Christmas time!

Ann Potts, who for those of you who don't know, was the ghost living in my apartment, receiving a rather alarming amount of post, has returned. She moved out for three or so months, but has found the outside world cold, and unresponsive. She has begun to request Christmas party brochures, to cheer herself up.

My favourite is one from The Village, 'Amazingly, it's that time again!' Is it? Isn't it just April? A time for watching rain hit windows?  'If you book a party of ten or more we will treat you to a complimentary bedroom.' Great, if you can get ten of your friends to commit to a Christmas event, in April, then you can all sleep in one, free room. Anyone available? Have plans yet? Sounds perfectly realistic.

'So don't waste any time'. Guys, we've only got eight months left! Shit! That's hardly time to eat a baguette, let alone schedule a party. I think we might just have to stay in this year.

How is one of the nights sold out? That's a lie. That has to be a lie. Will they stop at nothing to entice cash, from us poor, recession ridden smucks? Who are these people who've managed to convince their friends to commit years in advance? I can't get my friends to commit to a conversation.

In other news, Ginger Beard is a joke with legs.

Also, I keep forgetting that the car isn't a safe place to say anything you want, when the windows are down. I just can't help but express my opinion on how annoying that pedestrian is, as they have a leisurely stroll across the road. Ginger Beard keeps screaming (like a girl) "They can hear you!", as I shout, "What a dick, what the fuck are you doing? Yeah, you take your time. Don't worry about it. I don't have anywhere to be. You complete fuckjob." It's not road rage. It's constructive criticism.

Potts flies the nest

I appreciate that you can't read the attachment. But I did try, really hard. So I've decided to include this illegible post, to demonstrate how modern I am with my blogging. Much like the video you couldn't see, this letter you can't read, shows how god damn tech savvy I'm becoming.

The point is, my jealous fans (aka Dad and Ginger Beard) that a great tragedy has stuck, one from which we may never recover. My favourite tenant, and arguably the most entertaining, has decided to leave us. After residing here for six months, Ann Potts, without a word of goodbye, has applied for return of her deposit, and given her notice.

Yesterday, I was inconsolable. Today, I am sitting in my pajamas surving only on Fanta Fruit Twist and Quavers. Ginger Beard has taken down our 'Potts Noticeboard', where we had been loyally collecting her mother's letters, gym membership statements, and hsbc overdraft information. The oil painting we did of her (split into six estimations of her face), has been turned to the wall. And now, when we prank call her mobile, we leave listless messages, instead of the standard 30 minute cheery update, and song of the week, (Ginger Beard is simply fantastic at harmonizing).

It's hard to see how things can get better. So I thought I'd make a list of all of the terrible things Ann did during her time with us, the downright despicable acts.

• Not letting us go to the gym. Sometimes it would be cold, and raining, and I would say, 'Please Ann, please let us go to the gym. I really want to go!" And she would block the door.
• Put little bits of meat into Ginger Beard's potato filling. Really tiny bits of ham. So that once he was chewing on a potato, and had to open his mouth with all this ham and potato mushing out down his chin, crying, "Isss tha meesh int is?" Which meant, "Is there meat in this?" And wasn't very funny at all.
• Eating all the blueberry wheats cereal except one lone blueberry wheat.
• Pulling up the lounge blinds when Ginger Beard is changing in the lounge.
• Using all the loo roll.
• Burning the new table with a coffee cup.
• Force feeding us chocolate, and jelly beans, and cheese pizza.

But then I remember all the selfless things Ann did do for us.

• Never making any noise.
• Not eating any food.
• Never trying to seduce us.
• Not using the house phone/Internet/electricity/gas
• Staying invisible.

Go forth into the world Ann, and thank you for touching our lives.

Injured? Have you been left to cope with the costs?

So we're comfortably sitting in January, and look at me with the whole resolution thing! I'm not a complete failure; I can still achieve things beyond basic dental hygiene, and tying my shoe laces. And thank God I didn't attempt more than one, because I'm already going steady with Terry's chocolate orange and some of his friends. Oh, and the gym? I walk past it all the time. It seems to be doing just fine without me.

I can be fat and write. It's the same as having a face for radio.

I've got some bad news about our good friend Ann Potts - she's only gone and had an accident at work! Maybe she had the wrong ladder? Luckily, she's a member of GBM Compensation. Unluckily, all the forms have come to me. They've enclosed a rather detailed letter about some poor chap called Daniel who fell through a skylight. I can only assume this same fate has befallen my beloved Ann. It's okay though, because Daniel's employer was imprisoned. That didn't seem fair to me, until I read that Daniel was dead. I guess that balances out. Ann, be you dead or crippled, I shall hold on to these forms for you, or your carer, worry not.

In other news, Ginger Beard decided enough was enough with all my shoes, and hid the majority of them in a bin bag. Imagine my dismay on Monday morning facing the rain and ice, with a choice of my high heels or my gripless boots. This was not a problem the cag in a bag could fix. I chose the boots. I fell over in Morrison's car park. The staff saw, and not one of them came to help, despite my numerous purchases, and general store loyalty. Ann would understand, probably feeling abandoned by her loved ones, no christmas cards this year, no road to compensation, just her crooked legs and her imprisoned boss. Hard times for us all.

The life and times of Miss Ann Potts - Episode one

I'd like to introduce you all to a very special person in my life, the delectable, the delightful, the damn right desirable, Miss Ann Potts. The very Ann Potts who receives more mail, more heartfelt family letters and get well cards than I, to my address. For over six months her friends and relatives have loyally kept me filled in on their busy lives, and thanks to them, I already have five Christmas cards. It's so nice to finally be loved.

I've decided to share the life of Ann Potts, instead of selfishly hoarding it. My personal favourite which arrived over the weekend is 'The Varley Family Xmas Newsletter 2010.' Including these precious highlights:

'Matthew has finally returned to Gressenhall!"
I think you'll all be as relieved as me to hear this. We thought he'd never go back.
"Nick has had the least changes, although, he did buy a sports car."
 I feel very sorry for Nick. 2010 has raped him of joy.
"Jo is benefiting from the reduced travelling demands."
Praise the lord.
"Barbara has read lots of books." She sounds almost as depressed as Nick.
"We have spent several days "out" just enjoying ourselves."
What, pray tel, can these inverted commas be suggesting? Strip Club? Gay Bar? Morrisons?
"Perhaps we will visit you next year?" I really hope they do. I'd get the crisps in.

Now, what kind of pen pal would I be, if I didn't write back?

"It's been a very exciting year for myself and Ginger Beard. We're sorry to hear that Nick and Barbara are suicidal this close to Christmas. Luckily, your other children sound like they lead much more exciting lives. In what is becoming a rather predictable habit, we've been inhaling oxygen, purchasing train tickets, and even wearing shoes! Ginger Beard has consumed an array of pasta dishes. On a rather personal note, I've been calculating my correct tax deduction for the year. Please come and visit soon, and/or send further enthralling letters.

Best Wishes,

WriterAtLunch