass or two of wine which, needless to say, Rosey helps her to drink!

And whenever we have a drink together no matter where we are, we always raise our glasses to Rosey’s imaginary friend Candice.! So it’s cheers Candice, and bottoms up to my funny friend Rosey!If only I’d been you....... ah well!

Rosey's recipe

2010-05-16T13:19:00.000-07:00

My friend Rosey asked five of us to her pad for lunch. I remember that she’d been given a recipe by our mate Bernie for something called Prenez Garde de ce plat Eclate. He’d suggested she have a go at it. He was the first to arrive that memorable Sunday morning and he greeted us with a glass of plonk and a suspiciously knowing smile. Rosey was slaving away in the kitchen, wooden spoon in one hand and a glass of Chardonnay in the other.

It was one of those meals where everyone contributed something – Rosey had more than enough to do preparing the main course. I made some mushroom pate with which to start the feast and someone else had made a spotted dick and custard. Bernie brought wine, and a selection of cheeses appeared courtesy of one of the girls.When Rosey’s creation was safely in the oven we all took our seats and got started on my pate.

When we’d finished Rosey looked at her watch, squinted, then looked again before declaring that the Prenez Garde de ce plat Eclate was probably ready.Bernie took advantage of the space between courses to go out into the garden for a cigarette from where he watched Rosey through the kitchen window with a rapidly broadening grin on his face.

Well, I thought a bomb had landed! There was an enormous bang and the sound of a breaking window pane. We all jumped out of seats and Bernie dived for cover as shards of glass flew into the garden. Fuzzybutt and Scruff shot across the room and launched themselves into their basket. Rosey staggered into the room holding a half empty dish in her oven-gloved hands. Her face was blackened with smoke dust and she was wearing most of the main course all over her apron. It seems that just as she was about to open the oven, her creation exploded blowing the door off and shattering the kitchen window.

Needless to say Bernie was suitably chastened by what had just happened. Fortunately Rosey saw the funny side of it and started to giggle. In no time at all everyone was in fits of laughter. Even Bernie had a rueful smile on his guilt ridden face! He knew that the recipe was designed to explode, but not quite in the way it did. But then Rosey is never one to measure ingredients so it’s more than likely she put ten times as much of the offending constituent in than she was meant to! Interestingly, although a couple of us ncluding Rosey could speak French, no one realised that Prenez Garde de ce plat Eclate translates as Beware this Dish Explodes!

Grow old with Rosey? I think not!

2010-01-18T14:51:00.000-08:00

She’s gone! Rosey is back in Africa. She’s only been gone a few days, but I miss her already. She was uncharacteristically emotional at the airport. She was very quiet and didn’t seem to want to talk. We were having a coffee while she was waiting for her flight to be called, and she just sat there holding her cup in both hands and staring into the cappuccino foam. I think it had occurred to her that she was alone, single, whilst many of the friends that surrounded her were in relationships. I may be wrong, I certainly wouldn’t put my theory to her, but that was the feeling I got. She said that we were both in the same situation and that was why we got on so well. She told me how much she valued and needed our friendship and that she wanted us to grow old together. She told me that the best was yet to come! That was the point that I broke into a smile. She gave me a quizzical look, cocked her head on one side and asked what I found so amusing. I reminded her that I was 35 years older than her, and in most people’s eyes I’m already old! When she reached my age I told her, I’d be almost 100 years old and she’d be pushing me around in a wheelchair with one of her famous knitted blankets over my knees!

I think that her Christmas trip home showed her how much she was missed by her friends, and how important her friendship is to our group. I must say that life is very different without her, but during those three weeks when she was back it was business at its hilarious usual!

So many funny things happened. She became a kid again in the snow. She was telling us about her walk in the park when she joined some children having a snowball fight. She is pretty poor at throwing balls and one went well astray. The wig–wearing Reverend Roger Cross (known to the kids of the choir as The Old Rug-head Cross!) was passing by walking his little dog, Pontius the poodle. Rosey’s snowball hit him right on the back of his head sending his hairpiece sliding down over his eyes! Rosey hid behind a tree. He turned to the kids, pushed his hair back and swore at them! Honestly! Then he clasped his hand over his mouth and uttered a few muffled yet penitential words up to heaven!

Then there was the afternoon we were in a china shop. Actually, it was the china department in a department store. Rosey wanted to get her parents a figurine. They had collected shelves full of them, mainly brought back from foreign holidays. You know the kind of thing; pottery Taj Mahals and porcelain Eiffel towers. In typical Rosey style she had accidentally swept their china model of a charging Spanish bull onto the floor whilst waving a red scarf at it. Anyway, she found one in the shop, a perfect replacement. She spun round to call me over forgetting that she had a rucksack strapped to her back. Crash! Bull, china shop, Rosey. What a combination!

You may remember that for Christmas 2009 Rosey knitted us all phone socks, little woollen bags for our cell phones. As wool was something of a scarcity in Africa she was unable to make us the scarves or hot bottle covers as she originally intended. However, she decided to set to work on my knitted present as soon as she got back home. I’d mentioned that I get very cold hands whilst working, as I do in shopping malls. She decided that I needed a pair of gloves. Now I imagine that gloves are fairly complicated things to knit, certainly they must take quite a while to make. They did I understand, take longer than expected so in order to get them ready for Christmas she came up with a plan. She made the right glove exactly as you’d expect, four fingers and a thumb. Perfect because I could still write and use my calculator. Then time ran short so the left hand glove became a mitten! Not just any mitten, this one had no thumb! In fact it looked very much like last year’s phone sock! Bless.

I could go on but I’ll save the rest for another day. Right now I imagine she’s doing what she does best. She’s probably sitting in her little African school surrounded by wide-eyed children as she tells them tales and sings them songs. She’ll be back in April. I for one can’t wait.

The football final

2009-12-29T09:01:00.000-08:00

I love Rosey dearly but sometimes she can be so damn childish.

A couple of our friends begged us for our support on Sunday because they were playing in a football match down on the green. Village footie is not very well supported, so the more people there to cheer them on the better!

So off I went with Rosey with our friend Amanda in tow. Now our mates take their Sunday football very seriously and this week they were playing in the final of the Sussex Inter-village Cup. It was quite an achievement for them to get that far.

We stood along the touchline with a crowd of bored looking wives and girlfriends who shivered and chattered without even glancing at the battle being fought out by their loved ones. I don’t know what Rosey and Amanda were finding so funny but I got the feeling they were hatching some kind of plot.There was about ten minutes to go and the score was nil nil. One of the players kicked the ball out of touch and it rolled towards the girls.I just knew what was about to happen.It was my worst nightmare.

Rosey and Amanda took control of the Ball and started running away from the pitch kicking it to each other whilst almost hysterical with laughter.I was SO embarrassed. I tried pretending that they weren’t with me.‘Come on lads’ shouted one of the blue team, and with that all twenty two players thundered off the pitch and went in pursuit of Rosey and Amanda. I have to admit it was a funny sight. The girls were so skillful. They were passing the ball back and forth and running, twisting and turning whilst leaving the boys confused, exhausted and in total disarray!

Then they started heading back in the direction of the pitch leaving the players gasping for breath.‘Now’ shouted Rosey. They were twenty yards from the goal. Amanda sent the ball high into the sky, and as it began its decent Rosey leapt into the air and with a flick of her head she butted it straight into the net!

Suddenly there was an enormous cheer from the wives and girlfriends who had suddenly found football the greatest game on earth.Although the game resumed, Rosey's goal remained the only one scored all afternoon. As a result the contest will have to be re-played next Sunday. You will not be surprised to learn that as a result of their prank Rosey and Amanda have been barred from attending.

Rosey goes veggie - again!

2009-03-14T15:33:00.000-07:00

My friend Rosey has decided to have another go at being vegetarian.

Someone told her that a secret cult in the village of Nether Wallop ritually slaughter and then ate kittens. She took one look at her cats Fuzzybut and Scruff staring up at her with their big blue eyes and thought ‘Yuck, they must taste awful’

Anyway I reminded her that if God had intended us to be vegetarian he would not have made cows from beef, but my remark fell on deaf ears.

I’ve just got back from her flat where she has once again dusted off her old pots of pills and supplements and lined them up on the kitchen shelf where her biscuits and sweets used to reside.
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I told her that all she needed to do was to make sure she ate plenty of eggs, whole-grain cereals, pulses, green leafy vegetables, fruit like oranges and fortified breakfast cereals. I know about these things because my daughter Penny is of the vegetarian persuasion.

But no. She says she won’t drink milk or eat eggs. So I asked her if she was actually a vegan. She thought about it for a minute and then asked me if vegans were vegetarians too! I said yes, of course and she laughed and asked if I thought she had pointed ears like Mr.Spock. Vegans I said, not Vulcans!

Meanwhile back on the shelf she has a pot of multi-vitamin pills called Osteotrace which lists amongst its ingredients horsetail, vitamin E tablets to make her look younger (why? don’t ask me!!) something called Selenium with the byline ‘good mood food’ plus various other tubs tins and assorted jars.

And right in the middle was a large tin with no label. I picked it up and shook it and she said she had to take eighteen a day – six in the morning, six in the afternoon and six in the evening. I asked what on earth they were and she said M&M’s! Chocolate she tells me is good for increasing her energy levels!
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Rosey, I know you are reading this and you’ll probably tell me off for teasing you! In a couple of weeks time I’ll take you out for a big juicy steak by way of an apology.

He's not the one for Rosey

2009-01-20T12:43:00.000-08:00

I thought it was a silly idea. The last thing Rosey needs right now is a relationship. I suppose you could say that I’m being a bit possessive, not wanting to lose a mate from our happy band of friends, but I honestly believe that she has quite enough going on her life right now to keep her fully occupied.
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Anyway, her work colleagues arranged for her to meet a young man whom they thought would make the perfect boyfriend. Rosey asked a few of our circle of friends to go along to give her moral support.

He arrived late – not a good start, and was clearly a little taken aback to find her sitting with four assorted friends!

He introduced himself as one Simon Pargiter-Pratt. In his hand he held a bunch of wilting flowers.He was a lanky, rather awkward looking young man whom I assumed to be in his late twenties.

There he stood every bit the country squire in a pair of camel trousers, an Oxford check shirt, university tie and a fine tweed jacket. You could see your reflection in his chestnut brown brogues.However his boyish and somewhat blotchy complexion made him look a fair bit younger, and judging by the bum-fluff on his chin it appeared quite possible that he’d not yet felt the need to start shaving!

It seems he had recently qualified as a vet and joined a local practice with the unlikely name of Nine Lives.

Simon proffered his hand, and just as Rosey was about to give it a shake she recoiled and said ‘I’d rather not; I don’t know where it’s been!’

At least that broke the ice. Simon dissolved into laughter –he sort of went ‘hwa-hwa-hwa’ - and we laughed along!

Rosey quickly realised that witty banter could well be the way forward, and when Simon asked about her family she said ‘I am the youngest of three, my parents are both older than me!’

‘hwa-hwa-hwa’

‘And’ said Rosey ‘My family is mixed race – my father does the hundred metres but my mother prefers the relay!’

‘hwa-hwa- hwa’

By now we were all laughing along, and Rosey had everyone in the palm of her hand. But I know Rosey well enough to realise that she was using her amusing repartee to disguise the fact that she was not in the least bit interested in Mr Pargiter-Pratt!

I decided that perhaps I should take over the conversation and get our new friend to talk about his calling.

‘So Simon’ I said ‘What have you been vetting this afternoon?’

‘hwa-hwa-hwa-hwa, vetting, I like that’ he guffawed.

‘Actually Kev, I was looking at a problem which has occurred within a couple of Carinthian Blondviehs. The poor creatures caught coccidiosis’

‘Sounds very interesting, doesn’t it Kev?’ said Rosey looking at me with a half grin on her face. ‘Do tell us more’

‘Well’ started Simon ‘Typical signs of coccidiosis are diarrhea, rough coat, loss of appetite and weight, and general emaciation. The general weakness may cause the calf to defecate without rising, thus soiling its tail and hindquarters. In more severe cases the manure may contain blood, mucus, and stringy masses of tissue’

‘I’m sure my Grannie died of that’ said Rosey with sad look on her face.

‘Actually Rosemary’ said Simon ‘this particular condition is confined to bovine species, and unless your Grandmother was a cow.....’‘

She could be at times!’ interrupted Rosey and with that we all broke into uncontrollable laughter.

I have to say, I felt sorry for Rosey’s prospective suitor. We tried to involve him in some light conversation but it was clear he found our bar-room banter somewhat trivial.

He meant well, but he simply was not, nor would he ever be one of us. He realised that things would never go any further, and with a somewhat crestfallen look he thanked us for our company and bid us all farewell.

‘It wouldn’t have worked’ said Rosey. I mean can you imagine me being called Rosemary Pinkerton-Pargiter- Pratt? What a mouthful!’
'
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Resolutionary Rosey

2009-01-20T12:33:00.000-08:00

Just after Christmas a few of us met for a drink at The Bike. For once Rosey turned up on time – our time that is, not hers!

We told her to be there at seven although we actually didn’t intend getting there until eight, and she was duly sitting there when we arrived!‘

You are late!’ she shrilled. We just gave each other a knowing smile.

She had in fact been there twenty minutes and whilst waiting she’d accepted a chardonnay or two from a couple of locals.Actually she was a little wobbly and when she came to meet us and she had forgotten she was sitting on a high stool rather than a low chair. Consequently she almost fell flat on her face!

‘Bugga’ she said‘Rosey’ said I.

‘What’ said Rosey‘

I wish you wouldn’t use such un-ladylike expletives’ said I

‘Sowwie’ said Rosey resting her chin on her finger and putting on her well practiced innocent-little-girl expression.

Anyway we talked about this and that and then suddenly, with a flourish deserving of a thespian, she produced a crumpled piece of paper from her overstuffed suitcase sized handbag.

‘These’ she proclaimed ‘are my New Year resolutions’

When the laughter calmed down we realised she was serious. She read somewhere that a good way to help yourself stick to your resolutions is to write them down, show them to your friends and get them to witness your promises with their signatures. We commented that for once she seemed really organised, and with that she pointed to resolution one – be more organised!

Unfortunately she forgot to bring a pen!

Number two was always be on time, three drink less, four be less clumsy, and five stop swearingWe borrowed a writing implement from the bar tender and each made a scribble which more or less represented our signature – Amanda drew a cross !I

It then occurred to us that she’d broken each and every one of them in the hour or so we’d been there, so how she was going to manage in the new year we couldn’t imagine!

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*

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We went to the Bulls Head to see in the New Year. Four of us were sat around a little round table right by the log fire. Rosey was late. Fashionably late she called it when she arrived.

She drank a little more than usual, knocked over my pint and cursed quietly hoping not to be heard.'

Resolutions Rosey?' I said

‘It’s not midnight yet!’ she giggled

‘It is now’ I said as Big Ben chimed in 2009.

Everybody wanted to give Rosey a kiss, so she decided to work her way around the pub employing a logical and organised route.

It went wrong. Some got three kisses, some none! Resolution one off to a rocky start!

She barged her way from person to person completely unaware that beer and wine was sploshing everywhere in her wake.

So much for resolution four.

Number three had gone straight out of the window, but then everyone was having a little too much to drink tonight.

Resolution two was no problem, although it could be argued that she was a little late offering to buy a round of drinks!‘

So that’s four of your resolutions broken Rosey’ I laughed.
‘Just number five to go’

‘Oh ****** the revolutions’ she yelled ‘who’s round is it?’
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Rosey strikes agan

2009-01-20T12:28:00.000-08:00

I was standing at the bar ordering a round of drinks and Rosey came to help me carry them back to the table. Next to us stood a girl with her fella’.

Anyway, Rosey being the friendly sort, looked at the girls expansive middle and asked ’When is it due?’

With that, the poor girls eyes filled with what Rosey assumed were tears of joy. Then she looked at Rosey and spluttered ‘Why do people keep asking me that? I am trying to lose weight, I really am’.

With that the tearful young lady scurried away with her boyfriend scrambling to keep up. Rosey was mortified and suggested she catch up with them and apologise, but I told her it would be best if she let it be. She would probably have dug herself in the mire even deeper!
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Come to think of it, something similar to this happened once before. She saw a somewhat rotund young lady who clearly liked to stand out from the crowd by wearing bright clothes and extreme makeup. As I remember she was wearing an orange and white check top over a pair of baggy grass-green trousers. Rosy looked at her and said ‘Don’t tell me.....you are ....Humpty Dumpty Sat on a Wall’.

The girl looked perplexed. ‘I beg your pardon? She asked.
‘You are going to a fancy dress party.... aren’t you?’ said Rosey.

Anyway, back at the table with our gang, conversation centred on diets, weight and the highly fashionable term Body Mass Index! Rosey, after her embarrassing mistake was in a world of her own, so I tried to bring her in by asking her what her BMI was. She looked at me as if I was stupid and said ‘It’s a Mercedes silly, you know that’.

She suddenly came alive as she saw the chance to start a discussion on her favourite topic of the moment, her proposed new car!
.
Regular readers will know that Rosey currently drives a Mercedes SLK sports job in pale lilac courtesy of her father who owns a Merc dealership. Well, Daddy decided it would be a good move in the current economic climate if his darling daughter downsized to one of those little Smart cars. And she is so excited!

She said she saw one in pink and white the other day and on the back a sign said powered by fairy dust. We explained that it was just a pretty bumper sticker, nothing more. She thought for a moment then said ‘I know – I’m not stupid’. Then she said ‘the other day when you said Sally’s car ran on angels breath – that was a joke too, wasn’t it?’
.
Anyway, a little later the girl and her boyfriend came over to us. She said she was sorry for snapping at Rosey and in no time at all we were all chatting as if we’d known each other for years.

And it was then that Rosey saw a rather unfortunate spot on the end of the girls nose..........
'

Roseys finest hour

2009-01-20T12:24:00.000-08:00

I think I’ve mentioned before that my friends and I enjoy nothing more than participating in pub quizzes. For the uninitiated, these battles of wit and wisdom are a popular feature of pub life. Teams huddle in groups around tables and attempt to gain the highest number of correct answers to trivia questions with the aim of winning a meagre monetary prize.

We all give ourselves names which we consider amusing. Last week we went to the Red Lion to play against a bunch of nurses going by the name Bedside Manners, a team from the local lawyer’s office called Brief Encounter and five other assorted hopefuls. We were representing our local, The Bicycle and we go by name of Chain Reaction. Get it?

Well, we got off to an inauspicious start. We were pretty useless in the music round, lost for answers in the history section and a bit adrift in general knowledge. Throughout it all, my friend Rosey sat looking thoughtful, and wearing a pair of her mother’s glasses which she thinks makes her look super intelligent and intimidates our competitors. Unfortunately she can see very little through them and ended up knocking my drink over and talking at length to vase of flowers which she mistook for one of our friends.

But then something remarkable happened. We had a round of word questions, and suddenly Rosey was in her element.

Question – what is the longest word in the English dictionary? Rosey leapt to her feet and yelled ‘antidisestablishmentarian’. Our initial amazement and delight was soon quelled when we realised she had given the correct answer to every team in the bar!

Anyway, someone called out ‘Bet you can’t tell us what it means then Rosey’ to which she replied ‘they were people who were opposed to proposals to remove the Church of England’s status as the official religion of the realm’ That wiped the smiles off their faces!

She then went on to say that the longest word in the English language has 1906 letters, but it’s a technical expression which does not qualify for inclusion in the dictionary.
.
Question – spell millennium. Rosey whispered her answer. I for one said she was wrong, but it was me that was incorrect!

Question – what is at the top of the left hand column of page 168 of the Oxford English Dictionary? Rosey was on the ball again ‘one six eight’ she hissed. A trick question, and of course she was right again! And so it went on. Ten word questions and ten correct answers from Rosey.
.
Then it was back to general knowledge and Roseys moment of glory was over.

Question – What is the King of Swaziland called? Rosey answered ‘Your Majesty?’ Wrong Rosey, the answer is King Mswati the third.

We didn’t win. We never do, but at least we are consistent as once again we came last! Rosey’s final word on words was to point out that the shortened form of World Wide Web somewhat ironically has three times the number of syllables!
'

She shouldn't have said that!

2009-01-01T16:21:00.000-08:00

I was standing at the bar ordering a round of drinks and Rosey came to help me carry them back to the table. Next to us stood a girl with her fella’.

Anyway, Rosey being the friendly sort, looked at the girls expansive middle and asked ’When is it due?’ With that, the poor girls eyes filled with what Rosey assumed were tears of joy. Then she looked at Rosey and spluttered ‘Why do people keep asking me that? I am trying to lose weight, I really am’.

With that the tearful young lady scurried away with her boyfriend scrambling to keep up. Rosey was mortified and suggested she catch up with them and apologise, but I told her it would be best if she let it be. She would probably have dug herself in the mire even deeper!

Come to think of it, something similar to this happened once before. She saw a somewhat rotund young lady who clearly liked to stand out from the crowd by wearing bright clothes and extreme makeup. As I remember she was wearing an orange and white check top over a pair of baggy grass-green trousers. Rosy looked at her and said ‘Don’t tell me.....you are ....Humpty Dumpty Sat on a Wall’. The girl looked perplexed. ‘I beg your pardon? She asked. ‘You are going to a fancy dress party.... aren’t you?’ said Rosey.

Anyway, back at the table with our gang, conversation centred on diets, weight and the highly fashionable term Body Mass Index! Rosey, after her embarrassing mistake was in a world of her own, so I tried to bring her in by asking her what her BMI was. She looked at me as if I was stupid and said ‘It’s a Mercedes silly, you know that’.

She suddenly came alive as she saw the chance to start a discussion on her favourite topic of the moment, her proposed new car!

Regular readers will know that Rosey currently drives a Mercedes SLK sports job in pale lilac courtesy of her father who owns a Merc dealership. Well, Daddy decided it would be a good move in the current economic climate if his darling daughter downsized to one of those little Smart cars. And she is so excited!

She said she saw one in pink and white the other day and on the back a sign said powered by fairy dust. We explained that it was just a pretty bumper sticker, nothing more. She thought for a moment then said ‘I know – I’m not stupid’.

Then she said ‘the other day when you said Sally’s car ran on angels breath – that was a joke too, wasn’t it?’

Anyway, a little later the girl and her boyfriend came over to us. She said she was sorry for snapping at Rosey and in no time at all we were all chatting as if we’d known each other for years. And it was then that Rosey saw a rather unfortunate spot on the end of the girls nose..........

My word!

2009-01-01T16:18:00.000-08:00

I think I’ve mentioned before that my friends and I enjoy nothing more than participating in pub quizzes.

For the uninitiated, these battles of wit and wisdom are a popular feature of pub life. Teams huddle in groups around tables and attempt to gain the highest number of correct answers to trivia questions with the aim of winning a meagre monetary prize. We all give ourselves names which we consider amusing. Last week we went to the Red Lion to play against a bunch of nurses going by the name Bedside Manners, a team from the local lawyer’s office called Brief Encounter and five other assorted hopefuls. We were representing our local, The Bicycle and we go by name of Chain Reaction. Get it?

Well, we got off to an inauspicious start. We were pretty useless in the music round, lost for answers in the history section and a bit adrift in general knowledge. Throughout it all, my friend Rosey sat looking thoughtful, and wearing a pair of her mother’s glasses which she thinks makes her look super intelligent and intimidates our competitors. Unfortunately she can see very little through them and ended up knocking my drink over and talking at length to vase of flowers which she mistook for one of our friends.

But then something remarkable happened. We had a round of word questions, and suddenly Rosey was in her element.

Question – what is the longest word in the English dictionary? Rosey leapt to her feet and yelled ‘antidisestablishmentarian’. Our initial amazement and delight was soon quelled when we realised she had given the correct answer to every team in the bar! Anyway, someone called out ‘Bet you can’t tell us what it means then Rosey’ to which she replied ‘they were people who were opposed to proposals to remove the Church of England’s status as the official religion of the realm’ That wiped the smiles off their faces! She then went on to say that the longest word in the English language has 1906 letters, but it’s a technical expression which does not qualify for inclusion in the dictionary.
.
Question – spell millennium. Rosey whispered her answer. I for one said she was wrong, but it was me that was incorrect!

Question – what is at the top of the left hand column of page 168 of the Oxford English Dictionary? Rosey was on the ball again ‘one six eight’ she hissed. A trick question, and of course she was right again! And so it went on. Ten word questions and ten correct answers from Rosey.
.
Then it was back to general knowledge and Roseys moment of glory was over.

Question – What is the King of Swaziland called? Rosey answered ‘Your Majesty?’ Wrong Rosey, the answer is King Mswati the third.

We didn’t win. We never do, but at least we are consistent as once again we came last! Rosey’s final word on words was to point out that the shortened form of World Wide Web somewhat ironically has three times the number of syllables!
'

Rosey style

2009-01-01T16:13:00.000-08:00

We usually meet for a drink once a week, about six or so of us. Well, one day while we were sitting chatting, Rosey produced from her bag a pair of knitting needles and a ball of wool! We were gobsmacked!

She told us that she had secretly been receiving knitting lessons from her Gran. She had already made a scarf and a sock! We asked what she was about to start making and she pulled a crumpled pattern from her bag. On the front was a picture of a – how can I put it kindly? – a rather ‘mumsy’ cardigan.

Well, she started knitting, stopping every 10 seconds or so to take a slurp from her large glass of chardonnay. It was a sight for sore eyes! She was getting in such a muddle, but credit where credit’s due, she persevered and by the end of the evening she had produced a few inches of knitting.

Well, this went on week after week. She made a back, two bits of front, and some sleeves. And then it was complete. One Friday in November – the 8th it was, I’ll never forget the date, she strode into the pub walking like a model and wearing her latest creation. We didn’t know what to say.

One of us had to say something, so our friend Jack piped up ‘That really is your style Rosey!’ She was thrilled.

It was an interesting garment. One sleeve was a little longer than the other, but that didn’t matter. In fact the whole thing was a little lop-sided but we said nothing. There were bits of wool dangling here and there – maybe we were meant to be, but I suspect not!
]
And that is what set of one of the funniest things that ever happened to Rosey!

We were sitting enjoying a drink when Rosey announced she was off to the ladies room. Well, she stood up and one of the strands of wool got trapped in the back of the chair! We didn’t notice at first, or we would have stopped her, but as she set off the strand remained trapped and the cardy started unravelling!

The pub was packed and Rosey had to walk around and between lots of tables and had to weave her way in and out of the people crowded around the bar. She did whatever she went to do, then set off on her journey back, but this time she took a different route weaving between different folk and different tables. And all the time the Cardigan was unravelling!

By the time she got back everyone in the pub was joined together by yards of pink wool! It was like a giant human macrame. When she sat down she had no idea what we were laughing at. She hadn’t noticed that her cardigan had shrunk to the size of a bolero! The sight of so many people twisting and turning to disentangle themselves is something I’ll never forget.

Fortunately Rosey saw the funny side of it then admitted that actually she didn’t think the cardigan was her style after all!
'
'

Rosey is back fron her holiday

2008-10-14T15:52:00.000-07:00

Several of you have asked me what's happening with my friend Rosey. Well, I hadn’t seen Rosey for quite a while. You will recall that she works as a teaching assistant in a local school, and one of the perks of the job is a long summer break. She decided to spend the summer with an old school chum who now lives in France in the beautiful city of Toulouse. And now she's back!
.
Rosey says that that her friend told her the name of their city is French for Two Loos (loo being the English slang for toilet) and she seems to find it funny that there are at least 6 public conveniences in the town, far more than the name would suggest! I suggested that her friend was probably teasing her. She gave me one of her head-on-one-side looks, and then broke into a smile. No words, just a smile!
.
‘So’ she said after a while ‘isn't Nice called Nice because it’s nice? Or Brest called Brest because of a perfectly formed round hill in the city centre?’
.
‘I don’t think so’ I said.
.
It’s at times like this that I sometimes wonder if the joke is on me – it’s me that’s being teased!
.
I’d like to think not.
.
She was full of tales of her vacation, too many for me to relate here. She is threatening to write a story about it. I promised I’d publish it here if she does. I hope it’s a promise I won’t live to regret.
.
She told me that she spent some time talking to a flight attendant on the plane home. I jokingly said ‘What, a tart with a cart, a dolly with a trolley?’ She wrinkled her nose, frowned and said ‘No, a flight attendant’ then looked at me as if I were stupid!
.
During their conversation it seems the subject of breaking wind in confined spaces came up! Rosey learned that one never encounters unpleasant odours during a flight because of carbon pads built into the seat bases. She asked me if I thought it was true. I said I thought it was perfectly feasible.
.
I said to Rosey that I'm certain she would never fart on a plane.
.
'Of course not' she said. 'Polite women only do ladypuffs'
.
Then suddenly her serious face traded places with her comical one and I realised a joke was on its way!
.
‘Why’ she asked ‘do British Airways aeroplanes never have babies?’
..
‘I don’t know’ I said. ‘Why do BA planes never have babies?’
.
‘Because British Airways always pull out on time’ she said.
.
As with all Rosey’s jokes I can’t be sure that she actually got it herself. But I laughed and she laughed and that’s all that matters.

A few of Rosey's gems

2008-09-04T16:19:00.000-07:00

A friend and I were talking about the gems our friend Rosey comes out with sometimes. I was remembering the time I went to the park with her to feed the ducks.

She came out with a few of her favourite duck jokes. What time does a duck wake up? At the quack of dawn! How do you get down from a duck? On a ladder! Actually she admits that she doesn’t see what’s funny about the second one, but she tells it over and over again because it gets a good laugh! Then she asked me what you call the cat that swallowed a duck. I said I didn’t know, and she told me it was ‘a fat duck filled pus’. I told her I thought that maybe she had got the answer wrong, and the correct one was probably a ‘duck-filled fatty-pus’. She doesn’t understand that one either!

Actually I told her a joke which I thought she might get. There was a shepherd driving along when suddenly he saw the road was blocked. A policeman came up to him and said ‘can you make a U-turn?’ to which the shepherd replied ‘give me five minutes and I’ll make her eyes water’. She didn’t understand of course even when I explained that the shepherd had thought the policeman said ‘ewe’ not U.

Anyway, I digress. There we were throwing bits of bread into the water when suddenly we were approached by a very jolly girl with a huge grin on her face. Actually her face reminded me of a kid’s picture of a smiling sun except that it was pink with very flushed round cheeks. Her ginger hair was in two bunches and she had enormous blue eyes which looked even bigger through her huge round glasses! So as I said, she came up to us then flung her arms in the air and said ‘Hallelujah, I found Jesus’ to which a startled Rosey said ‘Oh good, where was he?’

She does however sometimes come out with some interesting observations. For instance, when we were enjoying a well deserved libation in the Stag Inn the other day she looked at the preserved head of a stag mounted on a wooden shield which hangs on the wall above the fireplace. Such trophies are commonplace around these parts. Rosey asked why it’s considered quite normal to display a dead stags head but not one of your favourite pet dog or your deceased pony. I have to admit that had never occurred to me.

And then there was the time that she purchased a china ornament to send as a birthday present to her aging aunt. It was a hideous thing. Rosey was pretty sure it was a cat, but I reckoned it looked more like a rat. Well, as it was fragile she had to encase it in bubble wrap before parcelling it up and mailing it. She was horrified at the amount she was charged to send it. As we walked down the street we came across a girl selling helium filled balloons with were straining skyward. That made her think. She suggested that if the wrapping she had just used had bubbles filled with helium instead of air her package would have weighed a lot less! So I said to her that if she invented a bra filled with helium, not only would she have increased assets, but she would probably weigh less too!

I then somewhat unwisely moved on to the theory that none of us weighs anything at all. The figure we see when we hop on the scales is merely a measurement of the downward pressure on our body mass caused by gravity, which is why in a zero gravity environment, bodies float weightlessly in the air. I could tell by the puzzled expression on her face that I had completely lost her!

I remember the last thing she said to me that day. It was rather sweet and very Rosey. She said ‘Every day is a gift. That’s why we call it the present.
.

A lone voice

2008-08-26T14:15:00.000-07:00

It was pouring with rain. Or as Rosey put it, it was ‘hissing down’. She never understood why we laughed at her when she said that! She heard someone say it in the pub and didn’t realise that it was actually the polite version of an impolite expression!
'
Anyway, she was walking past the cathedral, soaking wet, and thought it would be the perfect opportunity to find out what secrets hid within that enormous grey building. The door creaked as she pushed it open. It closed itself behind her with a loud clonk which reverberated around the gloomy open space.
'
Her footstep clattered as she walked up the south aisle, and the glow of pastel coloured light flooded the areas around the ancient stained glass windows.
'
She let out a sudden little sneeze. She only did little sneezes, but this one came back at her again and again and again! Her pretty face lit up. Then she clapped. Just a gentle clap, and a second later she heard it repeated from behind, then in front and then from above.
'
She wandered into the quire and sat down in the candlelit wooden stalls. There were sheets of music in neat little piles in front of each seat. Suddenly Rosey had an overwhelming desire to sing! After all she always sounded reasonable when they set the echo up high on the karaoke at the pub – she never understood why they did it though– and the echo here was just amazing!

‘All things bright and beautiful....’ then she stopped and listened to her voice travelling around and around.
'
Then she got more adventurous.
'
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah- hallelujah- halal-ey-ey-ey-oo-u-lah! Wow this was great.
.
Then it occurred to her that she might be able to sing a ‘round’ with herself using her echo as her fellow singers.
.
Frère Jacques,Frère Jacques,Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous?

Wonderful! As she sung the third line the first one came back and harmonised with her!

The she became aware of another voice. This couldn’t be hers. It was far too deep! In swished a man in a flowing black cassock singing -
'
Sonnez les matines. Sonnez les matines. Din, din, don.Din, din, don
'
Rosey suddenly wished the ground would open up beneath her!

'‘That was lovely young lady’ said the priest. How about we sing this one together?
.
Row, row, row your boat.
Gently down the stream.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily.
Life is but a dream.
'
I don’t how long they sang for, but I know had a jolly good time!

Blooming Rosey!

2008-08-25T12:10:00.000-07:00

When Rosey was a child she had a little corner of her father’s garden which she called her own. There she used to dig with her little pink trowel, sow seeds and water her flowers. Best of all was finding beetles and wriggly things like worms which she cut in half because someone told her it would make two smaller ones!
'
Like most villages the one she lived in had a horticultural society, and Roseys mother was well and truly in charge. And every late summer, all the villagers would come together for the highlight of the social calendar – the annual flower, vegetable and produce show. There was of course a children’s section where all the local kids would display their vases of flowers and pumpkins. No one ever complained when Rosey won first prize, it was sort of expected, and it made her father, the head judge very proud.

Now, ten or so years later, Rosey lives in a little flat and gardening is just a happy memory. At least we thought it was, but a few weeks ago Rosey surprised us all by announcing that she was once again tilling the soil in her little garden back at her parents’ home. Not only that, but she had been quietly nurturing all manner of blooms and vegetables which she intended entering in the annual show!

Well, the show took place a few days ago. In the centre of the village green stood a splendid white marquee and once inside the senses were assaulted by the most glorious smells and dazzling sights. I spotted Rosey resplendent in a long baggy flower print dress and rubber gardening boots all topped off with a rustic straw hat encircled by wild flowers. She couldn’t wait to show me her entries, and I have to say I was very impressed. At least I was until she showed me her carrot entry. There in the middle of a row of perfectly formed specimens sat Rosey’s carrot. I have to say I was a little taken aback! It had an uncanny resemblance to gentlemen’s – how shall I say – genetalia. I told her she should remove it before the good ladies of the judging panel arrived. But she refused. It didn’t win, but I’ll never forget the looks on the faces of the judges!

Anyway, she didn’t gain any first prizes, but her sweet peas got ‘highly commended’, her cabbage came third despite providing a home to something unpleasant. As for her onions – well, her onions came nowhere!

Rosey was very taken with the entries in the lily class. She particularly liked one display of huge white arum lilies. She couldn’t resist sticking her hooter in and having a sniff and as a result spent the rest of the afternoon with an orange nose! But just when I thought Rosey had got through the day without causing an incident, she bumped into the table on which the prize orchids were proudly displayed, some of them worth a considerable amount of money. Well, one vase toppled, and her attempts to catch it before it hit the deck caused a sort of domino effect with the other vases. I didn’t know which way to look. There was a stunned silence until Rosey started giggling. Now when Rosey starts giggling it is really infectious and in no time at all everyone was laughing.

As usual the day ended with a traditional English barn dance. Barn dancing is taken very seriously in rural communities with each of the dozens of dances having their own patterns and moves. By now Rosey had had a couple of glasses of chardonnay and there was no stopping her! She went in the wrong direction during the Weavers Jig, and took someone else’s partner in Stripping the Willow and fell flat on her back in the Chanctonbury Ring, but as usual she got away with it.

Rosey has now decided it would be a good idea if she rented an allotment. A little piece of land she can call her own with a shed and a bird table. I hope she does. She clearly is very green fingered – and orange nosed!

Ever wondered how I met Rosey?

2008-08-23T13:19:00.000-07:00

It was about ten years ago. I was having a beer or two with three of my mates in a pub when my eye was caught by a girl sitting alone at a table, her head in her hands. I didn’t take too much notice at the time but I couldn’t help noticing that she seemed to be shuddering. I glanced over again a few minutes later and realised that she was crying.

Now these day we males have to be very careful when approaching members of the fairer sex. For instance I recently I offered my seat on a train to a heavily pregnant lady and received a torrent of verbal abuse in return. But this was something I didn’t feel I could ignore. She was clearly young enough to be my daughter, but she was extremely distressed so I thought I’d risk going in. I excused myself from my friends, and to a baggage of cat-calls, yells of ‘go for it’ and ‘jailbait’ I made my way over to her.

I nervously hovered around for a moment not entirely sure how to go about it. One knee seemed the easiest way to get to her level, which led to yet more ribald comments from across the room. One of my so-called buddies even threw me a ring-pull from a beer can! I sort of cleared my throat to get her attention but it came out somewhere between a belch and a grunt. But it did the trick and suddenly two glassy tear filled eyes peered straight into mine just inches away.

And that was the first time I met My Friend Rosey.
.
Before I had a chance to say anything she spluttered ‘My granny died’. Suddenly I wished I hadn’t got involved. This could be heavy. I expected her to say she’d had a row with her boyfriend or something, not that she was suffering from a family bereavement. She picked up her glass, somewhat unsteadily, and muttered something I can’t repeat here when she noticed it was empty. Come to that, so was the bottle on her table.All I could think to say was ‘I am SO sorry. When did this happen?’‘Before I was born’ she cried ‘It’s not fair. I want a granny. I’ve never had granny’

Well, I was somewhat unusually lost for words. I thought about mentioning that most of us have two grandmothers but I decided against that route for fear of worsening the situation. So instead I pulled a hankie from my pocket so she could dry her eyes and suggested she join us.

She started nodding - frantically in fact, then tottered to her feet somewhat unsteadily, and after a couple of steps in reverse started to zig-zag across the pub to our table. As there was not a spare chair she grabbed an empty one from the next table. Unfortunately some poor soul was about to sit on it and as a result found himself sprawled on the floor!

Before long Rosey seemed to forget about her granny-less state and bit by bit she cheered up.

And in no time at all she became one of us! And as you know dear reader she has remained so to this day.

Accident prone, eccentric, naive, self deprecating and utterly charming.

That’s my friend Rosey.

Had an accident? Call for Rosey!

2008-06-18T16:52:00.000-07:00

I heard a voice behind me “Keithy, Keithy”. I spun round to find a breathless Rosey staring at me. “He was choking – sprout – stuck in his throat!” I told her to slow down and tell what had happened.
.
She was hopping from one foot to the other, as she began to explain that a man in the cafe had got a sprout lodged in his throat and had begun to turn a strange colour. She then rushed round behind me, clamped her arms around me and squeezed me so hard my ribs hurt. I asked her what she was doing. “This is what another man did to the man who couldn’t breathe” she spluttered. I explained that I too was now having difficulty breathing, so she let go. “It was the Heinz manoeuvre” she continued. I decided not to correct her, Heimlich was a word I could never see her getting the hang of!
.
“Well” she continued “I was watching, then suddenly the sprout flew out of his mouth like a bullet, and hit me on the nose”. I commented that it was fortunate she didn’t have her mouth open, because the man may have had to perform the Heinz manoeuvre on her! I laughed, she frowned.
.
Anyway, this episode made her think. She thought for quite a while. I clicked my fingers to try and bring her back, and she blurted out “I’m going to do a first aid course!”
.
Well, she was as good as her word, and she duly signed up for a crash course (she thought that was a funny name, as she would soon be qualified to save lives at the scene of a car crash!) I went with her in order to help her out if she had difficulty understanding anything.
.
On the first day we did things about burns, cuts, bleeding and basic everyday accidents. Unfortunately she passed out at the site of the pretend blood, so the section on dealing with fainting was held a week earlier than intended! After that we moved on to the heavier stuff. I had to stop her when she tried correcting the tutor on his pronunciation of Heimlich, but she was the first to volunteer when he asked for someone to demonstrate it. She glowed with pride when he congratulated her on her technique, even though she did almost break the victim’s ribs in the process.
.
But it was the session on resuscitation that I will never, ever, forget! On the table we had a life size dummy of indeterminate gender. I had to slap Rosey’s hand when she started groping around looking for clues! She said she was uncomfortable with the idea of mouth-to-mouth in case the patient had been eating garlic, so she sat it out until we started on the pressure method – the pressing on the chest technique.
.
It was Rosey’s turn to have a go. The dummy was now down on the floor and Rosey knelt astride it provoking a few sniggers and crude remarks from a couple of on-looking young men! Then she started pushing down, letting go, pushing down, and letting go. To aid her concentration the started muttering “he-ho, he-ho, he-ho”.
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Well, she must have been pressing a little too hard because the dummy started to join in! As she let go it made a sound like ‘ha’. So now we all started to hear “he-ho-ha, he-ho-ha, he-ho-ha”. By now the muted giggles had turned to laughter, and bang on cue the dummy seem to take on a life of its own! It began to raise one leg each time she went down prompting her to whimper “oo”. So now we were hearing “he-ho-ha-oo, he-ho-ha-oo, he-ho-ha-oo”! She never actually saw the funny side of it.
.
We are now half way through the course and Rosey is wondering if she might have a future as a Paramedic. She thinks the uniform is quite fetching and she’d love to make people jump with her siren! Perish the thought!
.

Rosey gets wet!

2008-06-07T15:26:00.000-07:00

'
Rosey had never been to a public swimming pool. When I mentioned the Lido, she thought I was talking about a board game with coloured counters! No, Rosey had never shared a pool with anyone outside her circle of friends and family. After all, there was no need. One of the things she liked most about her parents house was the private pool.
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Anyway, several of us decided to go swimming, and we wanted Rosey to come with us. Our initial approach to her was greeted with a ‘eooo’ sound and a screwed up face, as her mind filled with the image of a pool full of people she had never met before.She was particularly concerned about a story she’d heard about people peeing in the pool. At first I didn’t think she was serious, so I offered her a light hearted reply. I told her that people were only allowed to pee in the corners, so if she stuck to the centre she would be alright. It was met with one of her classic furrowed-brow confused looks and a few seconds silence, after which she fired her second objection at me. She was worried that some people might not have had a shower or washed their hair before going swimming. It was, she pointed out, once called the Municipal Swimming Baths.
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But in the end we took her along. Not exactly kicking and screaming, but certainly leaving us in no doubt that this foray was very much against her better nature.We managed to get through the communal changing rooms – they have separate compartments but you can see above the low walls – then through the communal shower,and eventually to the pool. Well, it was heaving with people from yelling children to fragile old folk, and poor Rosey looked like a fish out of water –almost literally. There she stood, toes turned in, knees together and arms firmly folded across her chest.
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She suddenly looked very vulnerable standing there in her lime green one-piece, wearing on her head a lime green rubber cap topped off with a lavender and yellow rubber flower. So different from the Rosey who, at a party one week before, had been the first to throw off her bikini top, shout geronimo, and plunge straight into her parents pool!
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She ventured slowly into the fun pool, and edged further and further forward when suddenly, something unexpected happened. Unexpected by Rosey that was, because we had forgotten to warn her about the wave feature. A deafening siren screamed out and with that, an army of kids came rushing towards Rosey, carrying her with them. When she regained her balance she realised that waves were beginning to roll her way. Higher and higher they went, knocking her completely off balance! She looked as though she was witnessing a tsunami!
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Well, we scrambled to her rescue, and hauled her out. But she gave us a really angry look and complained that we had just spoiled her fun! Then she leapt back in again!
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Now of course, whenever we discuss our next group outings, she always suggests the Lido. I don’t think I’ll ever really understand my friend Rosey.
'
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Rosey's new job

2008-05-05T12:56:00.000-07:00

It was decided that perhaps Rosey wasn’t cut out for the car business. She quite enjoyed working in her father’s Mercedes dealership, but somehow she never quite got it. Plus of course, being a somewhat attractive young lady, she always proved something of a distraction to the male staff! And the problem was, that to her the boundary between work and play was a notion she failed to understand!
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She did try her best. Unfortunately she was easily distracted, particularly when she was supposed to be working on the computer. Chatting on FaceBook was far more fun than extracting last week’s sales analysis figures.
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Occasionally the salesmen would let her lose on a potential purchaser. They considered it to be something of a spectator sport. Rosey used to get in such a muddle with the model numbers, and all the features. What she could never quite understand was why customers simply didn’t base their purchasing decision on colour alone!
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Rosey adores kids. Let’s face it, she’s still one herself despite being in her late twenties. So when a vacancy arose for a teaching assistant at the local primary school, she just had to go for it. Fortunately Mummy was on the board of governors and able to pull strings!
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For the first time in her life she has a job which she adores. Her main task is to help the teacher, assist the kids in their various tasks and generally help to maintain order. Problem is though, she sometimes forgets that she’s there to work and suddenly she becomes eight years old again! She far prefers sitting on the mat to perching on a chair, and likes nothing more than flicking paint at the children or pulling funny faces when teachers back is turned! The other day she even raised her hand when she wanted to go to the toilet!
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As for the staff room, she feels it is somehow out of bounds and spends every break in the playground skipping and chasing around..For the time being she seems settled, although her approach to the task is somewhat unorthodox!
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And of course, she’s the most popular child in the school
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It got worse and worse!

2008-03-27T17:23:00.000-07:00

Rosey was cycling along minding her own business, when an elderly lady staggered into her path. Rosey swerved to avoid her and as result got into an uncontrollable wobble just as she was about to descend a steep hill.

An approaching motorist was forced to take avoiding action which startled a passing pedestrian whose enormous dog dragged him into the bushes.

Rosey continued downhill unable to stop. She tried using her feet to assist her brakes, and the metal studs on her heels sent a shower of sparks flying out behind. A drunk on a bench dropped his can, and rubbed his bleary eyes convinced he was witnessing an alien landing.

Still unable to stop, Rosey hit the kerb and somersaulted over the handlebars landing in a flower bed which was being sprayed with water by a gardener. He quickly turned the hose away, and showered a young family who were, until then, enjoying a peaceful picnic in the park.

Rosey grabbed her hat, adjusted her muddy jeans and scrambled off to retrieve her bicycle from where it landed in the duck pond. Unfazed by the assembled crowd which looked on open mouthed, some dripping wet, she mounted her cycle and tried to make as dignified an exit as she could.

Unfortunately the front wheel, once round, was now egg shaped and although it still went round, it caused Rosey to bob up and down as she set off down the road. Once again the hill took control, and Rosey found herself travelling at breakneck speed with brakes which no longer functioned. Up down, up down, up down.

And then it happened. She rounded a corner and there in front of her was a truck with its tailgate down forming a ramp - up which Rosey shot!

She found herself her in the middle of a stack of open black sacks filled to overflowing with waste food on its way to the pig farm.

Rosey never got over the events of that day. She never cycled again, and she gave up bacon.
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2008-02-26T11:58:00.000-08:00

Fuzzybutt and Scruff
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Recently, Roseys cat Pussikins has had two new little kittens. Two balls of white fir. Rosey's called them Fuzzybutt and Scruff!

When she got home late last night, she stumbled through her door into the darkness of her hall, and trod on then thinking she was putting on her slippers! Fortunately they are none the worse for having Rosey’s toes almost shoved where the sun don’t shine!

She’s had a few pets over the years. She often talks about her goldfish. Bob she called it, because she was convinced that’s what he was saying as he peered at her through the glass of his murky globe. In fact he was probably saying ‘bowl, bowl’ as he strained to peer through his stagnant water! Anyway, Bob eventually went to that great aquarium in the sky and Rosey still claims he died from drowning. She said he started jerking as if he had hic-cups, swallowed some water and choked on it. We jokingly said that she should have administered some kind of artificial respiration, and she was a little annoyed when realising that we having a giggle at her expense!

Then there was Sam the Shi-Tzu. Actually he was actually a she dog, but despite our suggestion that its name should change to Samantha, she decided to leave it Sam. She soon got fed up with it though. It used to scamper between her feet and get its lead tied around her ankles. And when she was told she had to clean up after it with a pooper- scooper and take the offending matter home with her, it was too much for her to handle and it was despatched to local dog’s home.

She decided that cats were a better bet because they would needed no waking, and could be trained to do their business in next door’s flower beds thereby requiring no cleaning up!She often talks about her pony. It was apparently known locally as Sebastian the Sex-Starved Stallion! It seems that whenever the randy bugger saw another horse of either gender, it grew a fifth leg and took off in the hope of a bit of nookey!

On one occasion he actually caught his prey and poor Rosey had a front row seat until she got un-ceremonially thrown to the ground!

So here’s wishing Fuzzybutt and Scruff every happiness in their new home. One thing’s for sure, whatever happens to them, they will be loved and cuddled to bits!
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Three adventures

2008-02-03T11:25:00.001-08:00

Watch out - Rosey has the darts!

There are two things every pub needs. A darts team and a regular quiz night.

Our local The Bicycle Arms, colloquially known as the Bike, take both activities very seriously. None of our group is particularly adept at the sport of ‘arrows’ and we are only allowed near the dart board on non-match days or when the teams are not practicing. Plus there is a seclusion zone ten feet around the ‘oche’ when Rosey has a throw!

You wouldn’t describe her as a bad player. Dreadful would be nearer the mark! Darts all over the show! In the ceiling, in the wall, in someone’s steak and fries one evening!

The other day Dave the landlord gave us some new darts to play with. Rosey went first, and her aim was remarkably good for a change. Unfortunately as each dart hit the board it leapt backwards and fell to the floor. Rosey got a bit grumpy! She said they were useless – too blunt! But in true Rosey style she had forgotten to take the plastic point protectors off before using them. We removed them for her, and off she went again.

The first one hit a wall lamp and ricocheted to the left landing in a pot plant. The second one, although a pretty good shot, failed to penetrate the board and fell to the floor. The third actually stuck in the treble twenty! She broke into a contented grin, and then advanced forward to retrieve her darts from their various landing sites. As she bent down to pick up dart two, dart three dropped out of the board and stuck itself into the neck of her sweater. No harm done though. She said she just felt a bit of a prick! She has such a way with words!

We’ve never really got involved with the pub quiz either, but we thought perhaps it was time we formed a team. Every team has to have a catchy name, so the five of us sat around a table to have a brainstorming session in the hope of coming up with something which best described our posse.

United Friends, Friends United, Clever Friends, Friendly Five – the names kept coming. Then, tongue firmly in cheek, I suggested Friends Using Combined Knowledge. I said we could be known by our acronym. Well, we all fell about laughing – except Rosey who pulled one of her worried looks. Either she didn’t know what an acronym was, or she couldn’t work out what it would be.

‘I don’t get it’ she giggled! ‘What’s so funny?’

We told her to get some paper and a pen and write it down. Suddenly she got it! She grinned from ear to ear, and then suddenly snapped into a disapproving frown.

‘We can’t call ourselves that!’ she squealed. ‘What would my mum say?’

We settled on The Famous Five!

Foul!

I had some mates round for dinner the other evening. Needless to say my friend Rosey was late. She came via my old address which I left a year ago!

Anyway, she rushed into my lounge, sniffed and said ‘I smell foul’.

Actually she smelt very sweet! Maybe a bit heavy on the Eau d’ Fleurs Sauvages, but nice. We all assured her she was wrong.

She wiggled her nose and said ‘It’s not a fishy smell is it?’‘No’ we all said as one. ‘It’s a lovely smell’

Then she said ‘So what are you cooking then?’I told her it was roasted chicken and she said ‘Then I was right!’ I said I smelt fowl’ .

Lunch with Rosey

Rosey and I decided to meet for lunch today. It was a beautiful sunny morning and warm. More like April than February. We arranged to have a drink first at a bar at Sovereign Harbour in Eastbourne.

Now this bar is on the second level above the other restaurants and bars, and has a lovely sun terrace where you can look down at the boats and people below. Anyway, we both ordered pints of IPA and leaned on the railing to watch the world from on high.' Unfortunately Rosey let her full glass tilt slightly letting a small trickle of beer find its way to the level below and onto the shiny bald head of an old gentleman sitting below. We thought it would be prudent to retreat inside before he looked up and spotted us!

Then off we went to one my favourite town pubs, The Marine in Eastbourne. Whenever I go there I tuck into one of their fabulously succulent half pound burgers dripping with chilli con carne!It’s a messy meal to eat and best approached with pair of eating irons rather than attempting to pick it in your hands!

Now I have something of a reputation for covering myself in food withanything runnier than a cheese sandwich. But if you think I’m clumsy, then you can’t have seen Rosey!

So when she decided to join me in a chilli burger I subtly suggested she reconsider and perhaps order a ham salad instead! But no, she was determined, so armed with a pint each of Harveys best, knives and forks, and a million paper napkins, we set about the task of manoeuvring our food from the plate to the mouth!

I started off well! But Rosey fell at the first hurdle! She dug her fork into the part of the burger nearest the rim of her plate and pressed down on it with her knife. The plate suddenly tilted catapulting a shower of tomatoes lettuce and red kidney beans all over the people sitting at the next table!

The whole thing was observed two elderly grey people sitting opposite who were vaguely reminiscent of couple of sacks of vegetables. They were slowly chewing the cud, stopping only briefly to simultaneously tut-tut!

This episode reminded me of another occasion when a group us went out for a ruby at the Ashoka Tandoori. Indian restaurants are always busy about the time the pubs close, and this night was no exception. Dear Rosey had been on the chardonnay for about 4 hours at The Cavalier in Carlisle Road and was a little squiffy to say the least!.

Well when her meal arrived, a chicken tikka massala, she wasted no time in digging her spoon in and aiming it in the direction of her mouth. I say in the direction. The spoon shot up, her mouth opened, but the curry went straight over her right shoulder. Not once but again and again. She was getting increasingly frustrated and hungrier by the minute until our friend Pete decided to forget his own dish of food for the time being and act as a human navigation system by grasping Roseys wrist and guiding her spoon in the right direction. The task was not made any easier when Rosey got a fit of the giggles then nearly choked!

As the waiter arrived with a somewhat timely plate of hot moist towels, Rosey raised her glass to him, and in her best private school accent said ‘Cheers big ears, her it goes nose, up your bum chum’.'Now I’ve heard her use this toast before – she once stood up at a very starchy wedding feast and proposed it to a startled table of diners. I had hoped that my little lecture on the unsuitability of these words in all but the most private of functions would have sunk in, but no!.

At least with Rosey around, life’s never dull.

Another six of Roseys Adventures!

2008-01-30T06:55:00.000-08:00

Rosey has a bonfire

Rosey recently felt the need to clear out her kitchen cupboards. She often had these urges after a glass of wine or three! Rummaging through the piles of out-of-date packages and bags she came across a shelf crammed with canned food which she felt was surplice to requirements. An hour later she had amassed a considerable amount of rubbish – too much to cram into her diminutive garbage bin. The obvious solution was a bonfire! So after setting alight a pile of paper and wood she placed the kitchen rubbish amid the flames then retired to her newly emptied kitchen for a celebratory libation.

As she relaxed glass in hand, she was suddenly jolted to her senses by what sounded like rapid gunfire! Rushing outside to see what was happening she found herself gazing in amazement at the side of her house which was completely plastered with baked beans, sliced peaches and marrowfat peas!

A trip to Belgium

A few weeks ago we were in Belgium on a long weekend break. Well, the choice of beers there is legendary. The bar we were in offered 150 different brews, all produced in this one small country. We had one particular beer that looked fantastic in the glass, but once in the mouth had an indescribably acrid taste. A few sips later however we were hooked! It also had the strange effect of turning us all an alarming shade of red! But that’s not all it did to Rosey! It went straight to her head!

Anyway, she suddenly became aware of an urgent need for a lavatorial facility! She needed a loo and she needed it straight away! Unfortunately, access to the ladies room required the unfortunate girl to negotiate a flight of steps! Being somewhat unsteady on her legs she decided that the best way to tackle the stairs was on hands and knees! What she didn’t know however was that on the first floor was the restaurant. Unable to stagger to her feet she had no choice but to continue her journey to the toilet on all fours weaving between tables of startled onlookers!Sometime later she came wobbling back to our table displaying a somewhat oddly shaped frontal area! Diving down the top of her blouse she commenced pulling out no less than 9 bread rolls which she had helped herself to on the way back!

‘lez av anuver dwink’ she said then slithered down the wall and fell asleep on the floor like a discarded doll.

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The things she says!

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Poor Rosey! Everyone takes advantage of her unquestioning naivety!.We were all in the pub a few nights ago, about six of us, and Rosey sneezed. Well, a couple of us said ‘bless you’, as you do. Rosey said ‘thank you’. I told her that she shouldn’t say thank you because every time she did, a fairy would die. She looked at me, and then looked around the table at everyone else. ‘You are teasing me’ she said. ‘Is that really true?’..

Not long ago she was telling us that we all needed to ‘think green’ for the sake of the planet. I told her that I had just bought a charity wrist band in aid of the 'Save the Rubber Tree' charity! She liked that.

Anyway, she said that she thought we should have wind farms on every hill top. Actually, she called them propellers, but we knew what she meant! Then someone said to her that if we built too many it would turn Britain into an enormous hovercraft that would begin sailing off across the Atlantic towards America!.In her normal fashion, her brow became furrowed. You could hear her thinking. Her mouth opened, then it closed. Then it opened and broke into a grin. Not being quite sure what to say, she suggested we all have another drink!
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You are not supposed to swallow it!

Another time several of us were sitting around in her flat. She took a bubble pack from her bag and popped out a huge tablet which she put in her mouth. Despite several large gulps of wine it refused to go down, so she started chewing it..Moments later she started foaming at the mouth! Like a human volcano! The more she tried washing it down the worse it got – green foam everywhere..My friend asked what it was she had taken and she said quietly ‘a tablet the doctor gave me because I have thrush’. My friend then asked to see the pack. ‘You are supposed to insert them not swallow them’ she pointed out!
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Don’t you just love her?

washing up!

Rosey offered to help me wash up in the pub kitchen the other night. We had been busy, and I was tired, so I took her up on her offer. With just a few pots and pans to go, I left her to it, and drove home.

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The next morning I needed a couple of roasting dishes but I couldn’t find them. I assumed Rosey had put them away in the wrong place, and so I used some alternative receptacles.

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Midway through the lunchtime session, I received a message from the bar telling me that our next door neighbour needed to see me. I duly went out to meet her, and there she was, holding in her arms two saucepans and the two roasting dishes I was searching for earlier!

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She told me that when she went out into her garden that morning, she had found them in her flower beds!

Rosey popped in for a drink an hour or so later. She was nursing a bit of a hangover. I told her about the neighbour and my pans, and at first she laughed. Then it slowly dawned on her. Her smile changed into a guilty grin. The sweet one she always adopts when she thinks she may be in trouble.The previous night began to play over in her head.

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She remembered spotting my cooking wine and she thought she would sample a drop. After all, what harm would that do? She liked it. She liked it very much. Too much in fact! She had a little more, and a little more!

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And then she looked at those remaining dirty pots and pans swimming around before her , and decided the quickest way to deal with them would be to throw them out of the window and over next door’s hedge!'

It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now in the cold painful light of the day, she realised that Rosey had struck again!

Rosey and childbirth

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One of our group of friends is pregnant. I fact she’s expecting her little girl in four weeks time. She’ll be called Poppy!

We were sitting around a table in the pub listening to Stacey. The girls seemed fascinated by her stories of morning sickness and piles. We guys decided to talk football in an effort to avoid hearing the gruesome details of late pregnancy.

Rosey wasn’t sure what to make of it. She adopted a slightly sour expression, and physically recoiled when listening to detailed accounts of unpleasant discharges and flatulence.

Conversation then turned to the birth process. Stacey had been there before but none of the other ladies had. The girl-talk was punctuated by ‘eeoos’ and ‘yucks’. Every now and again Rosey squeeked! The bloke’s conversation changed to rugby!

Stacey told them that a friend of hers didn’t believe that the umbilical cord was sealed with a clamp after severing. She thought it was tied in a knot. If the knot was too loose, it caused a sticky-out belly button! They fell about with laughter – except Rosey looked confused. ‘But they do tie it, don’t they?’ she asked.

This was too good an opportunity to miss! I said to her ‘Of course it’s tied Rosey. Before she does it the nurse pinches the end of the cord, and if the baby is a little chubby with big round cheeks, she releases a little air like letting down a balloon. A good nurse can even play a tune!’

Then the familiar chain of thought started.

‘Really? – I thought I was right. Why are you all smiling? Are you teasing me again? You are you bastards!’

Then she collapsed in fits of giggles and I knew I was forgiven!

It’s at times like this that Rosey returns one of her old habits! Smoking. She used to get through 20 a day, but she decided to cut right down. It wasn’t the dire warnings of premature death that caused her to re-evaluate her habit. Nor the cost, nor even the fact that since the smoking ban she needed to stand out in the street when she needed a fix of nicotine. No, she cut down when one of us told her that her fingers and her fringe would turn yellow if she continued.

While she stood outside in a cloud of smoke, we recalled the time when she stubbed a cigarette out in what she assumed was a dish of potpourri crystals left on the bar for that very purpose. A second or two later she turned crimson when she saw someone dipping their fingers in the dish and placing some of the stuff in their mouth. It was then she realised that it wasn’t a fragrant ash tray after all – it was a dish of dried fruits placed there for the enjoyment of the drinkers!

Only Rosey could do that!