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Mr. Pallister's Marbles.
By Brenda Stevenson

Mr. Pollster's lost his marbles. Well that's what Mrs. Many told me. "Here," she said, "Have you heard? Mr. Pallister's lost his marbles." For a split second I took it literally, thank goodness I realised what she meant. EEG, I would have felt a right fool if I'd said "Where," or "I didn't know he played." Apparently he was as right as rain one minute then running round the garden talking a load of gibberish the next. I feel right sorry for him. I think I'll send him a card.                  

I've sent the card. Put a first class stamp on so he'll get it tomorrow. D'you know the first card I looked at had a picture of these two lads playing marbles. I had to smile. Of course I didn't send that one but one with the picture of a Yorkshire Terrier sitting in a basket. He used to have a little Yorkie years ago. He walked that dog twice every day. You could've set your clock by him. Sometimes I'd be pottering in the garden when he passed. "Good morning," or "Good evening," depending on the time of day. To tell the truth I often wished I could have plucked up the courage to ask him in for a cup of tea. But I just couldn't. I mean I would have hated him to think I was forward or anything like that.

Guess what? I've had a letter from Mr. Pallister, well more of a note really. He's fully recovered and he'll be home in a couple of days. He's had something wrong with his waterworks and apparently if you're getting on like us, it can make you quite confused. Anyway, he's asked me to pop in for a cup of tea next Wednesday. We had a lovely afternoon. I took some cake, marble cake, my main's recipe. I must say I felt a bit nervous but needn't have. We got on like a house on fire, we had a good chat and it's amazing how much have in common.

He's coming here for his dinner on Saturday. I'm going to do pork chops with mushrooms, my speciality. I think I'll do mashed potatoes and carrots. I think carrots are a safe bet, not like sprouts or cabbage. It's really nice to have a friend, a male friend after all these years.

Just think, if Mr. Pallister hadn't lost his marbles and I hadn't sent that card we'd probably still be at the good morning good evening stage. Life's funny isn't it? funny but nice.



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