Dear Diary, There was a gentle knock on the front door around mid-morning; Niece, who was busy making a doll for a small relative for an upcoming birthday, hurriedly placed her work on the work table to see who was visiting. To my amazement I heard her ushering the guest in before she called to me to come into the kitchen for a cuppa. Obviously this guest was someone whom Niece knew well! It has been her habit to invite guests into the dining room, where she sets the table with bone china cups, and lays a spread of crackers and cheese, sweet biscuits, and invariably a home-made cake, though that man of hers often raids the cake tin on his way to the office ... he has a sweet tooth.
Hurrying along the passage it was possible to hear the conversation being held. Harold had popped in! Seems that he feels guilty about his sudden departure the other day, and there was I thinking I had been a little strident after the mishap with poor Greensmith and Redshaw. [Hearing that little tidbit gave me a clue as to how to react when I walked into the room. Forewarned is forearmed!]
I tapped at the kitchen door, in a show of genteelism; and ladylike, walked in.
"Harold, my dear!" I gushed. "How lovely to see you." I place a kiss on his cheek, noticing he had used Old Spice aftershave before leaving home.
Harold blushed at my effusive welcome, though restrained himself enough not to kiss me back. I had hoped he would; Niece would have had something to tell that man of hers after work when I was safely ensconced in my room.
Niece played Mother, pouring tea, offering milk and sugar, and passed around the well-laden cake plates. Give Harold his due; he must have come out without eating breakfast as he sampled every offering, praising Niece for her wonderful baking.
It was obvious that I wouldn't get a word in this morning; Niece and Harold were deep in conversation while I gazed around the room looking for a means of escape.
"Harold," cooed Niece, " how long have you lived in Newtown? Are you a widower? How do you fill in the days of your retirement?"
I sat, waiting anxiously for the question 'How much money do you have in the bank?' Niece did display some decorum as she enquired of Harold if he read much. I breathed a sigh of relief. This morning tea was becoming an inquisition. There had to be some way to divert Harold's attention.
"Oh Harold," I said, "Would you like to come and see how Greensmith and Redshaw have settled in after their upset the other day?"
Harold grasped the opportunity to leave the conversation that had become too personal, and together we headed to my room where the goldfish awaited inspection.
Dear Diary, you have to admit that inspecting goldfish is an improvement on the old line, come upstairs and view my etchings!
Hurrying along the passage it was possible to hear the conversation being held. Harold had popped in! Seems that he feels guilty about his sudden departure the other day, and there was I thinking I had been a little strident after the mishap with poor Greensmith and Redshaw. [Hearing that little tidbit gave me a clue as to how to react when I walked into the room. Forewarned is forearmed!]
I tapped at the kitchen door, in a show of genteelism; and ladylike, walked in.
"Harold, my dear!" I gushed. "How lovely to see you." I place a kiss on his cheek, noticing he had used Old Spice aftershave before leaving home.
Harold blushed at my effusive welcome, though restrained himself enough not to kiss me back. I had hoped he would; Niece would have had something to tell that man of hers after work when I was safely ensconced in my room.
Niece played Mother, pouring tea, offering milk and sugar, and passed around the well-laden cake plates. Give Harold his due; he must have come out without eating breakfast as he sampled every offering, praising Niece for her wonderful baking.
It was obvious that I wouldn't get a word in this morning; Niece and Harold were deep in conversation while I gazed around the room looking for a means of escape.
"Harold," cooed Niece, " how long have you lived in Newtown? Are you a widower? How do you fill in the days of your retirement?"
I sat, waiting anxiously for the question 'How much money do you have in the bank?' Niece did display some decorum as she enquired of Harold if he read much. I breathed a sigh of relief. This morning tea was becoming an inquisition. There had to be some way to divert Harold's attention.
"Oh Harold," I said, "Would you like to come and see how Greensmith and Redshaw have settled in after their upset the other day?"
Harold grasped the opportunity to leave the conversation that had become too personal, and together we headed to my room where the goldfish awaited inspection.
Dear Diary, you have to admit that inspecting goldfish is an improvement on the old line, come upstairs and view my etchings!
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