Curry Up its bed time.

She’s gone.
The lodger has gone.
The girl who locked herself in my spare room has finally gone.
The funny little thing that made my life so difficult has taken her strange smell with her and gone.
Some people rub you up the wrong way she was one of them, I was in a perpetual state of cat-fur-stroked-the-wrong-way-itis. I tried to be a forgiving, decent human being but I turned into a sneidy, hissing landlady who couldn’t give her one inch, frightened that she may take a mile, now thank heavens she has gone.
She has left the room empty but not clean.
My lovely Sarah,scrubbed, hoovered, dusted, mopped, cleaned, and changed the bed clothes, it’s ready to be slept in again. I cleansed the room with a candle and some space clearing spray. I sprayed and sprayed, lit the candle, opened the windows, and the curtains – which she didn’t open for four months – and opened the door.
I have my flat back. It has been an absolute nightmare. I’m pretty sure she’ll never read this but if she does, I take total responsibility for the last few months, it was like windscreen wipers on a dry window. That squeak that gets your teeth grinding….

It’s 23.48 I have just walked in from the BRITISH CURRY AWARDS. Two thousand people in Battersea Park. Shakeel made me a wonderful outfit, trousers, tunic top and a floaty scarf. All pink and silver sequins, I thought I was grand until the other women turned up. My God I have never seen so many sparkly saris in one room at the same time.
It was fabulous.
The men in dinner jackets and bow ties, all swarthy and handsome., Our table – LBC – had me and eight others. We ate so much, whilst Chris Tarrant and Sir Trevor MacDonald hosted the evening. A lot of money was taken for charity and there was a great deal of good will.
David Cameron was there making a speech about integrated Britain, even I had to admit he was right when he said that the Asian community had so integrated themselves that curry was now as British as the bulldog and that Nick Griffin can bog off. I don’t like Cameron though, he doesn’t represent me, the recipients of the awards, however, were chuffed.
I gave out the award to best Scottish curry house CINNAMON in ABERDEEN. The beautiful Asian men came up onto the stage wearing kilts. We sashayed off to the music from ‘Strictly Come Dancing.’
We were all given a goody bag in which there were chocolates, pens, a t-shirt, two little towels to put in the microwave so that you can wipe your hands in your own home and a bottle of perfume. I put some on my right hand. It is very, very sweet and pungent, it keeps wafting up my nose so I am going to have to wash it off, and wash off the great big chocolate stain on my new pink tunic. I leant over the chocolate pudding to get Jim a bottle of beer as a present and my belly landed into the moussy mess.
Shakeel says the stains will make me much more attractive to the men of the Punjab, apparently they like there women in flowery polyester with tumeric stains. I wonder whether it’ll appeal to the old git. Probably not he likes his women wearing a flat cap with legs like a whippet.