'Clarissa why have we got the heaters on? It may be October but it is hardly sub zero in here.'

'I'm sorry. I was cold.'

'If you'd considered dressing as an option the problem would be solved. A bare midriff and navel piercing may be the height of student grunge chic but I'm not sure the village is quite ready for that amount of flesh on display outside of the butchers and before lunch on a Saturday.'

'Right.'

What does she mean by that? 'Right'. I'm right? She's right? Someone is turning right? Oh it's smiling. It thinks we're on the same wavelength; we're not even on the same band dear. Just smile back it's easier. What has she got on her T cloth? (Shirt would be a gross exaggeration).

'Clarissa may I ask you a question?'

'Yeah.'

It's all teeth and strangulated noises from the back of the throat... Oh heavens it's an attempt at a giggle.

'I take it that the motif on the scrap of material covering a bit of your upper torso is the Superhero logo?'

'It's cool isn't it?'

More strangulated noises.

'Positively freezing by the looks of it. However, I am at a complete loss as to why you should be wearing it. Do you have a single attribute that gives you the right to claim a super anything mantle?'

'Err super div?'

Oh I suppose it is mildly amusing and at least it answers back.

'Right, girls, we have a lot to get through today. I want all the flowers cut by ten and then you can do the bud vases Brigitta, Mirabell, whatever your name is.'

I do wish Patrick would stop giving the staff pet names; I have a hard enough time remembering their real ones. Now what? The Northern child looks like she's about to do an audition piece for Les Miserables.

'Are you all right Brigitta?'

Obviously not. I do wish they wouldn't slam the loo door in moments of crisis. Oh thank G*d, here's Patrick, Surrey's own landscape leprechaun. He can find out what it's all about.

'You're late again!

'You're grumpy as usual.'

Office now!'

'Oh, I've been so busy. I haven't stopped. Put the kettle on then. If you expect me to do your deliveries for free the least you can do is make me a coffee. Where have I got to go then? And I don't do the poor part of the village, you'll have to cab them.'

'Your hair looks dreadful; who cut it?'

'At least it's not dyed like yours. Miss over fifty, over weight... 'Goldilocks'? You wish. At least mine will grow. It is a bit short though I do agree, but he was so gorgeous I could have stayed there all day, he kept running his fingers through it and saying I was so lucky to have no grey hairs at my age and how thick it was.'

Thinking how thick you were no doubt.

'Shut up! I was blonde once. Something's up with Brigitta.'

'You were so not. Mouse maybe and not even the nice little brown field variety, well not now anyway... your real colour must be a paler shade of rat by now. Who?'

'Brigitta.'

'Oh you mean Mirabell?'

'Her name is Brigitta.'

'Well I call her Mirabell, actually! My new actress friend.'

'I don't care what her name is. Find out what's wrong. She's just sprung a very large leak and I'm not putting the fire on to dry her out.'

'Mean old witch!'

*Brrrrrrrr! Brrrrrrrr!*

'Phone!'

*Brrrrrr! Brrrrrr! Brrrrrr! Brrrrrr!*

'Phone!'

*Brrrrrr! Brrrrrr!*

Why do I have staff?

'Hello.'

'Hello it's me! Have you eaten?'

Hello it's me have you eaten? Oh right it's Angela, my self-appointed surrogate mother. When did she get back from Greece?

'Why does your voice sound funny? There's hardly a plum in sight.'

'I'm eating a chocolate éclair. I know I shouldn't be but I'm starting the diet again next week and I've had all my hair cut off so I'm bound to weigh a bit less.'

No Angela it doesn't work that way; fat is heavier than follicle fall out.

'Have you eaten?'

'Of course I haven't eaten! It's Saturday. Parkinson's law didn't take Saturdays in flower shops into consideration.'

'What do you mean?'

'Parkinson's Law: work expands to fill the time allocated for the completion of the job; I'm paraphrasing a bit. It fails in a flowers shop on a Saturday.'

'I didn't know that Michael Parkinson was a philosopher?'

I don't think Cyril was either. Political scientist, perhaps, but philosopher? No, don't even go there. It's all the same to Angela; the only science she understands is domestic and her handle on philosophy is borderline tenuous.

'I'll bring you a sandwich - you have to eat. You'll love my hair. I had it cut by this very famous American hairdresser. He cut it in the courtyard in the Villa for free! He usually charges five hundred dollars! He said 'Angel your cooking is divine... fit for the Gods, but your hair is... sh*t'. Can you believe it? Five hundred dollars for a hair cut and he uses words like that'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'So what's wrong with Brigitta?'

'Haaaaa! Haaaaa!'

'Keep your voice down, she'll hear you.'

'She said... Haaaaa! Haaaaa! She said, "I've only been here for two weeks and I've been dumped by my boyfriend, got a drink problem and I'm on Valium!" Haaaaa! Haaaaa!'

'So what did you say?'

'Don't worry - after a month you'll really have problems! Haaaaa! Haaaaa!'

'You're foul, you know that? Poor thing, what's she going to do?'

'She wants to hire a bear outfit and go round and apologise. Apparently she got very drunk and hurled abuse down the phone at him.'

'Don't you dare laugh again or I will too. Stuff a hanky into your mouth or something. What's this with a bear costume?'

'He calls her his little bear... I can't speak, I'll laugh again... Noooooo! Haaaaa! Haaaaa!'

'Shhhhh...'

'Now you're laughing!'

'At least I'm doing it silently.'

'She wants to go round to his house in a bear costume and take him a sunflower.'

'She wants certifying. Oh go on. You'd better take her into town and get her a b****y bear outfit - and buy Clarissa a jumper while you're at it, from the charity shop. She looks like a Romanian refugee anyway, so don't go wasting Top Shop on her.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Thanks for the sandwich. What is it?'

'Roast beef, horseradish and crispy Yorkshire pudding. Go on, eat it.'

Stop flicking your hair Angela... Dear G*d she's going to ask, I know she's going to ask. Another flick, a quick twirl... Please don't ask... It's dreadful; no it's worse than dreadful, it's criminal. He charges five hundred dollars for that? Jonathan Aitkin got locked up for lesser crimes. You look like a cabbage patch doll or Big Miss Doughy or Little Miss Fatty face... Please don't ask.

'What do you think?'

'It's a little short.'

'You don't like it! Everyone else likes it. What's wrong with it? Do you like my hair Clarissa? I had it cut by this really famous American hairdresser who charges five hundred dollars a time. And he did it for free because he liked my food, and he calls me Angel. It's nice isn't it?'

Stop doing goldfish impressions Clarissa, Angela doesn't expect a reply. Just smile and, if you must speak, say something useless like 'Oh Wow'. She's not after conversation, merely applause.

'I didn't say I didn't like it, I said it was a little short.'

'You hate it.'

'It's not the best I've ever seen, but that's just me. I don't do short hair. Patrick's had his cut too.'

'Who's talking about me? Oh Angelica! You're back! And you've had your hair cut, just like me. Uh, Uh, too divine. Oh food... Mmmm delicious. We've starved while you've been away; the old witch doesn't know how to cook - she doesn't know how to do anything, actually. I bet she said she didn't like it. She doesn't like mine, either, but that's because she jealous. We look young and she's just old and miserable. Oh, meet my new friend Mirabell. She's an actress actually. She doesn't always wear a bear suit, but she's had a bit of a lovers tiff and she's going to go round and see him now and take him a flower and say she's sorry. Mmmm these sandwiches are really good. Mirabell, have a sandwich - you too Clarissa, you need fattening up. Don't glare at me like that you miserable cow. You don't need one - you're supposed to be on a diet, remember?'

Why does this remind me of something? Clarissa baring her midriff, Angela bearing gifts that everyone else has eaten, A northern nutter running around in a bear outfit and Patrick being unbearable...
Dear Lord grant me forbearance and, if you're going to be the wolf, at least let me come back as a natural blonde.

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