Phew Again

It crept up like a sly thing, banishing the early cold and bursting into sunlight and warmth against the promise of the forecast. The weather. What would we talk about without its capricious ways? I got caught out in Woodbridge where I'd taken my poker because its pokey bit fell off in the fire. The heat was too hot ha ha ha! The hardware store that sold it to me are looking into it. I should think they were a bit embarrassed, though the large New Zealand girl who dealt with me was smiley and jolly. "Noy problim", she told me. By the time I got to the garden centre I was baking, regretting my cosy vyella shirt and corduroy trousers. At least it meant I couldn't linger and spend too much. I bought a cistus and three containers of 6inch-long sweet peas. In the filling station on the way home was a lady from Essex, I won't say how I know. She had just filled a massive, brand new Mercedes four-by-four with petrol, but something else had to be added she thought. The garage weren't sure. "Check your handbook," they advised. "I 'aven't got an 'andbook," she snapped. "They never told me nuffink when they sold it me, they just wants yer money, but me friend said summink about it, and I gotta sort it cos I'm goin' under the knife Friday." The attendant's jaw dropped as the woman turned on the heel of her very high boots and marched out, rhinestones on the butt of her oh-so-tight jeans twinkling in the sun. At least I wasn't the only over-dressed person in Woodbridge today.