A Moment of Reflection Munching a Meaty Ring.

The heavy wood door of Crusty Hall slowly opened, as one grabbed the immaculately buffed knob and twisted it to the left. Señor Sol’s tentacles of light burst through the opening and bounced off the reflective surfaces of the tiled vestibule and ricocheted off the walls of the Great Hall.

At the foot of the steps outside, one’s faithful houseboy, Chu Me, had prepared GUSSET 2 for one’s excursion into the village. With one thing and another, it seemed like an age since one had ventured out of the grounds of one’s exquisite residence. One had decided that a blast down the country lanes, into the heart of the village, to partake of a snifter or two with one’s dear friend, Fanny O’Dour, at The Badger’s Snatch, would be the perfect opportunity to catch up.

Chu Me held the driver’s door open on the glistening silver Aston Martin as one elegantly plonked oneself into the leather seat. Once settled into position, he clicked the door shut. Blowing him a kiss with one’s glove-covered hand, one pushed the gear stick into first and sped off down the drive. In less than 5 minutes, one was pulling up at the front of The Badger’s Snatch.

Sashaying majestically into the front entrance once saw Fanny’s husband, Willy O’Dour, standing behind the bar. It was very quiet. The musical ping-ponging of the fruit machine in the far corner echoed out spasmodically; Veronica Mantrapp was sitting in a booth with a bottle of Brown Ale, a straw and a copy of the latest Hello! Magazine (you wouldn’t think she was a model!) and a pair of ramblers had stopped by for a sandwich and a cup of coffee to rest from their pointless journey.

Willy had his laptop on the bar and seemed engrossed in whatever he was looking at. So much so, that he hadn’t even noticed one enter.

”Good morning, Willy dear!”

“Ah! Morning Crusty.” Willy looked up, “We’ve missed you!”

“One must apologise, poppet. Things have been rather hectic at Crusty Hall. One has felt like a prisoner in one’s own home. But, at last, one is free!” Removing one’s gloves and resting them on the bar, one continued, “One thought one would nip down and catch up on all the gossip with Fanny. Is she in?”

“She’s out I’m afraid, Crusty. Daphne Dewdrop was in last night and asked her if she fancied seeing the new Sarah Jessica Parker movie today (one shuddered … naturally), so they’ve both nipped into town.”

“A new movie you say? With Sarah Jessica Parker?” One enquired, trying to control one’s gag reflex.

“Yes. It’s called I Don’t Know How She Does It, I think. Can I get you a drink?”

“A glass of Pere Ventura Cava, if you will, Willy dear.” One replied, sitting on the supportive bar stool.

Willy placed the chilled glass of golden, bubbling elixir in front of one. He picked up a brown bag by his laptop and lifted it towards one, “Would you like a barbeque Hula Hoop, Crusty?”

“Very kind, dear!” One said, taking one from the packet and settled back with one’s drink.

Willy leant over the bar and continued scanning his laptop screen while one played with his meaty ring with one’s forefinger and thumb, before navigating it between one’s lips and enjoying a good munch.

I Don’t Know How She Does It, one thought.

She’ll certain never know the heartache of losing her good looks … but she must have all the best stylists at her disposal … she must have accumulated a sizeable fortune from her moderately successful career. Furthermore, she must have a plethora of designers flinging their outfits in her direction, to hang lifelessly upon her skeletal frame… yet she still looks like that?!!

One doesn’t know how she does it either, dear!