Love, Life, the Universe & Everything

Mary Hitler's words continued to ring in Julian's mind. "It's not that good," she had said, "but it's witty." Julian mused and had to admit to being suspicious. Suspicious that all it took was for Mr Lovely Goodness not to read it any more for him to be alright. He had listened to Hermione. "Don't read it," Hermione had said, and Mr Lovely Goodness hadn't and didn't. His words rang in her ears as well. "This other stuff has to stop," he had said.
'Goodness', thought Julian. Her sons had told her off, her friends had told her off. Mary had scolded her beyond belief. And yet, no-one had been able to tell her why it was so bad. Mixing fiction with non-fiction, was it really so bad? If someone would just explain, then there would be no problem. It seemed to Julian that a lot of people were just a little bit precious about themselves and their actions. They needed to lighten up a bit.
William strolled into the room and wanted to know where Ulrich had got to. William had taken rather a liking to Ulrich and was already missing him, in a cat sort of way, which was 'ah well, take it in your stride. He was here and now he was gone'. Ulrich was in Sydney, on his way to Perth, followed by Wollongong, followed by Bellingen, followed by Brisbane. Ulrich was on the move. George was also on the move. He was heading to Bali. Jewellery and houses were on his schedule. Julian was coming close to travelling to the UK to visit Pitt the Elder and the French Spanish Connection, Chumpy Chops. She also had a Shakespearean cuz piloting yachts on the Mediterranean, based in Palma de Mallorca, Hollywood Pete. She was going to pop in and sleep on the floor of his Spanish flat. Not only that, her da lived in Scarborough, England, and she had yet to meet him. If she went soon, she would be able to take Pitt and Chops. They could reminisce about all the good times they had never had, due to circumstances outside of their control, together. George wasn't keen. All he thought about was money. Mind you, to be fair, it was tough creating a living in this day and age. Julian had friends who could barely afford to eat, but weren't particularly interested when they could. Julian's heart went out to Mary. Mary was in a pickle. Edgar had admitted feelings at last. You would think that Mary would be over the moon, and in a sense she was. "Tread carefully, dear," she had said to Julian as she got thinner and thinner. Julian was getting fatter and fatter. 'Hand over some of that stress,' she had implored. She had thin Mary on one side and motivated, health conscious, fit Hermione on the other. Few of her clothes fit her and her motivation for getting out of the house was fading fast. "Ah, me," she bemoaned, and to make matters worse, she had just found an internet scrabble site. All she needed.

Mary Hitler Stoops to The Sink of Despair

The despondency was palpable.
"Was it?" asked George, who genuinely didn't know.
"Yes, it was," replied Julian, as she unhooked the gate, which swung heavily and closed with a metallic, rusty heavy bang. The gate used to squeak unmercifully, driving the inhabitants crazy, until Julian recognised it's potential. No-one could arrive unannounced! She began to love the unpainted, squeaky gate. Until, one day, Candy Perfume Girl arrived having an Episode. Candy was angry and no-one could do a thing about it. She flounced and yelled and carried on a treat. George rang Sir Bobby Felt who arrived with his son and alacrity. Both the Bobby boys understood because they had had episodes of their own. The Big Bobby had tried to drive his motorbike into a telegraph pole in South Australia, in his pajamas, with his heavily pregnant wife running down the darkened road after him, calling out, "Don't, Bobby, don't." She gave birth to the first child the next day, and it goes without saying that the baby Bobby went on to episode with aplomb. Generally with suicidal thoughts and great mental darkness.
The Bobbies were there to help, but Candy Perfume Girl wasn't having any of it. She slammed her way through the house and through life, horrified by her actions the following day, but this was still 'today' so all was hunky dory. She marched along the garden path to the gate after punching her way through the bathroom and down the wooden stairs, shaking the house. The garden gate suffered from the heavy force administered in its closing, and was never to squeak again. Julian was more than a little sorry about that. Big Bobby tried grabbing her by her shirt and throwing her to the ground and shouting in her face, "What are you doing to your family," he yelled, inches from her nose. Perfume Girl was horrified and it took her years to forgive.
Meanwhile, Mary hadn't finished the champagne and didn't intend to and was washing the dishes. Something was rotten in the state of Denmark and it stunk like a dead cat. Julian marvelled at the maturity and wisdom of middle-age. Everyone knew something smelly was going on, but everyone just 'carried on regardless'. It was all very British of them, despite 3 of the dinner party coming from Connecticut. Julian proudly displayed the Connecticut key hanging doorknob to them all, an appropriate gift from Mary. The doorknob was a doorknob to nowhere and invited being turned daily. A fitting symbol of life in these dark ages.

The Italian Titanic Edwardian Fiasco Affair

Guiliano Fairfaxamino Mayhemanino said...

Giuliano was planning a dinner party. It was going to be an Edwardian affair, and she had got the idea from yet another cookbook. This one entitled, 'The Last Dinner On The Titanic'. It was going to be a bit of a mammoth undertaking, which is why it had been almost 10 years in the planning, but G. was getting closer, she could feel it in her bones. Was food an obsession? Remember, G., it's only food, not love. Nevertheless, she knew that the Hitler's and the Woe's, and the Woebegotten's, and the Flue's would absolballyutley love it. Adore it. Appreciate it. And this time, she swore that she would get some help with those blasted dishes.
"I bloomin' will", she swore.
Mind you, we all know that by the end of the evening, G. had had enough, and, let's face it, if anything can wait, it's those bloomin' dishes, pots, pans, glasses, knives, forks, spoons and sideplates.
She also knew how many dishes the Titanic actually used. So this time, it was unavoidable, as the beautifully Edwardian dressed women were gonna 'ave ta wosh some of the plates, 'cos if it didn't 'appen, they'd 'ave to eat off the dirty ones, & that's the way it woz...."
There had to be a way around it & if there woz, G. & Mary would find it.