'I know the bouquet hasn't got black berried ivy in it Madam and - yes I do remember that you 'distinctly' specified black berried ivy. But if you remember (which obviously you don't you stupid woman) I did explain (at great length), that black berried ivy is not available in June - Why? (Because the birds have eaten all the bl**dy berries and any they may have missed have been scattered by the four winds to multiply that's why) -

'Yes I know it was in the magazine Madam, but as I explained, (again at great length) magazines shoot the wedding season flowers in December when the ivy has lots of black berries on it.'

Dear G*d why can't magazines get their act together and why do posy designer florists insist on sending them bouquets that only work in photo shoots and deepest winter? Why can't we just cancel the wedding season? Nobody gets their knickers in a twist like this over Christmas.

'No I'm sorry it wasn't possible to import it in - no, not even from the Arctic Circle - Well I don't think that even Arctic circle ivy has black berries on it in June and unfortunately our foliage supplier's Helsinki run was cancelled this week due to a SARS scare.'

Don't look at me like that Baleesha or I'll hand the phone over to you. It's only a tiny white lie. All right it's a thumping great black one, whoever heard of foliage being imported from the Arctic? Hold on what about reindeer moss? Doesn't that come from the Arctic Circle? Perhaps it is only a white lie? Best check with the market boys - quite like the idea of the Helsinki run - very James Bond. What's she saying?

'Oh no we certainly wouldn't want the bride coming down with something like that on her wedding day - I do agree one does have to be so careful - Oh absolutely. We check out all our supplier's credentials.'

Pecs, bank balance, fanciability - all their credentials.

'I mean we wouldn't want funnel web spiders in the eucalyptus would we? Which is why we have only used 'English' foliage in the wedding bouquet.'

God I'm good. Even Baleesha is impressed - scowling but impressed. I have got my fingers crossed OK?

'Oh the bride loves the bouquet does she - even without the ivy - Well yes better to be safe than sorry - We do try to think of everything - don't mention it - you're welcome - Oh how kind we'd love some cake. Byeee.'

'What was that all about?' Baleesha does not take kindly to creative criticism - amend 'any' criticism but she's particularly tetchy when it comes to the work related type.

'They loved it, bride's ecstatic, buttonholes are divine, table centres a joy, pedestals heavenly.'

Her feathers begin to subside; perhaps I can stop there - no she's still fluttering.

'Oh and the top table was worthy of a double spread in Brides magazine.'

She's preening. I can stop. What is it with florists? They might be creative, sensitive and talented but dear god they certainly threw some king sized portions of ego, self-doubt and insecurity into the gene pool. I am not your mother OK? I'm you're boss. I do not do 'nice'.

'Abigail don't you think you should hone your bucket changing and floor sweeping skills before you attempt any of the funeral work? Which, having been here for a mere three weeks, you are quite patently incapable of executing to anything that even remotely resembles a standard let alone one I would find acceptable!'

The girl's only been here three weeks and she thinks she's good enough to do the funeral work? Oh no a loo break. That makes four in an hour. What is it with new florists? Why do they have such weak bladders?

'Now just look what you've done! Don't shout at the poor girl.'

Baleesha is supposed to be on my side, she's my top florist, my right arm. She is my punchbag not the other way around.

'I was not shouting!'

'You are now! What's up with you this morning?'

Lesley and Monica share a nudge nudge moment. Lesley and Monica have been here long enough to have passed the weak bladder stage and are now mid the 'I'm not stupid' phase. They know a little and believe they know it all, worse they are convinced anyone above them knows nothing. Baleesha spots the nudging.

'Have you got a problem Monica?'

Oh well-done Baleesha! Spoken in exactly the right tone, midway between a Gestapo interrogator and a firm but caring parent. Enough to keep our Monica in her place for another few months and send her scurrying to the loo, as Abigail emerges, red eyed. Must change the air freshener it seems to irritate their eyes. That or she's coming down with another cold. Best have a word with her mother the child obviously isn't eating properly.

'Office now!'

Hang on, I'm supposed to be the one who gives the orders. I follow bossy B.

'What is the matter with you? You are appalling this morning! Rude to customers, shouting at the staff.'

'I was not shouting!' Taking cigarette out of packet, voice mildly raised but hardly a shout.

'I was not rude to customers!' Attempting to light it with lighter that fell into coffee cup.

'I didn't tell her to F**k off did I? That's being rude!' Click, click, click. Lighter definitely dead.

'Who took the berried ivy order anyway? Was it I? I think not!' Scrabbling in drawer for lighter back up - Matches? Two pieces of dry wood? Anything? Thank g*d a Zippo.

'Who spotted it? Who phoned the stupid woman to tell her that she couldn't have it?' No fuel in Zippo.

'Who had to look at the picture in the magazine when she brought it in last month and explain yet again that she couldn't have the b****y berries?'

'Do you want a light?' Baleesha enquires with moral high ground vocal inflexion and corner of mouth quivering.

Last futile attempt at face saving and getting Zippo to work. Failure.

'And who has just spent twenty minutes on the phone trying the calm the mother from hell down? Yes please.'

'What's up?'

I am not going to cry. It's the wedding season. All the Saturday girls are abandoning ship for their extended summer holidays in the sun, I have just had a g*d almighty row with my mother who is playing the age card with an enthusiasm that places her closer to eight than to eighty. I haven't figured out what we're going to do in the next b****y 'teach them how to set up a flower shop' class which is only two days away. The VAT return thudded through the letterbox this morning. It is quite possible that I have put on at least two pounds. My best friend is coming for a visit in two weeks. The kitchen walls are black and the only cheap decorator I know is fully booked for six months. I am not going to cry.

'Don't mind me I'm being menopausal.'

'No it's something else I know you.'

'I can't connect to the b****y Internet all right!'

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Uselesss Hound

08.05.03 Front Page

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