Date line:- Thursday
Time line:- 2:00pm
Head line:- I am depressed Blog.
Am I worried Blog? Yes I am. Am I depressed Blog? Yes I am. Am I lacking focus Blog? Yes I am. The quality of my trudging is giving me much cause for concern - I am unable to concentrate fully. It is now Thursday and I have heard nothing from the Village Committee about me winning the Scarecrow Competition at this year’s Allesley Village Festival. Not a dickie bird. I had expected by now that the press would have been clamouring at the estate gates wanting an interview and wanting my presence at the scarecrow display for a photographic shoot. I have purposely stayed in all week in anticipation of the media interest. I have been wearing my Olympic suit and tie since Sunday afternoon so that there would be no delay in posing for a photo shot; I have to confess Blog that I am beginning to smell a little after wearing the same clothes all week. I do hope the press will be here tomorrow otherwise I may take things in hand and phone the editor myself. And have a shower. I shall explain to the editor that I have not actually received confirmation of my being the outright winner of the Scarecrow Competition at this year’s Allesley Village Festival, but as my display is so superior, they might like to do an interview now in anticipation of the inevitable, just to save everyone being inconvenienced next week.
I am starting to regret in a serious way, allowing the staff to organise this display. They are doing nothing by way of maintenance of the display. With all the rain we have had, Paula’s tissues and toilet roll have to be changed regularly every day as they get soaking wet. The loo rolls are costing me a fortune. I never realised that they cost so much. I think I shall have to have words with my wife on the subject of toilet roll expense and suggest we go back to using torn up squares of the ‘Daily Mirror’ just as we did as children. We did Blog, I kid you not. And another thing Blog, I overheard a small child telling her mother that the Tom Daley scarecrow was rubbish. Rubbish. Don’t they teach them respect at schools nowadays Blog. Rubbish indeed. A clip round the earhole I should think would be in order Blog?
I think I have told you before Blog that Coventry Council operate a coloured dustbin lid in tyheri refuse collection service. Green lid for house hold waste, brown for compost waste and blue for bottles, plastic and paper; the blue and brown are emptied on alternate weeks, the green every week. This week was brown bin week. Of course if you look closely at the scarecrow pictures I sent you Blog, you will see that Rita is using the brown bin for her synchronised swim display. Well, it was lucky I was down at the gate this morning Blog, checking to see if the press were actually coming to interview me in case they had got misdirected, when the refuse men turned up with their lorry. In normal circumstances I would not have social intercourse with the likes of them but they tried to empty my brown lidded bin, the one from which Rita’s legs were clearly protruding. I said to them to steady on, that the brown bin was part of my scarecrow display in the Allesley Village Festival Scarecrow Competition. They said that they did not care if the bin was part of the scarecrow display in the Allesley Village Festival Scarecrow Competition or not; it was brown bin day and brown bin day meant that brown bins had to be emptied whether Rita’s legs were sticking up or Rita’s legs were sticking down, it made no difference. I asked them if they knew who I was and one of them said was I Rita’s husband and the others in the dustcart cab all fell about laughing. I need not tell you Blog, that I did not join in their laughter. I did not regard the comment as at all amusing. As they were laughing and before they could react, I grabbed the bin and dashed up the driveway towards the Mansion. I was worried about Rita’s legs as they were waving around in a most undignified way. I was quite embarrassed for those young men in the dustcart. However I was not deterred and I shouted at them that if they tried to follow me I would have them arrested and taken to court for trespass. It had the desired effect, and they drove off, for some reason gesturing to me that it was two o’clock. Clearly they were trying to be amusing as it was not yet 10 o’clock in the morning.
I shall now go and find the telephone number of the local paper’s editor so that I can communicate with him tomorrow as soon as the newspaper office opens.
Colin
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