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By Michael Casey
We are having a lazy Sunday here in Birmingham, our
house hunting is still fruitless and we’ve had another valuation on our own
home. Why take 5 mins when 30 will suffice, is the rule for estate agents,
though personally I give them short shrift, but it’s a Pantomime we all endure
when we look for a new house.
So today we are relaxing and I’m having a lazy look
at the newspapers. One thing that was of interest was an Irish guy who had an
email correspondence with David Bowie, not knowing for ages that it was the man
himself. Then one January it was all over, that was a year ago now. I read that
Ronald Reagan had a penfriend who used a code on the outside of the envelope so
that the letters could get to him quickly. I believe this went on for a number
of years, but you can ask Google or the Reagan Library to confirm this.
So this got me thinking, what if I had the Queen as
a pen friend, would we exchange views on paint. Everywhere the Queen goes there
is always the smell of paint, as everybody tidies up before she comes. I just
wish she’d visit my girls’ bedroom, then it might be tidy.
Or perhaps visit our
house, all of it, then somebody might decorate it before she arrives, which
will help us sell it. Not unless the Queen, or Marg as she prefers to be
called, not unless Marg, Majesty,
decides she wants to stay at our 3 bed house while the Palace is
decorated. Which could be 10 years.
Would the Queen confide in me, spill the juice on
Theresa May, do they slag each other’s fashion. Then laugh like drains before
having a pint of Guinness, with their schedule they would need it. Or do they
swop tips via email? I’m sure Mrs May wouldn’t tell me a thing but if I posted
some pork scratchings to the Queen, maybe I could bribe her. Marg loves pork
scratchings, she shares them reluctantly with the corgis, and Al the Alsatian
who follows her around with Dennis the dog handler.
What else could she tell me about being called Marg,
she did insist on being called Marg you know, she told me in one of our emails
that Ken Dodd insisted and she allowed it, just before she reached for her
sword. Ken started to run away, falling over his tickling stick in the process,
he had flashbacks about being in court for tax evasion as the Queen raised her
sword. But she only knighted him, arise Sir Ken Dodd. I thought you were going
to run me through said the new Sir Ken. I’m the Queen or Marg to my friends, I
don’t run anybody through, I leave that to the granddaughters, mind you in that
fat ginger singer’s case, I could be tempted. Then she laughed like a drain.
I did exchange tips about schools and so forth, all
the teachers in my family and the high levels my family achieved. But then she
changed the subject, so I told her I knew all the words to “ I’m walking
backwards for Christmas across the Irish Sea” but I forgot some, turns out she
is a Spike Milligan fan, that Prince Charles of hers led her astray or is it
ashtray. So me and Marg have a nice little penfriend thing going via email.
Of course we have special email names, mine is anon678904423423@lamberthwalk1945.org.com
and Marg’s is 1945to1812Overture@lamberthwalk1945.org.com
so that’s about it for tonight really. I have to run to the Polish shop for
bread now, one day I’ll learn Polish, but a smile always works, Marg told me
that, just keep on smiling.
Oh I forgot what does the Queen, or rather my friend
Marg keep in her handbag? She has a Kindle with all my books on. https://www.amazon.co.uk/MichaelCasey/e/B00571G0YC and a packet of pork scratchings of course,
food for the mind and for the dogs, though I’m not sure which she thinks is
which.
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