I don't know

Categories: uncategorized

Date: 12 December 2005 21:54:42

I hide myself away in a convent for a few days P and Q - emerge, and find someone's tagged me in my absence. 'Ahem,' (no, not you, smudgie!); how was I meant to respond? By Divine intervention?!;) I've been living in dread of this happening, you know. It all sounds so terribly complicated. I've been worrying that it might involve the sort of cyber-equivalent of rolling up your trouser leg and doing funny handshakes. Some facts about me? Horrors! From the world's Queen of procrastination and self-doubt. As the poor sister who's been suffering my ramblings these last few days would certify. Maybe I should ask her to supply the necessary facts.

O.k. then. Here goes:

1) When I was tiny, our family lived next door to the cousin of one of the chappies involved in the Profumo affair.

2) I received my first proposal of marriage at age 5, under an oaktree in the school gardens after John Napper asked me to remove my specs (and lazy eye patch). It's not on record whether I accepted or not. Sadly his family moved from the area soon afterwards. I was to wait many years for another one. We're NOT counting quite another proposal at age 16 from a fellow Christian teen and butter wouldn't melt ex-chorister. I mean - what sort of a girl did he think I was?! I didn't realise that cosy chats about the cricket scores incurred obligations. I refused him, you'll be glad to know.

3) I lived in the 'Crossroads of Europe' for most of the 90's. By the time we returned to the UK, Ms Miff's French was fluent, and has remained so. Mine sadly was not. Although I found the 'if in doubt make it up,' method worked pretty well. Not to mention the 'if you can't say much, at least say it with a pretty accent,' theory. I also have an Inst of Linguist's prelim certificate gained at night class shortly after I married Mr Miff. It's amazing what love will do! Needless to say I'm now unable to recall any of it.

4) Being where it was, the church I joined at the 'Crossroads,' saw its fair share of VIP visitors - generally of the funny hat, purple dress wearing variety. I once poured tea for the Bishop of Durham. Yes, THAT Bishop of Durham. I do wish I'd paid attention to what we were talking about. But to this day all I can remember was him remarking that he was looking forward to retirement so that he could spent time in his garden. Another boast was spotting Tony Banks at an ambassadorial reception. (Yes, we received regular invitations). :) Ooh, and I nearly forgot to mention waiting for hours with two impatient Mifflets to watch the French forces roll through the streets of the city for the 50th Anniversary of the end of World War II. And we spotted President Mitterand in the procession. Where are we now?....

5) Deep breath. I was once a bellringer. And spent considerable amounts of my spare time hurtling round the South of England getting tangled in ropes in cold, damp musty country churches, hanging around in graveyards and sitting around in pubs. Have you noticed there's nearly always a pub next to a church?

Noticed a lot of 'I was onces.' Well, you don't want to know about me NOW, do you?

Now, let me think. Could I tag Threefold of diary of a newbody fame, dith,Cajenne, birdie, and Tigglet? Oh, are you meant to put in LINKS?! Oh dear. Back later.