Month: August 2020

Thursday 27th August 2020 

On Sunday afternoon, Alfred (Number 16) was discussing Victory over Japan Day, with Liam the antique dealer. He told him how he’d been evacuated from the East End, during the war and was forced to work for long hours, on a farm in Suffolk. He said he used to watch the American bombers flying to and from the airbases and wished he’d been part of the action. Liam casually mentioned he’d served in Iraq. This week his story was that he’d been an intelligence officer working on Operation Red Dawn when Saddam had been found having dinner with friends. Liam told him he’d only been minutes from the house and if it hadn’t been for the Americans muscling in on the action, he could have been the one who shot him whilst he was enjoying a beer and a plate of couscous! Alfred said he thought Hussein had been pulled from a “spider hole” as the result of intelligence, provided by an Iraqi interpreter. Liam thought for a moment before looking over his shoulder and replying, in a confidential tone, that was what the public were told… 

Marcus and his new boyfriend Dan (Head of Fresh Produce) are getting on like a house on fire. Queenie spent the evening with them on Friday. Dan likes cats so he ticks all my boxes. I was invited too, so I popped in on my way over to see Lola, who was out AGAIN.  I blame it on that diamanté collar. To be honest, it seems to be attracting a lot of undesirables. Dan had bought me some lovely prawns, so I settled down on Queenie’s lap and enjoyed listening to the conversation whilst they hand-fed me. Interestingly Marcus’s 1980’s up-lighters have disappeared and been replaced with some rather nice “industrial” table lamps and a new rug. He must be in love. Given Marcus and Dan are such attentive hosts, at the end of the evening, Queenie said she thought in the future, she might like to sit in an armchair like a plump dowager and just be attended by gay men. I may be wrong but I think that’s called an expensive care home?

Brian and Wendy, owners of the stupid dogs, live at Number 27. They have one teenage daughter, Jodie. Being older parents, they dote on their offspring who, I have to say is a little spoilt. Jodie has recently received her “A Level” results and the grades were not what her fee-paying parents had expected. According to Hector at Number 23, had she spent less time smoking by the bins at the back of the local supermarket and more attending lessons, her grades might have been significantly better. However, as far as Brian is concerned, it’s all the Education Secretary’s fault and he’s written directly to him demanding re-re-moderation of the re-moderation exam system,  to make certain Jodie gets “three A stars”, regardless of her teacher’s prediction of three C’s. I sympathise with his disappointment but I know for a fact when her parents were out working, Jodie would sneak home from school and spend most afternoons on the sofa with Josh, an apprentice mechanic. I can only conclude that instead of History, Maths and English A Levels, she might have achieved a better results doing Physical Education and Biology, since she appears to be an expert on  the human body and possibly Chemistry, given the range of recreational substances she’s been taking. 

Click on image to hear Merlot!

Thursday 20th August 2020

The Victoria Avenue summer street party, held last Saturday, was not without incident. Jeff (Number 29), rigged up a speaker system along the road and addressed everyone (frequently) through a microphone attached to his head, as though he was organising a Beyonce concert. The residents, some more reluctant than others, carted out their tables and chairs and set up on the pavement outside their houses, with a variety of finger-foods and copious amounts of alcohol in the hope of improving the evening. At seven thirty, Jeff gave a detailed briefing about COVID and Health and Safety and how nobody should run to the next table, when the music stopped. Instead, he said, “Everyone  should walk in an orderly fashion”. As predicted, it all ended in disarray after the eleventh song, as an argument broke out between the residents of Numbers 28 and 30 over “premature movement” and Gary the builder from Number 11, said he’d nothing in common with Yaz (Number 22) and why should he be made to spend  time in his company as he still owed him for fixing his shower? Things calmed down after a bit of a reshuffle but for a while, the atmosphere remained tense and there was a lot of heckling about Jeff’s choice of music, which was based mainly on Elvis tracks. By nine thirty, Mrs Waters from Number 21 had overdone it on Prosecco and she crossed the road and straddled Mike Jones, whilst miming to “I wanna be your teddy bear” . On seeing this, Jeff started shouting down his microphone about social distancing but she wasn’t taking any notice. After a few verses, she was helped back to her house, yelling if anyone wanted a proper party, they should knock on her door as she knew lots of games and had a variety of masks. Jackie looked over at Carol and mouthed something like  “Glut!” (?). Matt from Number 20, said to girlfriend Chantal, he might pop in and see if Mrs Waters was ok, as she lived alone. Chantal said he could but if he did, she would personally put an end to his ability to have any more children. There was a moment’s hesitation before he sat down and helped himself to another beer. By eleven, following plenty of alcohol and having hijacked the sound system, everyone had broken ranks and Gary had formed a conga down the middle of the road, shouting it would be fine as they were all outside, nobody would be facing each other and physical contact would be less than fifteen minutes! 

Queenie’s mother, Lydia arrived on Thursday evening. Her hair was dyed pink, interwoven with flowers and plaited at the back. This time, she had a bodybuilder friend with her called Mars. He was well over six feet, had hair below his shoulders and was covered in Celtic tattoos. They were off to a re-enactment weekend in Leicester. Lydia wafted into the house in her usual haze of bangles and patchouli and promptly introduced a startled Queenie (with a wink), as her “sister”. At that point Queenie asked Mars if he would mind if she had a private word with Lydia and she dragged her out into the garden to find out what was going on. From my position, curled up on a garden chair, I was in a prime spot to hear Lydia tell Queenie she couldn’t possibly admit she had a daughter of forty-nine as she’d told him she was only fifty-five. The maths just didn’t work! Queenie suggested that the whole thing wasn’t very appropriate to which Lydia replied she was simply “living in the moment.” Queenie walked off saying she was living like a sleazy cougar and what would her two grandchildren think? Later that evening there was a lot of loud music coming from the van and a strange, sweet tobacco smell. As I walked past, Lydia flung the window open and shouted  “Merlot darling, you’ll love this, it’s Def Leopard!”…Pardon?

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Thursday 13th August 2020

This week, Saffron Wright-Smith and her children Oliver & Emilia have been ‘Cup Caking For Charity’. Saffron has been trying out her new recipes. The ingredients include Andean quinoa, transported by orphaned llamas; samphire, hand-harvested by endangered fishermen and watercress, grown in cooperation with a colony of beavers. There was an honesty box on the front porch of their house, which by Wednesday, was full of donations. The cakes however, remained unclaimed. Mystified, Saffron popped two in husband Luke’s lunch box each day for the rest of the week, as a treat. He in turn, donated them to the station staff, on his way to work. 

Maria Bianchi’s aim with the water pistol has improved. I admit I had become a bit complacent but I hadn’t expected the full-on drenching I received, whilst having a toilet stop in her garden. I was sitting very comfortably among the anemones, watching a butterfly, when I heard a scream and she waddled out of the back door and took a wild shot. All I can say is, I had to leave the garden in a very undignified manner! 

Queenie had been reading up about cleaning cats teeth, on the internet. Suddenly on Friday, fish-flavoured toothpaste and a whole range of cat toothbrushes and dental sticks clattered through the letter box. I could have told her not to waste her money and the inference I have bad breath was frankly, upsetting. Over the week, she made several attempts: cajoling, stealth, ambush etc but none of them worked. Finally, irritated at being woken up by another appliance being eased into my mouth, I was forced to sink my teeth into her finger, to demonstrate there was absolutely nothing wrong with them! 

There’s a longstanding boundary dispute going on between the owners of Number 28 Richard & Jo and Number 30, Andrew and his elderly mother Elsie. They’re arguing over a piece of land that is effectively six inches wide. After a few months of calm, it started up again this week, when Richard cut the top off Number 30’s conifer hedge. His point was, that it was blocking their light and they had warned them. In retaliation, Andrew parked his car over Richard and Jo’s driveway. In response, Jo called her son, who’s a mechanic and he came over and towed the car away. I was sitting on the wall of contention when the subsequent row ensued. Andrew came out brandishing a large piece of his lopped conifer, shouting if Richard didn’t get his car back immediately, he would shove the top of the conifer where the sun didn’t shine. Must be somewhere like Norway? 

On Tuesday evening, Queenie was on the sofa tucking into a “Waggon Wheel” and complaining to her friend Michelle, that they seem to have shrunk since she was a child; a bit like “Curly Wurleys”. She wasn’t sure if it was just she’d got taller or if it was some kind of confectionary conspiracy to increase profits. In any event, as she’d just begun a portion controlled diet, they fitted in nicely. She confided in Michelle that she’d never before had inner thighs that met and she was a bit concerned that in this hot weather, with friction as she walked, her legs might just catch fire.

Please click on the video above to hear Merlot’s message!

Thursday 6th August 2020

Some of the residents of Victoria Avenue have arranged a summer street party to cheer each other up. It’s due to take place next weekend and will involve tables and chairs being placed on the pavement outside each of the houses, rather than in one long line in the middle of the road, to keep it all COVID-safe. Jeff from number 29 who loves being in charge of things, suggested a system of rotation to music: Families could sanitise the table and chairs and move down the street after each set of ten songs, so that they could socialise with several people during the evening. It would be a sort of socially-distanced-musical-chairs-cum-fun-party. Hector asked, straight-faced, whether people had to finish each other’s food and drink when they changed tables? Jeff just looked at him  quizzically and replied “That wouldn’t be very hygienic, would it?” He added stiffly, “People would just need to pick up their plates and glasses and walk the short distance. It wasn’t rocket science.” Jackie (from number 5), asked if rotation would be “controlled” or else when the music stopped there could be a lot of broken glass, smashed plates and injuries, as people dashed over to sit near people they particularly liked (sub-text – avoided those they didn’t). Jeff just gave her a withering look. Queenie said to Marcus it sounded like speed dating to terrible music and there was bound to be the same feeling of drunken disappointment, at the end of the evening. 

Today, Liam was telling an attractive woman, who had innocently ventured into his antiques emporium, how he’d only “got into the antiques business when he left the Secret Service”. Obviously he couldn’t tell her anything about the time he broke into a submarine to retrieve code, to allow the Government to hack into an enemy database, as he was bound by the Official Secrets Act. Suffice to say he said, lowering his voice, he still had to keep a gun and was on speed-dial to MI5. As the customer started backing out of the shop he enquired, casually, if she would she like to go for a drink with him? 

Last night, Queenie and I had a lovely evening snuggled up together in front of the TV. She said she thought she might come off the dating websites since she’d started the menopause and going forward, life might be simpler if it was just her and me. I rolled onto my back and purred loudly, just to reinforce what a splendid idea that was. She got a pen and paper and did a very quick analysis: 

Menopause – Benefits

• Decreased heating bills

Menopause – Drawbacks

• No longer having to refuse an impromptu date, when walking past a building site

• Weight gain 

• Hot flushes

• Irritated with stupid people (all month rather than just a week a month)

• Loudly outspoken (e.g. in shops or with work colleagues)

• Skin looses elasticity (where you don’t want it to)

• Skin gains elasticity (where you don’t want it to)

• Become invisible (unless being loudly outspoken in shops or with work colleagues) 

So, on balance….

Thursday 30th July 2020

This week I was told to be on my best behaviour, as Queenie was on her second date with someone called Nick. He described himself in his website profile as ‘Hedonistic artist with a VGSOH, penchant for long romantic dinners and log fires’. What’s VGSOH and WHO uses the word ‘penchant’? I hated him immediately. He arrived half an hour late and was a bit scruffy and I think he still had the residue of his ‘art’ under his finger nails. I sat on the chair opposite and stared at him, with distaste. With a nervous laugh, he described me as intense and said it’s a shame he couldn’t give me a pat as he’s a bit allergic to cats. He didn’t mention that in his profile! Jubilantly, I moved to sit next to him when Queenie went off to get drinks, so he promptly got up and moved to another chair. I followed, enjoying myself. He made a flapping motion with his hands, mouthing something that ended in ‘off’, whilst looking over his shoulder to make sure Queenie had’t heard. Game on! I jumped on the back of his chair and rubbed myself round his head, purring. In response he leapt up and sprinted to the farthest corner of the room, frantically searching his pockets for his inhaler. By the time Queenie returned with the drinks, Nick, ashen faced and without any sign of VGSOH, wheezed something about being sorry but ‘it probably wasn’t going to work’ and, to Queenie’s evident surprise, he departed. 

Liam O’Brien lives at number 33. Originally from County Cork, he’s certainly lived his life. Three or four lives probably and all very different. He owns the antique / bric-a-brac shop in town and he’s always involved in some scam or another. Sometimes I go and sit in his shop, among the clutter and smell of damp, to enjoy the latest one. As ever, I was rewarded because on Wednesday morning, I found him telling a customer how he’d just got back from a three-week trip to Russia, returning with  a consignment of priceless bronze figures, purchased from an oligarch in Vladivostok. That confused me as I know for a fact, he hasn’t been away, apart from a brief trip in his van, to a house clearance in Gateshead. Drawn in by the improbable tale, the customer eventually purchased one and he’d not got as far as the A27 before he noticed an arm had fallen off it. On his return, Liam (mortified) said the problem was, you couldn’t trust a Russian, look at Salisbury! 

On Monday morning, Queenie received a call from her mother, Lydia who had been detained at Bow Street Police Station, to say her camper van had been towed away and could she use Queenie’s credit card to liberate it? She’d tried Queenie’s brother Stephen but he seemed to have problems with his phone as it kept going dead. Apparently she’d been arrested for disorderly conduct in Hyde Park: Firstly for blocking in three crowd control police vans because “there was a lovely space right next to the park” and secondly chaining herself to the leg of a mounted police officer singing “We Shall Not Be Moved” whilst shouting at the handful of otherwise peaceful climate protesters, “Come on you lot, put some effort in! Follow me, I was at Greenham Common!” After an afternoon in the cells, she was released with a caution.

If you are enjoying my blog, please share it with your feline-loving friends! Thank you, Merlot x