In a similar role to the United Nations Peace envoy I was yesterday vanned in to the sleepy Buckinghamshire hamlet of Gawcott. Trouble had been brewing for a while regarding an estimated bill and Mrs A and her dog named Jim were angrier than Wild Willy Barrett chewing a wasp. If I’m being really truthful I think that Jim, a rather overweight Staffordshire bull terrier was actually quite chilled about it all and apart from dragging around a large flat bone similar to that of a pelvis from an old or wounded postman his main aim in life was only to jump up and attempt to head butt / lick any intruders. It was quite difficult to concentrate however on Mrs A version of events with the constant threat Of Jims flying head butts to my nether regions, so I generally moved in a sideways crab like direction whilst Mrs A told me how she had lived through two world wars and didn’t really think it was fair to have to climb a 10 foot rickety old ladder at the age of 80 to read the meter. I said nothing but remember a time when they made pensioners tougher than that! It was during a rather long and drawn out story about happier times and homemade wine that Jim’s steely nose caught my attention and Steven and the Twins full on, and I was over. Mrs A in full flow and oblivious to the situation pointed towards the orchard and spoke of wonderful wartime hedgerows that had filled her demijohns in the past. With a slight shrill in my voice I promised to try to resolve the metering problem, then made my excuses and crawled off.
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