It's been a very tough few days. A much loved uncle died very unexpectedly on Friday, and as the arrangements for the funeral swirl around us all, it's sometimes hard to find time to think, let alone time to write something to make you smile. But life has to go on, and I had a much needed afternoon with three very good friends yesterday, who shall henceforth be known as George, Zippy and Bungle. Ladies, you can work out between you which one you are, but needless to say, I am Jeffery!
After a lot of date haggling, I had finally managed to pin these three down for afternoon tea at a local cafe. It promised 'Afternoon Tea with Tea or Prosecco', and seemed the perfect venue for four old birds looking to put the world to rights. I had booked over the phone, and we all turned up at the allotted time, the yearning for cake too strong for us to be late.
'Did you book?' asked the small boy who seemed to be in charge.
'Why yes', I said. 'Four afternoon teas'.
'Afternoon teas?' he asked, running his finger over the empty diary page.
I looked around the premises, just to make sure that we were in the right place. After all, with four lots of failing eyesight (all too vain to wear glasses) there was a damn good chance that we might have wandered into an estate agent or chemist. Having assured myself and the other three reprobates that we were in the right place, we were ushered to the back of the cafe (away from decent folk) and placed our orders.
'So what do you want?' asked the girl child who was also working there. 'Sandwiches, scones, cakes?'
'Yes', I said rather firmly. 'As in an Afternoon Tea, which was what we booked, and what we are expecting'.
'No problem', she said, scurrying back to the kitchen, obviously now panicking over the lack of sandwiches, scones and cakes. Eventually, she was back with everything you would expect for an afternoon tea. Beautiful sandwiches, made with stunning bread, a selection of cakes, and the crowning glory...the scones.
Looking at the scones, I called the waitress over. 'Please could we have a another pot of jam and cream? I don't think that this will be enough'. (A reasonable enough request I thought).
'It's not cream. It's butter'....
I think I may have said this out loud, but even if I didn't, I think she got the idea that if clotted cream wasn't on the table within the next two minutes, that there was going to be blood shed (probably hers). She got that special look which I reserve for the husband and the children when they do something daft - it seemed to work.
'I'll see if there's any left over from the last afternoon tea we did'.
Another look, and she continued with, 'If there isn't any, I'll go over the road to buy some'.
So we got our full cream tea, and enough tea was drunk to keep PG in business for another year. My friends were fabulous company and we laughed and chatted for three hours.
Flaps and Twangers formed part of the discussion. The latter topic refers to this Rainbow sketch..
As to the flaps?
I can't possibly divulge...