The Diary of a Nobody
Being the modern day record of Charles
Pooter VI -
direct descendant of the 19th Century original
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.
©MMIX KONSIGNIA. All rights reserved.
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
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