This is entirely fiction. Completely. Utterly. Except for any true bits
July 4th. 9.02am. Any idea that Independence Day might be enjoyed in this corner of Merrie Oldie England is shattered by First Of Her Name’s daily strategy call with First Born.
‘The Male Heir has a girlfriend.’
Normally this would be greeted with bunting and the ritualistic murder of an overweight porker because the Male Heir’s relationships have tended to the sort term viz measured in hours rather than days. Somehow the combination of First Of Her Name’s expression (hovering between ingested wasp and unanaesthetised root canal work) and her actions (evisceration of John Lewis cushion) indicates this is not so.
10.47am. Still no clue as to best course of action. Cushion innards now joined by potting compost (from smittereened cactus pot), coffee (attempt no. 1 to mollify) and fourteen blueberries (from fist slam next to fruit bowl that followed coffee)
11.29am. Three further calls between First Born and First Of her Name. I have (strategically) eavesdropped and ascertained the following:
1. new girlfriend is American
2. she is not human
3. she has aggressive bosoms and a weaponized fanny (sic: I think this is a reference to the American area of that name) on which canapes may be served
4. the Fiancé made a strategic mistake in his aural and optical appraisal of said girlfriend
12.41pm First Born has announced the wedding is off.
12.42pm First Of Her Name is in tears.
12.43pm I am in tears. I may need to have my hand reset
12.44pm First Born is on her way to see Male Heir. I am charged with ‘doing something’. Determine it will be safer if I follow First Born to the greengrocers where the Male Heir stacks beetroots.
1.23pm. Arrive at same moment as police car. Assume altercation between First Born and Male Heir. Seek to place myself between forces of law and order and warring children.
1.24pm Appear to have assaulted police in the act of buying his lunch viz pushed him into a display of novelty tomatoes. As I’m led away see First Born and Male Heir laughing.
9.27pm Am released after a warning as to my future behaviour. Back home, First Of Her Name, First Born and Male Heir enjoying fish supper. Girlfriend cannot come to wedding due to operation on her aggressive verrucas. No one asks where I’ve been. When I ask if the wedding is still off, am treated to withering looks and mild belabouring about head.
9.34pm. In pub.