Home for retired entertainers of absent minds...

On this un-summery day had you been peeking through your net curtains (Henny naughty girl that's our job, we'll not see you cornering the market in gossip) you would have seen me mounting my trusted Raleigh bicycle and setting off with a squeak at first and then that wonderful whoosh that comes of riding downhill. Where was I heading of to you might ask, you might well and as my mother used to tell me "don't ask is also don't get". No truer word ever spoken but that doesn't mean that if you ask one of those nice men in Busbies, if you could possibly be the Queen ,that you won't be arrested. But enough of trifles...flans, meringues ohh and those odd little ones that go round and round and contain raisins.... Sorry my mind wonders so.... I was on my way to our latest charitable doing, at the juncture of this world and your world (it all gets so awfully like that programme with the man in the yellow jumper sometimes -not his colour, too figure hugging- now what was that called... Star.....umm Trek that's right) . Its in this little anti - room so to speak that we have a little nursing home for elderly theatricals and singers, "Crotchet, Quaver and Corpse "... Some of whom ,and here I must be delicate, have forgotten who they are indeed many are a little confused as to their own gender.... I'm not a one to make pets of people I'm sure you all know that by now, but ohh dear I confess there are four rather dear to my heart. "Mary" He/She used to be a singer but now thinks she's a housewife.... "Audrey" Used to have a long running T.V series of his/her own but much too old now, likes little black dresses...... "Beth" Like the flame haired queen, temperamental and no doubt they are related, she smokes something that isn't tobacco but makes one feel rather good about ones self.... Lastly "Gwendolyn" thankfully she wasn't born a girl or what a disappointment for the parents. Now they are all awfully sweet. Mary keeps making me lovely cakes with Beth's help and they are delicious although I often find I don't even remember eating them, perhaps we have mice? This morning I'm afraid things were not particularly smooth when I got there, chaos reigned. Audrey (a committed socialist, and never very far from actually being committed - she will try to drive herself-) had set Mary's copy of the Telegraph alight.... I share her views but not the right way to go about it. Mary was beside herself which is harder than it looks, comforting herself by singing hits from her old albums which just made everyone else well....distraught and Mary a touch sweaty. So sweaty in fact that when I turned to her she seemed to be crying spiders, Beth ever superstitious had fled the room but they turned out to be Mary's false eyelashes (always a problem, why as cook could tell you they caused an incident at Christmas when they fell in the soup and one now lives as a result in London Zoos fine arachnid house as yet not zoologically classified ) I stuck 'em back on just as Beth returned with a cake. It must have been very good as we were all so happy afterwards, playing games although what they were I don't know.... Strange that. Still lovely "girls" I wouldn't be without them.... I think I'll buy Mary a fire extinguisher though or a subscription to the Independent.... Night, Night... Ohh my hot water bottles turned into an owl.....