I have two words for you. The order is important but I'll let you sort it. They concern the house we will be living in from the autumn. The lovely house we will be living in. The five bedroom, three loo, two bathroom house with a conservatory the size of a basketball court. It'll be great and there's loads of room for guests, passers by, hangers on and the homeless from the surrounding villages. OK the lead-light windows are imitation. So what? The beech flooring is laminate. Bothered. You see the words, and with these we have I think finally achieved what they call 'arrival' in true and real verifiable suburbia, are...
Wait for it...
Mock and Tudor.
So I lied. That is the order.
The whole of St Paul's is invited to afternoon tea on the way down to the Parish Weekend in November. We'll entertain you in, hmm let me think, oh I know, half the conservatory.
Don't steal our crab apples now. I'm watching.
And I'll have a secret study. Liz can have a study/dressing room. Then we can have a guest room, a bedroom for us (or shall we have one each?) and the last room, currently occupied by a gothteen (pile of black clothes draped over an amp) could be the library.
We'll be needing a labrador again I expect. And a second car if we aren't to stand out as weird. It's described as an ideal family home so I'm off to buy a vasectomy reversal kit.
Gosh this is exciting.
Ha ha Henry you fat git. I'm getting the hang of this Tudor mocking.