Monthly Archives: December 2016

Perfect . . .

london_mmb_b1_manchester_road

Image by “mattbuck”  Source: Wikimedia Commons

January 12 2000

Perfect Retirement Housing Complex, Inner Hamlet, LITTONSHIRE  QY4 2PN

My Dear Ralph

Just to let you know dear, that I have finally arrived at my new demesne in Littonshire. My new abode is not quite so delightful as one might have hoped; the beige concrete frontispiece looks a trifle forbidding, and I could see how one could mistake the rectangular tower-like structure, at the far end, for a gun turret.  But I could scarcely stay in my home – exposed to the view of the whole passing world – in the middle of winter, could I?

I did have a prior interview with the individual known as “Our Leader” and I’m not sure that this went as well as it might have done.  I was shown into a rather down-at-heel office, which had glass on only one side – the corridor side.  And ensconced on one of those black swivel chairs was a short-looking, middle-aged, male sporting a crew cut.  He did shake my hand up and down and then emitted a bark, inviting me to sit down.  I think, dear, he must hail formerly from one of those military camps so common, up and down the land.

“A tragedy dear Dame,” he said.  “Pom-Pom has dropped by to tell me all about it.  You are in luck.  Seven of our 76 apartments are still to be filled.  And we can certainly offer you one in the short-term.”

“Thank you,”  I said.  “I feel quite overcome . . . ” (with what, pet, I am not too sure).

And that was more-or-less it.  I did think he might have used that more interesting phrase, pro tem, but I’m not sure that Latin would be a language commonly flung about a military mess by men in the mass.

So today I ascended in the lift to my dwelling on the second floor.  I must admit to being fortunate not to have been assigned to a higher destination, and Pom-Pom’s own domain is around 50 feet further down the corridor, on the opposite side.  (I have to confess to a fondness for the dear old fellow – in spite of all . . .)

I reached the door of my newly-assigned “home.”  And flinched.  It is painted magenta pink, and there is some kind of desiccated artificial flower arrangement in the adjacent alcove.  And then I braced myself  to open the door.  The first thing I noticed was the rather scurfy pink carpet adorning the floor which, due to a relative lack of funds, I am presently unable to replace.  The wallpaper did, also, rather catch my eye.  It is salmon pink with white splashes on it – throughout.  Or, at least, as throughout as it can be in a single-roomed apartment.

 My furniture, or at least some of it, should be arriving shortly . . .

Yours

Aunt Evangeline