Flossy here!
Good Grief!
They are all coming out of the woodwork now. Enough of all this silliness.
Old Bunty is not herself at the moment. Hardly surprising given that her prize rhubarb has got the blight, and it looks like she won't have anything interesting to show to the president of the Horticultural Society next week. I think we all need to be a little patient with her, because after all, the Flower Show has been the highlight of her year since the GI's went home in 1945.
The old girl needs to get out more, and so she will.
The plain facts are that Bunty and I are travelling alone down to London tomorrow morning. We have scheduled our meeting and interview with Mr Clarke, and it will all go off swimmingly.
There will be no mobile homes, no Russians, and certainly no more spurious old ladies who patently are not the genuine article. And let me get one more thing absolutely clear. There will be no more mention of Sutton on Sea! That poor woman is obviously unhinged.
Thank God Bunt and I are made of stronger stuff. Never fear, we will make our intrepid way to Barnet, carry out our task with vim and vigour, and report back pronto! No job too great for us gells!
Must get a jolly good night's sleep now. I've tanked up the Norton, packed the sandwiches and filled my flask.
Tutti Avanti!
Floss Goodboddy, signing out!
