Muffins, Museums and Marijuana
To: Marjorie Bathsheba Catheter Jodrell-Bentley
Subject: Towards Accommodation
I am, however, glad you were able to pay your way with such innovation. I too have often resorted to baking to alleviate a crisis and in fact was once offered a princely sum by a gentleman who wished to know the secret of my special muffin.
Naturally I didn’t give him an inch, but I can’t deny I was tempted.
I can only hope that for the duration of your stay you were accommodated in reasonable quarters. Sadly our hotels can only be described as insalubrious. Indeed, one of the young men with whom we were billeted confided that most of the venues had achieved a rating of only two pink triangles.
On the plus side, though, the general state of the environs did mean that the alcohol fumes from Ms. Havelock didn’t create any noticeable degradation in the wallpaper. (There have been times in the past where I’ve wished she could achieve a more consistent bleaching effect. Or at least sleep with her mouth closed to avoid any tell-tale patching.)
Still I must say that our companions all seemed a very friendly bunch of chaps. The youth of today seem to have a terrible reputation for being selfish, but they were in and out of each others’ rooms at all hours and always offering each other a helping hand. It was most heartening.
They also knew a great variety of songs and on the lengthier journeys this was a more than welcome diversion – until of course Miss Twigham started to improvise hand movements.
Indeed it was during her somewhat regrettable performance of “One Finger One Thumb, Keep Moving” that one of them recognised her from the event in Hackney.
It was very odd: I could have sworn he didn’t have a stutter the day before.
Or indeed the twitch, now I come to think about it.