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I have to admit here, I was a bit reticent about writing this one.However,with the agreement of my counsellor- friend , I decided I may as well go for it.

She, my counsellor- friend , has chosen for personal reasons to be referred to as Marialle; it’s a nice name, but sadly not her own. She feels for a number of reasons it would be best not to give her ‘real’ name.

I don’t blame her. She has a rather unusual name, I mean, hear it once and never forget it.

When I say my counsellor- friend, she’s not actually that kind of counsellor, you know what I mean, she’s a Careers Guidance counsellor, in a very nice school too, but let’s face it what with the recession and levy’s and all that I’m lucky to have her. I mean free counselling is not something to be sneezed at, is it? .I’d have to be mad not to avail of her skills.

By free, I mean no cash exchanges hands, but I do pay a price, as the man said ,‘’No free lunches’’. The poor girl is shattered at the moment, well actually, she’s always shattered, but particularly so these days.

She went back to work last week after her Summer holidays ‘’,not quite 3 months’’, as she said yesterday, what with having to go back in August.’’So, if you don’t mind I’ll ring you back after I have my bath and put my pyjamas on’

’

Marialle wears Louis Vuitton pyjamas, honestly- I personally can vouch for this -having dropped by one sunny afternoon 2pm-ish and there she was in all her glory waiting for her lunch to be delivered by the local delicatessen’s ‘’lovely young man’’ as she said. Anyway, she proudly modelled her LV pyjamas around her conservatory and remarked on ‘’the lovely seasonal shade of lavender.’’

I admired her and her LV PJs of course, but I was a bit distracted by Marielle’s little pooch ‘Phoenix’ who was very smitten by my left leg, despite the fact that it was not designer clad.

Nonetheless, there are some things even the most adoring pooch lovers should try and restrain and one of them is an amorous pooch, especially when the recipient of the said pooch’s amour is none too flattered.

By the way,if you are wondering why this miniature of miniatures is called ‘Phoenix’, don’t be deluded into thinking he bears any resemblance to the mythical creature ‘The Phoenix’,no, Marialle actually called him after Joaquim Phoenix ,the actor, whom she fell head over heels in love with when she saw him play the role of ’ Johnny Cash ‘.

.She was seriously smitten by JP and blatantly resented the fact that her other half couldn’t play guitar or sing.

Anyway, her other half did buy her ‘her own Phoenix ‘ as a gift- for what Marialle refers to as her roundy birthday- so let’s assume there’s a zero in there somewhere.

Anyway, where was I? ok , back to yesterday ,you know, where Marielle wanted to ring me after her bath. Of course , I didn’t mind, but it was 3pm, I believe the word she used was ‘’shattered’’, by way of a change.

Marialle is currently doing her house up. Again ,this isn’t the whole truth, she is not doing her house up, she has a man in ,who is, in her own words ‘’an absolute Godsend’’.He comes at 8am and Marialle likes him to be gone at 4pm, she doesn’t feel comfortable going around the house in her pyjamas if he’s there, even if they are LV PJs. Maybe she feels a bit s.........d

-I can’t bring myself to say that word again, but she probably feels very tired after work or something.

Anyway, Marialle finds it very difficult to get full value out of ‘’Dolly’’ the cleaning lady if anyone else is in the house when Dolly is there. Dolly, which by the way is not her real name either, comes 2 evenings a week and ‘’does’’ what needs to be done. Marialle doesn’t like to cook on those 2 evenings so she can get full pleasure out of seeing the house totally clean. She doesn’t like to eat out either so she can supervise Dolly’s work.

Supervision by radar really ,usually done from the sofa eating the take-away which her long suffering other half, let’s call him Bart,ok that’s not his real name either, brings home dutifully.

Now that the house is looking so well, Marialle feels she should do something with her front garden, with the added bonus that it would help her to keep fit. I, being a woman of the soil, was the first person she decided to ring for some sound advice on the matter. So for a full half hour yesterday, after Marialle’s bath of course, I advised.

I left no stone unturned, little bit of trimming here ,a little bit of weeding there, a cherry blossom, grass cut, etc., give it 2 weeks and she wouldn’t recognise it.

By the way, this garden is approximately the size of Marialle’s en-suite bathroom plus the en-suite bathroom of the bedroom beside hers, if you follow. So it’s the size of 2 en-suite bathrooms.

What did the brave Marialle say after my most generous advice, ‘’And where do you think I’d get a man to do all this?’’

I don’t know Marialle, I just don’t know.



Disclaimer:

Any resemblance to anyone you may know is probably correct.