Sunday, 23 November 2008

Sunday 23 November 2008

A somewhat traumatic blog entry this evening, pregnant with potential disaster. But first, dear reader, I shall lull you into a false sense of security with some good news. The very best news.

My partner's sister-in-law has been safely delivered of her pup. Ewan (adorable nephew, not numpty workplace hound) has a brand new little sister! We were somewhat surprised, as we were sure we had seen a little winkle on the foetal scan pictures - but there we go. The little girl has been named Carys, and Ewan is delighted with his new sibling. Here are a couple of pictures, to charm and delight you:




Bless 'em.

My partner's preparations for her pantomime continue apace. Alas, she has performed the usual trick of recording her many lines onto CD and listening to them constantly, leading to much confusion when I am trying to locate her about the house. It isn't fair.

But this is not the trauma to which I alluded. That occurred on Friday.

I was out on my walk with Maisie, and arrived at the park at the same time as young Harvey, my former protegée. We ambled down through the park together, chatting about the new beauty in my workplace, Fizzy. I was careful not to be too explicit, however, Harvey not being the most discreet of lads. We were just remarking on the uncharacteristic absence of Candy (my girlfriend), when a sudden scream from the bottom of the park roused us. We both trained our eyes in the scream's direction and saw several flashes of white feather, followed by more screams and the sound of splashing. It was immediately clear: Candy was being attacked by the devil-swan - the purest lump of malevolent evil that has ever been! (See my entry for Thursday 28 June 2007 for more about this foul scion of Satan).


Harvey and I wasted no time in rushing to her aid. We were just in time. Candy was in the water, under ferocious and repeated attack, while her partner attempted to save her.
"Oi!" I yelled, my fear of the swan not even thought of in the heat of my anger, "Get your wings off her!"
"Yeah!" called Harvey, always eager to back me up, but never quite sure what to say, "Erm - what he said!!"
The swan didn't even look up.

"Don't make me come in there after you...!" I snarled. The evil psycho-swan glared at me and hissed malevolently. Candy seized this opportunity to scramble away from him and clambered onto the riverbank, taking refuge behind her brave saviours. Seeing that he was faced with not one, but two angry Staffordshires, plus the rapidly-recovering Candy, our nemesis decided that discretion was indeed the better part of "valour" on this occasion. He paddled away, but not before he turned to me with an evil gleam in his eye, saying,
"There will be an answer for this, boy, you mark my words..."
"I'd welcome it." I sneered. But now was not the time for such things. Candy must be attended to.

"Oh, thank you boys," she gasped, "You saved me. Thank goodness you came when you did - I thought I was a goner." We escorted her back into the park.
"Our pleasure, Candy." said Harvey.
Candy gave me a big kiss.
"Thank you, Fizzy." I said.

Oops.

"Fizzy?" said Candy. Harvey made a little "Urk!" sound and flinched, as though someone was coming at him with a big stick.

"Er, heh heh, who said Fizzy? I didn't." I spluttered, wildly attempting to extricate myself from my faux pas.
"You said it." replied Candy, looking quizzical, "Just now. Who is Fizzy?"
"Fizzy?" I replied, nervously, "Errrr..." I looked for support to Harvey. He had developed a sudden fascination with a tiny mushroom poking up through the grass and was examining it closely.

"Yes." replied Candy, searching my face with her deep brown eyes. They felt like lasers, burning through my flesh. "Come on Jasper. Who is Fizzy?"
"Err, heh heh, Harvey? Did you mention Fizzy?" I turned desperately again to Harvey, but he was still determinedly concentrating on his mushroom and would not hear me.
Candy cleared her throat. She was not going to let this one go.

"Errr... Fizzy... Fizz... Fizz... Fizzzzshe's a jolly good fellow! For she's a jolly good fellow! For she's a jolly good feh-eeh-looow! Which nobody can deny!"
"Which nobody can deny!" joined in Harvey, looking mightily relieved, his reedy little treble swelling my song. We worked our way through to the "And so say all of us!", at the end of which, Candy was delighted.

"You are too lovely!" she exclaimed. I breathed what was possibly the longest sigh of relief of my life. A narrow escape.

"Football!" cried Harvey, "Let's play football, to cheer us all up!" Candy and I concurred. "I hate bl**dy mushrooms." I heard the little dog mutter as he bounded over to his partner to request his football.

I simply MUST remember to think before I speak. Candy is a relatively benevolent woman, but were I to utter such an indiscretion before my wife, Isolde, at Christmas, I'd be toast.

Good night.
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