One of the lines that always got one of the biggest laughs in the Ladykillers belonged to Mrs Wilberforce. We’d stand behind the set waiting for our cue and the wonderful Marcia Warren, or no less wonderful Angela Thorne would deliver the line: Our tea-time is three; we’re old, we get up at four-thirty.
The last two mornings I’ve found those words going round in my head as I’ve woken up just after four on both days. I didn’t get up, of course. No way! I watched tv and read, but it did set me pondering the question: does this mean I’m now officially old? I sincerely hope not. I think it just means that as I’ve spent most of the week resting and sleeping with my throat infection and bad cough that I’ve run out of tired before dawn. Yes! That’s what it is!
I feel a bit better now, thanks for all your kind wishes. But not completely better. I found myself in floods of tears this morning watching a lovely single mum called Helene on Wanted Down Under. She was a widow who worked hard and so wanted a new life for her family. I really hope she finds it as she deserves to, but the fact I was grizzling shows me I’m still run down! I need to start eating good, proper food. Today I’ve bunged chicken, sweet potatoes and peppers in the slow cooker with lots of garlic, ginger, basil, onions and tomatoes in an attempt to boost my immune system. I know I should eat like that as the norm, but not always possible. But today, athough I can’t smell it because of my blocked nose, if feels nice knowing that the aroma is wafting through the flat. Because I’m worth it! And best wishes to the Brother, who’s in bed with man-flu. Wish him better!
I saw yesterday that a couple from that well-known reality TV show Benefits Palace visited Essex. They went to the Bell at Purleigh, a lovely pub where the Elder Nephew works part-time and where we had a fabulous lunch on Boxing Day, although, I hasten to point out, that I arrived in my little Fiesta having paid my own petrol and not in a helicopter paid by the British Tax Payer. The food was really good and the place itself, charming and it’s thought to have been the home of George Washington’s great-great-great grandfather. And in spite of the type of people it now seems to be attracting, I will still go there.
