I didn't want to mention the Gazette until you'd had a chance to settle down again after the move, so I'm quite delighted that you've beaten me to it! And an excellent choice of day for the next visit as well :) I shall... provide the paper for the day after Valentine's Day actually, but you'll see why :)
East Wallingford Gazette: Valentine's Day Your ardent reporter here at the East Wallingford Gazette is delighted to announce that Valentine's Day was spent happily curled up on the sofa for most of the day, with mugs of hot chocolate, boxes of chocolates, a chocolate easter egg left over from last year, slices of chocolate cake, and a chocolate labrador called Charlie. As I'm feeling oddly unwell this morning (must have been the toasted nutella sandwich I had for supper) we shall have a special post-Valentine's day issue of Missed Connections so that those of you who had a slightly worse day yesterday have a chance to improve it by next weekend!
You:probably underage, trying to buy cigarettes from the dealer in the garden of East Wallingford Library when he only had crystal meth to sell, wearing ripped jeans that looked like they'd been on the losing side of a dog fight. I was the older woman with a limp you brushed past after you realised you weren't getting any cigarettes and you knocked my handbag to the ground and kicked my cane away. Meet me at the East Wallingford Breakfast&Eggs Cafe tomorrow and I'll teach you to respect your elders!
You:Well, you're Anaglypta Despetitpois, everyone knows you. You were stood outside the Opera House on Valentine's Day crying into a bunch of red, red roses, little droplets of blood falling from their thorns. I was the gentleman who stopped and asked if you were alright and you shoved the flowers roughly into my arms and ran off. I'd like to return those flowers and wipe those tears away and maybe even sign a pre-nup. You game?
You:You were wearing a blue leotard and performing a tumbling routine outside the East Wallingford Circus, advertising the Valentine's Day's show. I'm the guy who was watching you and leant backwards and accidentally let the lion out of its cage. I'm really sorry that you got chased up a tree and were stuck there for an hour before the Fire Brigade could rescue you. Can I buy you lunch this week sometime, and tell you about the time I got stuck in the East Wallingford Sewer outlet to make up for it?
You: Chief Constable of the West Wallingford police force, last seen on Valentine's day trying to arrest an East Wallingford citizen for just being there. Me: Chief Constable of East Wallingford police force; I saw what you did Albert, and I'm not amused. Meet me outside the old lemonade factory at 7pm tonight and come alone. We'll settle this mano-a-mano, the old fashioned way. Pint afterwards?
What, again? Didn't we have this greeting-card-company-invented holiday last month? Oh, that was Valentino's Day? Someday someone is really going to have to tell me the story of how East Wallingford's only Italian restaurant got its own public holiday...
Right, Valentine's Day.
As has become an annual tradition here at the Gazette, I spent the morning with Edna and Clarence Hamilton, East Wallingford's longest married couple.
"What?" Clarence yelled from behind his screen door after I informed him of the reason for my visit. After I repeated myself several times and invented a hitherto unknown sign language, I was allowed inside and joined the couple at their dinner table.
"Good, isn't it?" Edna yelled after I took a sip of the criminally over-sugared coffee she had placed before me. Having to reply with only a nod in order to avoid making offense - and spraying the drink all over my hosts - she shared that they drank ten cups a day, down from the twelve they used to consume. "Concession to old age," she said with a chuckle that rattled her fake teeth.
"What?" Clarence yelled again.
While the couple can no longer agree on how long they've been together, the Gazette's archives show that they were married in October of 1945 after a whirlwind, one month courtship.
"Clare Bear was such a romantic," Edna confided. "He used to write the most... well... naughty poems. Would you like to see a few? I still have them around somewhere..."
"No!" I yelled, unintentionally matching the general volume of their conversation. "I mean, no, thank you. I simply haven't the time."
"What?" Clarence again, in case you haven't figured out his part of the story yet.
When asked (repeatedly, at ever increasing volume) what the secret of their longevity was, Edna didn't mince words.
2 comments:
I didn't want to mention the Gazette until you'd had a chance to settle down again after the move, so I'm quite delighted that you've beaten me to it! And an excellent choice of day for the next visit as well :) I shall... provide the paper for the day after Valentine's Day actually, but you'll see why :)
East Wallingford Gazette: Valentine's Day
Your ardent reporter here at the East Wallingford Gazette is delighted to announce that Valentine's Day was spent happily curled up on the sofa for most of the day, with mugs of hot chocolate, boxes of chocolates, a chocolate easter egg left over from last year, slices of chocolate cake, and a chocolate labrador called Charlie. As I'm feeling oddly unwell this morning (must have been the toasted nutella sandwich I had for supper) we shall have a special post-Valentine's day issue of Missed Connections so that those of you who had a slightly worse day yesterday have a chance to improve it by next weekend!
You:probably underage, trying to buy cigarettes from the dealer in the garden of East Wallingford Library when he only had crystal meth to sell, wearing ripped jeans that looked like they'd been on the losing side of a dog fight. I was the older woman with a limp you brushed past after you realised you weren't getting any cigarettes and you knocked my handbag to the ground and kicked my cane away. Meet me at the East Wallingford Breakfast&Eggs Cafe tomorrow and I'll teach you to respect your elders!
You:Well, you're Anaglypta Despetitpois, everyone knows you. You were stood outside the Opera House on Valentine's Day crying into a bunch of red, red roses, little droplets of blood falling from their thorns. I was the gentleman who stopped and asked if you were alright and you shoved the flowers roughly into my arms and ran off. I'd like to return those flowers and wipe those tears away and maybe even sign a pre-nup. You game?
You:You were wearing a blue leotard and performing a tumbling routine outside the East Wallingford Circus, advertising the Valentine's Day's show. I'm the guy who was watching you and leant backwards and accidentally let the lion out of its cage. I'm really sorry that you got chased up a tree and were stuck there for an hour before the Fire Brigade could rescue you. Can I buy you lunch this week sometime, and tell you about the time I got stuck in the East Wallingford Sewer outlet to make up for it?
You: Chief Constable of the West Wallingford police force, last seen on Valentine's day trying to arrest an East Wallingford citizen for just being there. Me: Chief Constable of East Wallingford police force; I saw what you did Albert, and I'm not amused. Meet me outside the old lemonade factory at 7pm tonight and come alone. We'll settle this mano-a-mano, the old fashioned way. Pint afterwards?
A Love Story Of The Aged
It's Valentine's Day!
What, again? Didn't we have this greeting-card-company-invented holiday last month? Oh, that was Valentino's Day? Someday someone is really going to have to tell me the story of how East Wallingford's only Italian restaurant got its own public holiday...
Right, Valentine's Day.
As has become an annual tradition here at the Gazette, I spent the morning with Edna and Clarence Hamilton, East Wallingford's longest married couple.
"What?" Clarence yelled from behind his screen door after I informed him of the reason for my visit. After I repeated myself several times and invented a hitherto unknown sign language, I was allowed inside and joined the couple at their dinner table.
"Good, isn't it?" Edna yelled after I took a sip of the criminally over-sugared coffee she had placed before me. Having to reply with only a nod in order to avoid making offense - and spraying the drink all over my hosts - she shared that they drank ten cups a day, down from the twelve they used to consume. "Concession to old age," she said with a chuckle that rattled her fake teeth.
"What?" Clarence yelled again.
While the couple can no longer agree on how long they've been together, the Gazette's archives show that they were married in October of 1945 after a whirlwind, one month courtship.
"Clare Bear was such a romantic," Edna confided. "He used to write the most... well... naughty poems. Would you like to see a few? I still have them around somewhere..."
"No!" I yelled, unintentionally matching the general volume of their conversation. "I mean, no, thank you. I simply haven't the time."
"What?" Clarence again, in case you haven't figured out his part of the story yet.
When asked (repeatedly, at ever increasing volume) what the secret of their longevity was, Edna didn't mince words.
"Oh, one hundred percent the sex."
"What?"
"The sex, dear."
"What?"
"Sex!"
"Right now? Well hell, why not?"
I showed myself out.
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