Hickory Dickory Dock…..

it’s 23.03, although for the sake of my body clock it’s only 3 minutes past ten.
The clocks go back tonight and I’m pleased about that, an extra hour in bed.
I have to change the time on the cube radio clock in the bedroom.
I did have a round ticking clock that hung on the wall in my bedroom but Debborah, my nearasdamnitson’s paramour left it on the floor in the bathroom, because the tick was too loud, and somebody stood on it!
I have to change the clock on the microwave, the clock on the oven and the read out on my mobile. Back in the cottage there is the oven clock, the terracotta clock on the kitchen wall, the microwave clock, the old clock in the piano room, the fancy french clock in my bedroom, the radio alarm, B’s cube radio clock in the attic and then there’s the telly clock.
all that palava for an extra hour, it takes me that long to reset all the time pieces.

So whatever time it is it’s the end of another day.
Most of it was taken up with me writing a speech for the opening of PAUL YOUNG’s chocolate shop off Threadneedle Sreet in the City.
I put on some make-up, dried my hair, applied some ballsy scent and booked a car to get me there by 7.00. In the event I was early, so I buttoned up my fancy coat and wandered around EC3. The bells of an old church struck on the half, then the hour, the same chime as Big Ben. The tiny snickets are narrow and Dickensian with names like Hogarth Court and Change Alley, when the bells rung I felt like I had lived there before.
The shops are very high-end indeed Gucci, Jo Malone, Agent Provocateur, Hermes, and sitting on a shiny black bronze plinthe, overseeing all that opulence is MR. GEORGE PEABODY the American philanthropist from Danvers in the USA.
He has an avuncular smile and a waistcoat that is about to pop its buttons. When poverty was at it highest in the 1830’s good old George doled out dosh and built mansion blocks. I used to live in one in Wapping.
Now his statue surveys the scene as another high-rise bank is erected.
About 30 people met inside, and out, of the shop, we all gathered aroung Paul’s tiny little emporium of shelves, spiral staircases and rows and rows of hand made chocolate.
Paul Young has received more accolades than the Beckham’s but is still an unaffected lad from Co.Durham.
We tasted sea salt caramels, masala filled truffles, chilli chocolates and shiny 70% cacao chock full of tropical fruit liqueur.
After the speech, which went down well thank you, I was driven back to Streatham for a glass of Winter Pimms, then back to the flat to Jim who still had his make-up on from the film, he looked like Groucho Marx.
We ordered an Indian take away and watched the re-run of X Factor.
If I didn’t have indigestion before the programme I certainly did after it.
It’s now nearly LBC time.
Jims asleep, he’s got a 6.00am call. B’s asleep on the settee, she’s got work at 8.30. Clarence and Debborah are asleep in their room, Tao is asleep in her cot at the end of their bed, and I’m gazing at the river.
Tomorrow is officially the start of winter. We’re all cosied up here in the flat, Jackson’s on his bed in the cottage being baby sat by Hanna, all is well with the World.
For tonight anyway.

2 thoughts on “Hickory Dickory Dock…..”

  1. Yes, officially the start of winter. Today hasn’t gone at all the way I planned! And it’s only just gone noon. All emergecy and nurse this morning, blood running from a cut on my mothers arm, poor dear. She was very agitated. So my usual round of chapel, making Sunday lunch and catching up with friends has gone the way of the maastricht treaty. In the bin. Reading your blog has given me a smile, now that all the blood has stopped, the nurse has gone, the chicken is eventually in the oven and the chestnuts and cooked. Best laid plans, and all that.
    So thanks for the smile.

  2. Listen to the radio show for the first time today and really enjoyed it, especially the part where you were telling us about meeting J T. It was just like having a coffee with a friend and swapping gossip.
    Well done Jeni.

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