Charlie wrote back!

Since Charlie's first letter I've had lots of e-mails asking where you can find his blog.  To tell you the truth, you know as much as I do.  I have asked him for the blog name, but he seems to avoid the question, for the moment all we can enjoy is another of his letters, this one arrived on my desk this morning....

   Oi Sharon, it’s me Charlie.  I’m back.  How  are yer?

  Just been on your blog to see me little gite in among all your  posh things and I was bit overcome.   How do you like the colour of  the roof?   Nice innit?  I chose the colour cos it makes it  look like we got real tiles up there and not tin.  Cor it don’t half make  a racket when it rains.

   My Gladys did the paint job and what a palaver that was.   I got the ladder out for her (bloke’s got to his bit)  and then she had a hell of a time getting up there.   What wiv 5  gallons of roofing paint and the slippery slope it wasn’t easy for the girl.    Quite worried I was.   One slip would have been €300 of paint down the drain.  Not to mention the damage to all them bedding  plants she put in.  She’d have pulled the bloomin' gutter down too.   Couldn’t stand the pressure.  Went in to put the kettle on and watch the footy

Last week some of me mates came down from London and we went fishing for the weekend.  Fishin’ in France ain’t like it is in Blighty; ever so serious they are.  No drinkin’ during the day and they have a proper lunch wiv wine an’ all.  We started on the beer mid morning cos the lads were getting’ a bit twitchy.   After a few beers they was getting’ noisy.   Makin’ jokes about frogs is not good for the old entente cordial you know.    Things like  “What do frogs drink?”  “Hot croako”    I says it’s all right for you blighters but I’ve got to live ‘ere with this lot so shut up!    Should have seen us.  What a  sight.    

  You got a lot of Yankee  Doodle Dandies reading your stuff ain’t ya.  Some good looking ladies  too.   Not that I’ve got a wanderin’ eye or anything but my Gladys  says she don’t mind me lookin’ at the menu so long as I eat me dinner at home.    She’s a good girl; didn’t moan about me fishing trip and told me  to have a good time.  Not like her at all.  Really taking care  of herself these days too.  She don’t go out in her slippers no more and  she’s getting her hair done regular.  Looking all right she is.  Must be the influence of her French mates.

Seeing those Yankee ladies reminds me of when I got loads of Americans in the back of me cab.   In the good old days when a dollar was a dollar.   They always wanted to take me photo at the wheel in front of Buck House or something.   Course I kept the meter running didn’t I?   Got to make an honest bob or two when you can.  One bloke from New York, nice he was,  rented me cab for a whole day and could he talk?  Didn’t get a word in edgeways.  When I got home Gladys said I had an American accent.

Meanwhile here in deepest France me parlay vooin’ is comin’ along a treat.   Teaching ‘em a few cocky expressions like  “farcissez ca pour une aluette”.  Get it?   Stuff that for a lark eh?   Obvious innit?   Nobody gets it round here though; must be the way I say it.   How about “confiture de trafic?”  No sense of humour this lot.

Anyway the big news is the Mayor has asked my Gladys if she will go on his Consul  Administrayshun.  Town Council to you and me.   He said they’ve got local elections comin’ up in a couple of years and he thinks Gladys will add an  “international dimension to his team.”    Whatever turns you on I  say.    But you know what?  I’ll be a great power behind the throne don’t you think?   The silent one me.  And, if Gladys can swing me a bar  license for the gite, it’s a hole in one.   

So I say go for  it girl.  

Are you a local politico?   Bet you’re a big  wheel in parlimong and keeping it under your hat right?.   Planning to  throw it on the blog when we don’t expect it right?

Anyway, got to dash  now.  Gladys wants me to take her into town for a new frock......................  I can feel another long weekend with me mates comin’ on.

Ta ta for now

Charlie

 Oh dear ...  I'm not sure how long Charlie and Gladys are going to last in their French village, wherever they are.  Sounds to me like Charlie is having the wool pulled over his eyes.  Still, I'm not going to get involved, let's just wait and see how they do.