Blogsbody accepts Dr Sophy’s invite to jump into Facebook with her
Blogsbody had no idea, Sophy,
Feverish, taken to his bed and neither hearing nor seeing workmen pass his first-floor bedroom window armed with scaffolding. Waking on fire. And, in his delirium, imagining he is incarcerated in Kingston Penitentiary overlooking Tichborne, Ontario, a break-out away from Canada’s famed Land of the Lakes.
Later yesterday, unaware of your academic pedigree, HSC Blogsbody, opens his e-mail to read:
My dear new friend,
Charlie’s chickens are paying a high price. For not a few hours ago, I watched them play Dead Soldier to appease him. Charlie thinks he is hypnotizing them. They, too, feel his fear. So, you see, we must act now. If nothing else, for his chickens’ sake.
I shall stand by the Cressroads.
All love,
Sophy x
Oh doctor! Doctor of fine arts!
Screw the chickens, when you’ve more urgent need to know the kindness of Lloyd’s of London insures a ‘fine art collection of letters from international notables’ for two of Blogsbody’s nippers by his third set of nuptials.
See 23/04/09 - Happy St. George’s Day for your taster of their His & Her Nib’s Marathon, blessed by the Pope and approved by the Queen Mum at the time of their primary schooldays, after your learned status is revealed to Cressroads’ town hack by Simon-the-Webmaster.
IT master of Blogsbody’s Continuing Story of Cressroads; and who, together with his wife Kay-the-Camera, were among villagers introduced to you by Charlie-the-Bard in the lounge bar of the Arms this past Monday-darts-night.
Sad to say - but it’s the truth - Old Blogsbody was more gobsmacked by your womanly well-being, dancing eyes and ready wit. Not finding you the least bit bookish. And why he so eagerly accepted your invite to jump into Facebook with you.
Oh, no!
“You’re thinking you may have swine flu?” Cressroads Surgery misunderstands his request for antibiotics. And no such ’scrip without a doctor’s visit, a reluctant appointment is made with its Dr Away-in-a-Cribb for tomorrow early doors.
No! No!
A pale blue Tardus for a portable chemical loo lands on the uneven surface to the front of Blogsbody’s tired Lower House of Windsor located on the wrong side of the tracks for the town’s Watercress Line; and, weather permitting, a firm of Portsmouth roofers threatens to make a start on taking the lid off the 57-year-old, city-built property in time for Blogsbody’s return from the doctor’s.
Oh so wishing you were here, Dr Sophy,
Bloggy-at-the-Cressroads
Mistress Sophy, PhD, comments by return of post: Master Mike, what an honour … in return I send you healing thoughts to cool your brow (failing that, two Paracetomol and a swig of whisky should suffice) … Sophy x
