A Lady of Letters
I passed the place where there was the broken step I wrote to the council was a danger to the public. Little ramp there now, access for the disabled. Whenever I pass I think, “Well, that’s thanks to you, Irene.” My monument that ramp. Only some dog had gone and done its business right in the middle of it. I’m sure there’s more of that than there used to be. I had a little AwayDay to London last year and it was dog dirt everywhere. I spotted some on the pavement right outside Buckingham Palace.
I wrote to the Queen about it.
Waiting for the Telegram
I can’t reckon up names. New nurse on this afternoon, bonny little thing, helping Francis put me to bed for my lie down. I said, “What’s your name, love?” She says, “Devon.” I said, “That’s never a name, it’s a place.
She says, “Yes, a very beautiful place. My mam and dad used to go on holiday there.” I said, “Well, it’s a good job they didn’t go to Skegness.”
She looks right mad, only Francis laughs so she laughs an’ all. I think she’s got her eye on him.
Miss Fozzard Finds Her Feet
He said, “Of course as soon as you walked in I picked you out as a professional woman.” I said, “How?” He said, “By your discreet choice of accessories.” I said, “Well, I favor a conservative approach to fashion, peppy but classic if you know what I mean.” He said, “I do…. Do you know why I chose the profession of chiropody?” I said, “No.” He said, “It’s so that I could kneel at the feet of thousands of women and my wife would never turn a hair.”
I said, “Oh. Is there a Mrs. Dunderdale?” He said, “There was. She passed over.”