The Diary of a Nobody

Being the modern day record of Charles Pooter VI -
direct descendant of the 19th Century original

Thursday, April 30, 2009

Carrie nipped down to Annie James’ place in Beckenham to chat about what kind of dress she’d wear next Monday. I was having a word with Harry Spotch, one of the other managers at work, and he said “Yeah, I’ve been asked along, but I don’t think I’ll be going”. When someone like Harry’s had an invite (to be blunt, he’s not particularly classy), it rather tarnished the invitation for me. In the evening I went to pick up my dinner suit from Moss Bros, only to discover Carrie had ‘borrowed‘ my credit card out of my wallet, so I was unable to pay.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

I had a look at the Moss Bros website for a suitable DJ to hire. Rather expensive when you add extras such as a cummerbund and silk scarf. E-mailed Gowing to say we’d be out next Monday because we’d be busy at the Civic Hall reception. Mailed likewise to Cummings.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Carrie said “I’d like to send the invitation to mother, just to look at”. I said fine, as soon as I’d replied. Feeling rather proud about the whole thing, I told Barry Perkupp at work that we’d been invited to the Civic Hall. He said he knew – it was him who’d given my name to the people there. Somehow, I felt this devalued the invitation, but I thanked him anyway, and he told me how I should respond to it. It seemed a bit basic to me, but Barry knows best I’m sure.

Monday, April 27, 2009

I was absolutely amazed to receive an invitation for Carrie and me to attend a London Chamber of Commerce and Industry reception at the Civic Hall, which will be attended by Boris Johnson. I was incredibly excited. We had to read the invitation two or three times before it sank in, and I could hardly touch my breakfast. I said – and I felt it very strongly – “I tell you Carrie, my love, when I led you down the aisle on our wedding day it was one of the proudest moments of my life. But I feel just as proud now and maybe even more so, thinking that I’ll be able to take my gorgeous, beautiful wife to meet Boris Johnson at the Civic Hall”. I saw Carrie wiping away a small tear, and she said “Charlie dear, I’m the one who’s proud. Honestly. I’m very very proud of you. You say I’m beautiful, and as long as you think I’m beautiful, I’m happy. My dear sweet little Charlie: you’re not the most handsome of men, I know, but you’re a good man, and that’s what’s truly important to me”. I gave her a kiss and she said “I wonder if there’ll be any dancing? I haven’t danced for ages”.

I don’t quite know what came over me, but I grabbed her hand and we went a bit mad and started doing a wild kind of jive (we’d done a class once, a long time ago) round the living room. Then there was a knock at the door, and a man appeared asking if we had a window cleaner. I was pretty peeved. I spent the evening trying to draft a proper reply to the invitation (without success), and I told Carrie that if Gowing or Cummings called, she should tell them to go away. I’ll have a chat with Barry Perkupp – he’ll know what way I need to reply.

I grabbed her hand and we went a bit mad and started doing a wild kind of jive

Sunday, April 26, 2009

I woke up with a splitting headache and something which felt like a real stinker of a cold coming on. Carrie got some stupid bee in her bonnet about it (like she usually does over these things) and said it was probably a respiratory condition of some sort caused by constantly inhaling toxic paint fumes over the past three days. I told her that when it came to working out what was wrong with me, I knew a lot better than she did, thank you very much. I was feeling feverish (all hot and cold), so I decided to run myself a very hot Radox bath. Ran it so hot I could hardly bear it, but managed to lower myself in eventually. It was steaming, but felt really good, and I just lay there for a while.

I pulled my hand out of the water for a moment and – my god – I was more shocked than I’ve ever been in my life. My hand was covered in blood. I thought I’d severed an artery or something and was going to die (it was that bad), and suddenly (for some reason) imagined the whole situation being re-enacted on Holby City. I shouted for Carrie, but realised she was out. Finally I worked out it was the stencil paint, which must have dissolved in the boiling water. I got out of the bath, and found I was streaked all over with red, looking for all the world like a tribesman I’d seen on a Bruce Parry documentary about the Amazon. I decided not to say a word to Carrie, but got some turps from the shed and - with a lot of elbow grease - managed to get rid of all the paint.

I looked like a tribesman I’d seen on a Bruce Parry documentary

Saturday, April 25, 2009

This very young customer service operator Michael Pitt (new on the job) showed up late for work (again). I told him I was duty bound to report the incident to Barry Perkupp (our Manager). Surprisingly, Michael (“Mikey” to the others, apparently) apologised profusely. I was very pleased with this sudden turn round, so I told him I’d not take it any further with Barry or HR. I was walking through the office an hour or so later, and got hit in the face by an elastic band. I turned round quickly, but everyone seemed hard at it. I don’t throw money around, but I’d have given a tenner to anyone who could have told me whether it was deliberate or an accident. I went home early, bought some more stencils, and painted a few small designs on a couple of flower pots, the back of the TV remote, and an old lamp. Also did a nice one - a little garland of daisies - round the handle of Gowing’s umbrella (he’d left it behind the other day).

Friday, April 24, 2009

I painted some fish and seaweed motifs in the bath in a nice terracotta colour. I thought they looked great. Unfortunately, Carrie didn’t, and we had a few cross words. She said I ought to have asked her first, and she’d never heard of anyone painting stencils IN a bath. I replied “It‘s merely a matter of taste”.

We didn’t argue any further because someone shouted up the stairs “May I come in?” It was only Cummings, who said “The front door was on the latch, and I couldn’t seem to raise anyone with the bell”. He suggested trying out “My Word Coach” – his new Nintendo game. Just for the laugh I said “And I bet you’ll end up a real slow Coach in that department”. He said “Oh, ha ha ha” and sounded a bit shirty, I thought. He said he couldn’t hang around – he’d only popped in to drop off a copy of Top Gear which he’d finished with.

Another knock at the door: this time, it was Gowing. He said he was sorry for always coming over, and sometime soon we should get across to his place. I said “Something a bit weird’s just struck me”. “What’s the betting it’s really funny?” said Cummings. “It is actually” I said. “Even you will get it. It’s about the two of you. Wait for it. Doesn’t it seem odd that Gowing’s always coming, and Cummings is always going?” Carrie (who’d obviously forgotten all about the stencils in the bath) went into hysterics, and I doubled up in my chair til it literally cracked beneath me. Thinking about it, I’m sure it’s one of the best gags I’ve ever made.

But imagine my surprise: Cummings and Gowing said nothing at all and looked utterly stony faced. There was a bit of an uncomfortable silence. Cummings pulled out his mobile, looked at a message, put it away and said “You know what? I think I’ll be off. To tell you the truth, I don’t think your jokes are particularly funny”. Gowing said he liked a bit of banter, but this was plain silly, and it’s not like he hadn’t had people take the mick out of his name before. Cummings said if anyone else had said it, he’d have ignored them completely. It was all a bit of a downer: we could have had a good time, but didn’t. Then again, it was slightly fortunate. We didn’t have much in the fridge in the way of dips or anything.

Thursday, April 23, 2009

I got some more stencils (this time including some tribal swirls and fish and seaweed designs), and tested them out on various small items. They freshened up really well.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Since Brickwell told me his wife was working wonders with some special Homebase stencils, I reckoned I should try them out. I bought a couple of Celtic Cross and floral designs on my way home. Got my dinner down fairly smartish and then went to the garage to test them out on the back wall. I called out to Carrie who said “You’re always messing around with some new-fangled nonsense”, but then had to admit the designs looked pretty good. Went upstairs to our bedroom and painted a “dado rail” of flowers round the room. I felt it added some much-needed panache to the decor, but Carrie looked unimpressed and said she thought “it had looked a lot better before”.

I stencilled a “dado rail” in our bedroom

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Hardly slept a wink because I was fretting so much about having got David and Annie to come all the way up from Beckenham to see the show, then he’d paid for the tickets, and to cap it all, the play was rubbish. I wrote a withering e-mail to Dominic, the internet wine chap who’d given me the voucher, saying “Considering we had to pay for our seats, we did our best to apreciate the show”. I thought this line was particularly cutting, and I asked Carrie how many p’s there were in appreciate. She said “One”. After I’d sent the mail, I did a spell check and found it’s actually two. I was very irritated at this.

Decided not to worry myself any more about David and Annie. As Carrie wisely pointed out “We can sort it out by asking them up from Beckenham some time next week for a meal”.

Monday, April 20, 2009

David and Annie James (Annie Fullers as was) came across for a quick bite to eat late in the afternoon, and then we headed off to The Tank. We got a tube to King’s Cross, and changed and went to the Angel. David even put a fiver on our Oysters, saying we’d paid for more than our fair share by buying the tickets.

We got to the theatre. Interestingly, a lot of the rather scruffy looking crowd who’d come out of the tube were headed that way, except for some over-large Americans with backpacks. I went ahead to the box office and presented a print out of the mail. The man looked at it, called out “Zac! Any idea what this is?” and held it up. Another man came across, looked at it, and said “Where’d you get this from?" A bit put out, I said “Dominic Merton. Who else?" He said “Dominic Merton? Who’s he?" I said, pretty brusquely, “You ought to know. He knows all the major producers”. He replied “Does he. Well, I’m sorry. Means nothing to me. Oh, and just for your information, this mail comes from Callum Swinstead, the previous guy, and he’s gone”. It all got a bit heated, when David, who’d gone upstairs with Annie and Carrie, called out: “Come on!”. I went after him, and a pleasant young chap said “Could you come this way? I’ll show you to your seats – they’re on the gantry next to the lighting desk”. I said to David “How on earth did you get these sorted?” and to my horror he replied “Paid for them. How else?"

This was humiliating enough, and I could hardly understand the play, but there was still more humiliation to come. I’d dressed smartly in a nice cream jacket. There was a metal bar in front of me, which I leant on. Unfortunately, it was covered in rust, which left a big dirty mark right across the chest. To hide it, I had to keep my arms crossed for the rest of the evening, which made my shoulders ache.

Saturday, April 18, 2009

Dominic got back to me, saying things were busy, and he couldn’t sort tickets for Joseph, The Sound of Music, Oliver or Chicago, but one of the best shows around was Brown Bushes at The Tank in Islington. He forwarded an e-mail authorising the four tickets, and attached an invoice for the wine.

Friday, April 17, 2009

Carrie reminded me that her old school friend Annie Fullers (now Annie James) and her husband were going to be around for a few days, and said it’d be nice to take them to the theatre. She asked me to e-mail Dominic and ask for some complimentaries for Joseph, The Sound of Music, Oliver or Chicago, which I did.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Cummings called, bringing his friend Dominic Merton, who’s got this internet wine business. Gowing also dropped in. Dominic made himself at home, and Carrie and I took an instant liking to him. He seemed very much on our wavelength.

He leaned back in his chair and said “Forgive me: what you see is what you get”. I replied “Same here – we’re pretty down to earth. We don’t pretend to be better than we are”.

He answered “No, I can see that” and Gowing laughed his head off. But Dominic politely said to Gowing “I don’t think you quite get my drift. What I was trying to say was that Charles and Carrie clearly don’t bother with what’s “in” and what’s “out”, and certainly aren’t the kind of people who’d waste their time hanging out in trendy restaurants and wine-bars, paying for it all on plastic”.

I was very pleased to hear Dominic’s take on things, and wrapped it up by saying “To be completely frank, Dominic, we can’t be bothered with that kind of scene. And when you factor in the cost of cabs and everything else, it simply doesn’t seem worth the money”.

On the subject of “friends”, Dominic said “My motto is “few and true”. And by the way, I also apply that to wine: “little and good””. Gowing said “Yes, and sometimes “cheap and cheerful”, eh mate?" Dominic continued that he’d treat me as a mate, and put me down for a New World Wine Selection sample case. Since I was an old friend of Gowing’s, he’d let it go for £45, which was actually well under cost price. He tapped the order into his iPhone and said anytime we wanted any West End theatre tickets, we should let him know, because he could get us into any of the shows.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

It looks like I’ve got a cold. I couldn’t stop sneezing in the office. When I got home, I asked Carrie to pop out and get some Night Nurse. I fell asleep on the sofa, and when I woke up, I was all shivery. I was startled by a knock on the door, then remembered the bell wasn’t working. It was Cummings. He patted me on the shoulder and said “No worries. I’ve just seen Gowing. We’ll say no more about it”. They’re obviously both under the impression I’ve apologised to them.

Cummings and I had a game of Connect 4. He said “Do you fancy buying some booze? My cousin Dominic Merton has just set up an internet mail order service - and he’s got a fantastic malt at thirty quid a bottle, and a really good Merlot at £5.99. It’d be worth getting a few off him”. I told him my drinks cabinet was fully stocked right now. Embarrassingly, Carrie walked in and put half a bottle of whisky on the table, and said, “Sorry Charles, they’d run out of Night Nurse, but the man in the shop says this makes a great hot toddy for only £6.99 a bottle. Oh, and he asked if you wanted some more Piat D’Or, because it’s on 2-for-1 this week”.

“Sorry Charles, they’d run out of Night Nurse, but this makes a good hot toddy for only £6.99 a bottle.”

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

I thought of writing Gowing and Cummings a more up-beat e-mail about last Sunday. At the same time, I was going to mention I wasn’t particularly impressed by Stillbrook. Afterwards, I deleted it. E-mails get misunderstood sometimes. I decided to have a quiet word with them instead. I was surprised to receive an e-mail from Cummings, saying he and Gowing were waiting for an explanation of MY (yes MY) strange behaviour on the way back on Sunday. Eventually I wrote “I thought I was the one who’d been hard done by. But as I’m happy to forget it, I’d have thought that you (who’re also feeling hard done by) would be happy to forget it too”.

I’ve copied this word-for-word, because I think it’s one of the most carefully considered sentences I’ve ever written. I sent the e-mail, but to tell the truth, I felt like I was making an apology … for having been treated badly by them.

Monday, April 13, 2009

Did a bit of gardening after work. When it got dark, I came in and wrote an e-mail to Cummings and Gowing. Neither of them had been in touch: perhaps they were a bit embarrassed about the way they’d treated me yesterday. In the end I decided not to send it.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Stillbrook takes a call on his Blackberry - 3rd Fairway

At two, Cummings and Gowing drove round with a friend called Mike Stillbrook and we all headed over to Northwick Park to play nine holes at the public course there. We made our way round chatting together, except Stillbrook, who spent most of the time glued to his Blackberry.

Approaching the 6th green

Afterwards, we debated whether to go and get something to eat, but Stillbrook said he’d be fine with a beer in the clubhouse.

Heading back to the clubhouse

We arrived, but the man on reception wouldn’t let me into the bar because I was still wearing golf shoes, and hadn’t brought a spare pair to change into.

As I turned to leave I saw Stillbrook followed by Gowing and Cummings heading for the entrance. I thought I’d have a laugh at their expense, but to my surprise they’d all changed into loafers, and were allowed straight in.

Gowing called back to me and said “Sorry they’ll not let you in. We’ll only have a swift half. Back in a minute”. They vanished into the bar. I ended up waiting for nearly an hour. When they eventually came back out they were all in high spirits, and Stillbrook was the only one decent enough to apologise. He said, “Sorry you had to wait, but we got another round in, and, well … you know how it goes”. I didn’t say a word coming back in the car. I felt pretty fed up all evening, but didn’t think it would be wise to mention any of it to Carrie.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

Spent the whole of the afternoon in the garden, having picked up a fantastic book by Alan Titchmarsh which was on offer in Waterstones. I got some half-hardy annuals at Notcutts, and sowed them in a border on the sunny side of the garden. I thought of a joke, and called to Carrie. She came out looking rather irritated. “Do you know what – this place is a public school”. She said “What are you talking about?” and I said “Look at the boarders”. Carrie said “Eh?” I said “Look at the boarders.” Carrie said “Is that all you wanted me for?” I said “Normally you’d laugh at a little joke like that.” Carrie said “Normally, yes, but not when I’m busy in the house”.

The stairs look nice. Gowing called and said they looked all right but it now made the other side (the outside bit facing the hall) look all wrong. He said it needed painting as well. Carrie agreed. I rang Putley, but there was no reply. I’ll take steps to get it seen to later. Come to think of it, that’s quite funny.

Friday, April 10, 2009

An amazing coincidence. Carrie had got a woman in to make some calico covers for our conservatory chair and sofa, to stop the sun fading the upholstery. I recognised her immediately: years ago she worked for an old aunt of mine in Clapham. It’s a small world.

Thursday, April 09, 2009

No sign of any sprouting in the herb garden. I left Farmerson trying to shift the urn, and when I came home, two workmen from Transco were with him. He’d been digging out the urn, and severed the gas main with his pick axe. He reckoned it was a ridiculous place to put a gas pipe and Portland Properties must be a right bunch of cowboys. Whatever his excuse, I’m the one who’ll end up out of pocket.

After supper, Gowing dropped in. He’d been given a scented candle by a friend called Dave Shoemach who’d been to a Native American heritage centre in the States. He thought it would be nice to light it in the conservatory and put our feet up. Carrie joined us later, but didn’t stay long, because she said the smoke was a bit much for her. To tell the truth it was all a bit too much for me as well (according to the packet it was essence of “cudweed sagewort”) so I said I’d go and fetch some drinks, and slipped into the kitchen and out the side door to get some air.

I went back into the conservatory with Carrie. Gowing was now trying to light some kind of incense stick. I said probably best not to. Then he began his usual sniffing, so I thought I’d beat him to it and said “You’re not going to complain about the smell of paint again, are you?" He said “No, but I tell you what, there’s a funny smell of mortar”. I don’t often make jokes, but I replied “Ah Gowing: it doesn’t matter how good things are, you’ll always find something mortar complain about”. I couldn’t help roaring at this, and Carrie said she nearly split her sides. I think it’s the funniest thing I’ve ever said. I actually woke up twice in the night and laughed until the bed shook.

Wednesday, April 08, 2009

No sign of any sprouting in the herb garden yet. I had an irritating day. I missed the 8:45 train to work because I was having words with the paper boy, who’d yet again ridden his BMX over the grass and thrown our copy of the Mail on the driveway. He said he’d tried to put it through the letter box, but the draft excluder was jammed shut, and the doorbell didn‘t seem to be working.

I was half an hour late for work, which I’ve never been before. Recently, the office juniors have been turning up pretty much as they please, and unfortunately Barry Perkupp (our manager) chose this morning to pounce. Someone had got wind of it and passed the word around, so everyone was in bang on time. Except me. Daniel Buckling (Assistant Processing Manager) was a real trooper and covered for me. As I passed Michael Pitt’s desk, he said to Annette (from Resources) “You know, some of these senior guys think they can turn up any time they like!”. Obviously, this was meant for me. I didn’t rise to the bait (just gave him a look). Unfortunately the pair of them started laughing. Thinking about it afterwards, it might have been better if I’d pretended not to have heard anything at all. Cummings called in the evening and we played Connect 4.

Tuesday, April 07, 2009

The man I’d found in the Yellow Pages - John Farmerson - came round to shift the urn. Seemed a very nice bloke. Said he didn’t usually do such small jobs himself, but for me he would. I thanked him and headed off to work. It’s shocking how late some of the office juniors are arriving. I told three of them that if Barry Perkupp (our Manager) found out, they’d get a warning from HR.

Michael Pitt, a cheeky 17 year-old who’s only been with us for six weeks said “Calm down! Calm down!” in a silly Liverpudlian accent. I told him I’d had the pleasure of being with the company twenty years, to which he sarcastically replied “Yeah - looks like it!”. I gave him a cold look, and said “I expect you to show me more respect”. He replied “Expect what you like mate”. I didn’t bother arguing any further. You can‘t argue with people like that. Gowing called round in the evening, and complained about the smell of paint (again). Sometimes, he can be very tedious. He made a few off-colour comments about Christine Bleakley during The One Show. At one point, Carrie had to remind him that there was a lady present.

Monday, April 06, 2009

Terrible start to the day. A man from Virgin Media, who we decided not to sign up with, arrived to install some cable gubbins. When it became clear we were signed up to Sky, he started giving me an earful about the ‘ball ache’ this sort of thing caused and said they could do without customers like me. I just said, “So what are you making all this fuss about?”, and he shouted at the top of his voice so the whole street could hear “Forget it mate. You’re a waste of space”.

I shut the door, and was pointing out to Carrie that this was all her fault, when there was a violent kicking at the door, enough to crack the PVC. It was the bloke from Virgin Media again, saying he’d tripped over the urn and sprained his ankle, and he’d be calling Claims Direct. Found an odd jobs man in the Yellow Pages and arranged for him to come round to move the urn. Didn’t think it worth bothering him about the wireless door bell - I’ll buy a new one from Argos.

Arrived home rather out of sorts. Had decided against painting the stair trim myself and asked in Frank Putley, a local decorator who’d put a flyer through the door. He couldn’t match the colour on the stairs because it was a cheap job lot from the (discontinued) Llewellyn Bowen Renaissance range. He suggested repainting the stairs entirely. It wouldn’t cost much more, and if he tried to match the colours, it could easily end up looking like a bodge job. We’d all feel a lot better having the work done properly. I agreed, but couldn’t help feeling he might be pulling a fast one. Planted some herbs and went to bed at nine.

Sunday, April 05, 2009

Andrew Marr, pain au chocolat and the Mail on Sunday. Were joined for lunch by the Social Secretary of the squash club. Couldn’t get the porch door open because the Chubb keys had somehow been mislaid, so had to usher him round to the side entrance. He tripped over the urn and tore a hole in the knee of his trousers. Really annoying. Had a snooze after lunch. Washed the car then walked round the garden and discovered a beautiful spot for growing some herbs (I prefer the real thing to the dried stuff). Went to the squash club for the evening quiz and the Social Secretary asked me to be one of the team captains, which was a great compliment.

Saturday, April 04, 2009

Being a Saturday, I’d hoped to have a lie in, but two of the managers were off sick yesterday so I had to set up my laptop in the kitchen and do some work in the morning. At around seven pm Brian (the delivery driver from Somerfield) rang the bell and said he was very sorry for his behaviour last night. He said he’d been working nights all week and it had pushed him over the edge. He said it had never happened before and hoped I’d accept a £10 money-off voucher by way of an apology. He seems a nice enough chap after all, so I told him we’d carry on using Somerfields’ delivery service, and we’d definitely be getting All Bran! I hadn’t noticed before, but the wood between the banisters and the tread of the stairs on the inside is actually unpainted, which is irritating, since I was under the impression we’d paid for a fully decorated house. Carrie said I could probably colour match it down at Homebase, and it wouldn’t take long to do. I’ll try to get it sorted next week.

Friday, April 03, 2009

No All Bran for breakfast! The Somerfield delivery driver must have forgotten it. Rang Somerfield to complain and was left listening to “Lady in Red” several times over, before I eventually got to speak to the manager.

Couldn’t find my umbrella, and got soaked on the way to work. I think Gowing maybe took it last night by mistake.

Were rudely interrupted during The One Show by a loud banging on the
front door. It was the delivery driver from Somerfields (the badge he was wearing said his name was Brian) who angrily blamed Carrie for the mix up with the All Bran. I wouldn’t swear to it, but I thought he might be drunk. He said he’d had enough of delivering to snooty estates. I managed to keep remarkably calm, and told him I thought it was possible to live in a nice area without being snooty. He said that was nice to hear, and had I ever come across anyone in the neighbourhood who wasn‘t snooty, because he certainly hadn’t. He pretty much threw the box of All Bran at me and slammed the porch door behind him, which nearly broke the seal, and I heard him fall over the urn, which made me glad I hadn’t removed it. After he’d gone, I thought of a really cutting comment I could have made. I’ll save it for another occasion.

Thursday, April 02, 2009

Welcome packs arrived from both Sky Plus and Virgin Media - Carrie had signed up with the latter without telling me. Gowing called and fell over the urn on his way in. Must get that urn moved.

Wednesday, April 01, 2009

Service providers still calling. A nice chap from Sky called. He was offering a very competitive deal on their ‘Sky Plus’ package, which sounded too good to miss. They’ll be round to install it next week. Carrie did our weekly shop at Somerfield and made use of the free home delivery service they offer when you spend £25 or more. In the evening, Cummings dropped in unexpectedly to show me the Nintendo DS he’d bought on e-bay, and told me to handle it carefully because the stylus could easily scratch the screen. He said he wouldn’t stay, because he said he didn’t like the smell of new paint, and fell over our ornamental urn on the way out. Must move the urn round to the back garden, or else I’ll earn the disapproval of visitors. I don’t often make jokes.

Our good friend Cummings

Why shouldn’t
I publish
my diary?

I often see memoirs by people I’ve never even heard of and I don’t see why my diary should be any less interesting, just because I’m not a ‘celebrity’. I only wish I’d started it when I was younger.

Charles Pooter
The Laurels, 32 Elmside,
Barleycorn Mead, Harrow on the Hill.
charles@charlespooter.com