It was a Thursday. I never could get the hang of Thursdays which was the reason I was late toasting the hot cross buns. But it was still early for visitors. My shift has seen better days, being washed so often that it is becoming see-through. Not a pretty sight at any time, especially when you reach my age.
The dog was going daft so there was nothing for it but to turn off the grill, throw on my dressing gown, fold my arms up and under the bosom, (à la Les Dawson) and open the door.
It turned out to be a very nice young man who wanted to know if I wanted the broken washing machine shifted from my drive. Yes please.
Would I move my car so he could get through? Not a problem.
Women didn’t wear underdrawers in the 17th century. It’s pretty draughty, let me tell you.
SueJEaton 