helenandjo.com

News of Helen and my Miss Marple-like skills and crime-fighting prowess has clearly spread as today I was called in by Sparrow police to assist in an investigation into an “attempted kidnapping” in our road. Remember the fracas in our street no long ago during which Helen leapt into action and called the new non-emergency 101 police number? Well today, a policewoman called me to ask for a witness statement. Could I identify any of the young men involved? “No,” I said. Did I see anyone being dragged into a car? “No,” I said. Would I be willing to testify in court? “Yes,” I said. “Although, my evidence would not stand up in court as my memory of events is quite vague and I didn’t really see what happened.” Case solved!

I had a terrible dream last night, which featured Trousers-Falling-Down-Man. I saw him a couple of days ago on my way to the shops. He was just stood by the side of the road, glaring at the world and his glaring face must have imprinted itself on my subconscious because there he was in my dream! For some reason I was acting as some kind of assistant or servant to TFDM because in my dream I had to fetch him some foam/squeezy cheese – the kind of cheese you get in a can. However, he was very insistent that I got the right brand of cheese foam. He told me the one he wanted but if the shop didn’t stock that one then I could get this other one as an alternative but on no account was I to get yet another brand of cheese foam. He was adamant about that. I hadn’t realised there were so many different types. I think I did manage to get the right one and then I tried to buy some gherkins from a restaurant but got thrown out as they weren’t for sale. They must have been for me as gherkins are one of my favourite foods. I don’t know what happened after that but I remember feeling anxious when I woke. I feel sure this dream is crammed with meaning.

Here are some beautiful swans and baby swans that Helenandi met yesterday in Brichmond Park. Shortly after this photo was taken the big swan with the thick neck started shouting at Helen and telling her to hiss off. “Look out, Helen!” I said. “The swan is going to break your arm!” It was a lovely Spring scene.

For several years I have been hassling people to plant trees in my street and the 2 neighbouring streets which make up the Sparrow Civic Residents Association. I’ve had nearly 40 planted which is all very public spirited of me.

BUT my real plan has all been leading up to this! A tree outside the h&j b&b! A tree of our very own. Jo has already named the tree Tree. We shall care for it and make it the best tree in the street!

I must be on some sort of party train. A woman got on with a quiche and I’m sat opposite someone with a tiramisu covered in cling film and possible a casserole in tin foil. I’ve not brought anything. How embarrassing.

Ha! To all those doubting Thomases and Helens who say they have seen 0 birds on our new birdfeeder, eat this! This is a paparazzi long lens shot of TWO goldfinches on the bird feeder, having a right old feast.

I have noticed something about birdspotting. It seems to be a law of nature that one’s interest in birds in the garden and their activities is inversely proportional to one’s age (I think that’s right). Basically, when you are young and your mum tells you about a blue tit, you are bored, but strangely, when you get older, you like blue tits and spend ages re-filling bird feeders and fussing about your bird friends. I wonder why this is.

My second favourite local newsletter has just arrived in my Schmevon flat. It’s called Around Smashburton and is 94 pages long in colour and with ads from every single business in the town. Plus it has features like the ‘Grumpy Old Woman’ column where someone complains about our little So-op supermarket being too small and crowded and information about where to get your free Smashburton Jubilee mug if you’re under 5.

My favourite column is always ‘Notes from the police station’ where they list all the crimes. This time there have been two crimes, both cannabis possession. They always end with the jolly ‘Keep em’ peeled’ which is both amusing and strangely punctuated.

I’m also fascinated to learn from Around Smashburton that ‘your dogs and cats come from a star system called Sirius’ which I didn’t know until now. That useful info comes to us thanks to a healer who seems to have landed herself a new column opposite an advert for a paint mixing service.

Just when you think you have done everything on your megalist, fate comes along and bites you on the bottom. Helenandi had been doing so well with the allotment recently that something was bound to go wrong and it has. Our mini greenhouse and all the carefully planted seedlings therein, which we have nurtured like our own children, toppled to the ground on Sunday resulting in chaos, catastrophe and calamity of epic proportions. Pumpkins co-mingled with cucumbers entangled with sunflowers mixed with beetroot entwined with spring onions integrated with artichokes – basically one big mess like the universe before God starting tinkering with it. Helen was first on the scene and I later had to treat her for post-traumatic stress disorder by feeding her sausages and baked beans.

It feels like the strawberry that broke the camel’s back on top of our many other terrible problems including the Pizza Factory, the fact Sparrow Council has rejected my request for a single person council tax discount, the state of Pricesnipper’s flowerbeds, Lemming’s ominous silence on our offer to buy his flat, my temporal mandibular joint disorder, Stupid Schmevon, The Snorer, the dead rat and much, much more.

To cap it all someone next door is banging a drum and ringing a bell. Stop it!

Here I am doing my bit for Big Society by picking up a dead rat so that no one else treads in it like I did last night. I was going to pick it up with my bare hands and just sling it in the bin but Helen shouted at me and said I had to use gloves and put the rat in a bag. It has been a rodent-filled day all round as there was a “very big mouse” in the compost heap on the allotment, according to Helen. “Was it a rat?” I asked. Helen wasn’t sure but confirmed it was “very big” with “very big eyes” but also “really cute with cutey cute ears and a really long tail”. Our attempts to rat-proof the compost bin appear to have FAILED.

And I don’t use that acronym lightly. So I’ve just been to residents’ association, which is a hotbed of local gossip and always an eye-opener. But tonight’s meeting was a cracker. One of my neighbours revealed how her 95-year-old aunt tried to commit suicide by vibrator. This is true. The old lady’s plan was to die in ecstasy so she locked herself in her room with a 1950s vibrator. She was heard moaning by relatives who were not sure what to do. Eventually they broke the door down and ‘removed’ the sex toy. The old woman is still alive nine years after this incident. This is the kind of gossip GOLD that you get at residents’ association so anyone who thinks I am mad to get involved can shut up!

And the fun did not stop there. On my way to residents I was momentarily startled by a dead rat on the pavement not far from our house. On my way home from residents in the dark I forgot about the rat but remembered when I trod on it and felt it go SQUISH under my shoe. Erk!