Continue the story.....

[poppy]

like a 'wee puppy friend'. As much as I love dogs, we had the cats to consider and I didn't want them bothered by an over-excited bouncing puppy.
'Your hair looks lovely, Rosie. What colour do you call that?'
'Sea Mermaid. Johnny, what's that noise?'
'What noise?' I asked innocently.
'That thumping noise, it sounds like it's coming from the office.'
'Oh, it's probably just Cylde doing a bit of spring cleaning. You know how enthusiastic he is.'
'I must catch up with him and see what he thinks of my hairdo.'
'No, Rosie, let's have a cup of tea and a catch up first. I've got so much to tell you.'
But too late, she was making a beeline for the office.
'Why, the doors locked!'  she exclaimed.
'Golly gosh, how did that happen?'
'Did you lock him in??!!'
She unlocked the door and out burst a very purple-faced,  irate and hyperventilating Daddy.
'YOU, YOU ...

[itsmeagain]

two timing, you suspicion arousing, late evening arousing, simplified, dumbed down, scrubbed up, puppy like, dog gone, downturn mouthed, miserable provider of domestic help to .to..to..to...'

Suddenly the apoplectic old boy fell to the floor, with

'Johnny old boy..please..get me my fave record , Nina Simone, Wild is the Wind..old..boy..me and her mother..we..have a ..large fortune..and..she.. well we'll give it out to you if you gimme my music.."

'Daddy oh daddy well get you to hospital right away" , we shouted in tandem, the ambulance 🚑  

Edited November 24, 2024 by itsmeagain

[poppy]

... we'll call the ambulance straight away. Johnny, quick, ring for an ambulance!'
'What about the music?' I asked, stalling for time.
'RING FOR AN AMBULANCE, NOW!' shouted Rosie.
I rang 111, the number for less urgent cases. I could always pretend I got them mixed up. With a bit of luck the old coot would croak before they arrived. And it would give me time to get something concrete in writing about leaving us all his brass.
He must be in a pretty bad way, talking about Rosie's mother like that, she'd been dead for years.

To add a bit of insult to injury, I cranked up Wild as the Wind by Bon Jovi.  I couldn't wait to see his face.
But when I strolled back in, there he was ...
 

Edited November 25, 2024 by poppy

[itsmeagain]

sipping sherry like a good un. 

' Well darn it, there's mah ole buddy Johnny Disgraceful, and isn't it swell you've awl come out to Wiscaansin today to see us..(waits for applause, which rings out from a crackling LP)..yeah Wiscaansin..this next waan is called. WHO SAYS You can't go home...'

And at that, the old twerp stood up, gyrating to Bon Jovi like a hula dancer from Hawaii, the type I liked to see gyrating on TV when I was 15.....enough of that...he said" Old bean, this amazingly spiffing, have you

Edited November 25, 2024 by itsmeagain

[poppy]

got Thunderstuck by AD/BC? I loved doing the polka to that when I was in Wisconsin. It's their national dance, don't you know.'
'Thunderstruck is?? I asked incredulously. 'He's really lost the plot now, Rosie,' I said in an aside.
'I know, he's only ever listened to high-brow opera and classical music, like Boccherini and Donizetti.'
'Never heard of them.  Sounds like foreign muck to me.'
'Yes, I'm more of an ABBA and Barry Manilow fan myself.'
I thought it best not to comment on that.
A faint siren could be heard approaching.
Daddy looked excited, 'That'll be ...

[itsmeagain]

the stew being delivered.  I ordered chicken a la bonhomie, a French Alsatian dish, beef de la Carbonne with steamed turnup, plus....for you 2..Romance whisky..the very hub of romance, it is a strong whisky..'

' Hi we're the ambulance 🚑 team, emergency job. A Mr Periwinkle phoned from this address said an old man is struggling. '

' I am ..Major General Oliver Carpet burns Flowers, and I called. What we have here is a sign of our terrible times..2 overrated, overfed, wishy washy cat adoring..communists, letting their old father rot in penury due to....

[poppy]

complete neglect and abuse. I could tell you stories that would make your toenails stand on end and your hair curdle!' He sighed pathetically, 'Impia iuventus est hodie.'
Medic Felix Nightshade, 42, from Barking, gave him a long, impassive look. 'Could I just have a quiet word? Are you his son, sir?'
'Good lord, no!' I shuddered. 'Heaven forbid! Rosie here's his daughter, patience of a saint, this girl.'
He took Rosie aside and chatted for some time, the upshot  was ...

[itsmeagain]

that the best thing for her father was rest and recuperative measures, how's his social life? Any hobbies? ' None aside from bothering us..and philandering", beamed Rosie, 'I guess we can set him some dating club meets , that ought to be fun...it's his birthday in 8 days and how swell it would...

[poppy]

be if he had a lady friend to share it with.'
'It'd get the old fart out of our hair, anyway!' Rosie gave me a reproving look. 'Well, I'm just thinking of you, my love, and Daddy, of course. What about one of those speed dating thingies? He could meet a whole lot of eligible old dames ... hopefully loaded.'
So we booked him in. He dressed in what he considered the pinnacle of fashion, though which era had climbed to such appalling heights was anyone's guess. He wore a loud plaid suit in a bilious shade of mustard, an orange bowtie and topped it all off with a bowler, that had seen better days. 
However, feeling he looked snappily dressed and exuding confidence he swaggered off, twirling his cane.
The first lady he met ...

[itsmeagain]

Ilga Sturmbahn, 42, a hairdresser from Leipzig.

In UK on business, can you, she mused, perhaps do a video chat whilst I am in Hilton , Manchester. The major opted for caution, demanding pictures. So, one autumnal morn, he opened up the laptop and

[PYX]

He didn't know exactly what he was looking for, but he felt that this morning could be a turning point. A message from Ilga Sturmban, a hairdresser from Leipzig, appeared on the screen. 

[poppy]

Her message read ...
'Darling Reggie,
 I am chumping on the bat, in the making of our acquaintances. I feel deep connection to your esteemed self. You send 1200 euros to Ilga Sturmbahn, Sterling Bank of Nigeria 066-666-666 and I fly to your side, with great hasten.
Your ever loved 
Ilga'

Attached was a photo of a buxom, well upholstered blonde dressed in a traditional German dirndl.
'Just my kind of gal!' chortled the Major.
He immediately...

[itsmeagain]

did a quick check on the old bank balance, what what, 'by Jove, I still have quarter of a million..well..here goes.. '

Drrrrring....drrring...

'Allo?'

'Hehe he.. oh you little blighter..what are you wear...'

'Who the bladdy ells vis? You bladdy perv, am calling veowd Bill', chimed a male Cockney voice. It hadn't exactly 

[poppy]

gone the way the Major was hoping. 
'I wish to speak to my Ilga, my inamorata.  This is the number that was disclosed to me!'
'Watchu want with me 'ilda, you sicko? Callin' 'er yer tomata! I gotcha number! Bladdy geezers like you want their knackers ...'
The Major hung up, rather shaken. Although not comprehending much of what the man was saying, his tone made it quite clear that ...

[itsmeagain]

he was less than enamoured with the svelte, middle class twit demeanour, perfected, like that of Rishi, because that's exactly  what the Flowers guy is..a useless middle class twerp.

Maybe it required a more urban approach..a lorry driver, no nonsense, gruff yet ..Drinnnnngggg

' Yes..?'

'Ohhhh yah..zis ist Ilga..oh ma sweet cheeks, bloom of my effervescent, kind life. '

'That's about time..now see ere, we industrial industrious northern types, we only like women oo do as dare told..'

'Oiohh. Getting saucy , ya..right up my strasse, hehe hehe...

[poppy]

'What do you do with ze very naughty girls, yah?' asked a giggling Ilga.
'Hehehe, vell first I likes to ...ahh hum, I mean naughty gals get thrown over me knee and  ...'
And there we'll draw a veil over Major Flowers and Ilga, on privacy (and censorship) grounds, and return to Johnny and Rosie's Cat Cafe, where we find them both relaxing with a large mug of tea, a plateful of jammy dodgers and a purring cat on each of their knees.
'Isn't this so nice and peaceful, Johnny? Why don't we ...

Edited December 1, 2024 by poppy

[itsmeagain]

keep all the doors shut, feed the kitties, retire to bed and..well you know..we could do things..together things..you know".

The one upshot of which ( pardon the pun) was that a few weeks later, Rosie began with ' No period Johnny..what date did we retire early?'

Realising the writing was legibly on the wall, I said '2031 but it ain't arrived yet..why?'

'Oh Johnny..we could be having a 👶 baby', she said, her joy not tempered ....

[poppy]

by the fact she'd been throwing up several times a day. Our Rosie was made of stern stuff ... after all she'd put up with her father all her life, enough to nauseate the most robust digestive system, in my opinion.
'Darling, you will have to take it easy now. Leave everything to me. Would you like a nice cup of tea? And a bickie? That's supposed to be good for a dicky tummy. Here's a pillow for your back. Put your feet up, sweetheart. I'll bring you your book. Which one are you reading? Ooooh I AM excited! I'm going to be a daddy!'
'Oh Johnny, you are a sweetie, but stop fussing,' Rosie laughed, 'I'm ...
 

[itsmeagain]

fine and frankly, would be appalled if a baby was to begin kicking my insides. It's not your fault but Rishi and Keir have mashed up the nation.. '

A cacophony of musical pandemonium ensued, with Musical Youth walking into the cattery, guitars etc and a rendition of their ' Mash up de Nation'was delivered, having customers gyrating like a whirling dervish, and me laughing my head off.

'Rosalyn are you crazy..?"

"No I am' , came a simpering, mouse like voice, ' I feel it needed

[poppy]

strong and upbeat music to get my message across.'
If he hoped to be a representative of political dissent, he wasn't going  to be very successful. His demeanor was off putting, his voice affected and he walked with the look of a pouter pigeon. Since I agreed with the sentiment, it was rather disappointing. And the loud music was upsetting our moggies.
'Who invited HIM in?' I asked.
'I did,' said Clyde, 'I thought ...

[itsmeagain]

it behove me to influence modern subculture sociology, in a grimly counter capitalist counterculture. Only a complete stiff can deny that Rosie loves what I...

[poppy]

believe in, my revolutionary ideology!'
I looked at Rosie aghast, 'Is this true, Rosie??'
She had the grace to look a little embarrassed and squirmed in her chair.
'Well not entirely, Clyde. I mean I love your work ethic, you do such a wonderful job. And your rapport with our darling kitty cats is absolutely amazing. But your political views are ... how shall I put this ... rather bizarre, and to be quite honest, totally incomprehensible to me.'
'Well, that's it!' he stormed, 'I can see my time here has been totally wasted!' and with that he ...
 

[itsmeagain]

flounced theatrically, languorouslly, and with great finesse de large, ' well mon sweet cherie, Rosalyn, I shall forthwith treasure thy sweet memory...it's like sweet nothings whispered in my joyous ears..if ever you're 

[poppy]

feeling dispirited or neglected, you need only to call my name and I'll be at your side, your devoted servant, ready to whisk you away from this vile beast and transport you to the heights of ... '
'That'll be quite enough from you, you obnoxious pillock! OUT!!' and I grabbed him by his scrawny ear and shot him out the back door.
'Darling, was that absolutely necessary, after all ...
 

[itsmeagain]

Clyde is..better than you..in certain..departments..'

'Are you on..what I saw on tv..a truth drug..?', I asked, quaking with dread,