Tuesday 28 September 2021

Obsession

This post started life as a comment in Jon's box.  Coke? Cock? You choose (cock of course!). 

My mother lives in a retirement village for the over 60s, a new man has recently* bought the flat opposite hers a "David Hunter" lookalike if you please (I had to google him, he was in Crossroads years ago apparently)

A cock in the henhouse.

My mother and "David" real name Ken, share an entrance hall. My mother has a daily, but has taken to hoovering the outside entrance hall herself, twice a day in the hope of snaring a few moments with her new neighbour. My mother has had her white hair dyed champagne blonde, she has had her eyebrows micro bladed and is wearing ocelot blouses with chunky jewellery ala Bet Lynch circa 1985, but that's not the saddest thing I've discovered about my mother's wanton behaviour, when I paid her a visit this morning I noticed four round indentation marks in the Berber Twist, just behind her front door, it didn't take me long to work out what made those marks, they're from a wooden stool she uses to stand on when replacing light bulbs, she must sit on it all day long looking out of her spy hole in the middle of the door, desperate for a glimpse of her fantasy paramour. My mother is not the only one acting daft, Patricia who lives in the flat upstairs has had her ratty hair bobbed and Barbara who lives opposite Patricia looks noticeably slimmer.

* I say recently, he has being living there for a few months now.

8 comments:

  1. I see my future unfurl before me - with the ocelot blouses, and the Harry Enfield sketch.
    Sx

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    1. When my dad was alive she used to be a beige woman now she wears gold shoes! Quite the merry widow.

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  2. What a pack of trollops, I'm sure it's a burden to you. Meanwhile, Ken/David almost certainly has some 30 year old Ukranian slut keeping the old goat topped off. Or a skeezy rentboy. Same difference.

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    1. I couldn't agree with you more, she-cats on heat the lot of em! Mind you, when the death bed comes around I would rather be on mine thinking "Oh, Mitzi how could you?" rather than " Oh, Mitzi why the Hell didn't you?" I let her get on with it. My mother will fall off her perching stool if she ever saw him go indoors with an Ukrainian peasant, she'd be on the phone to Pat and Barbara upstairs and together they'd be plotting and twisting.

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  3. I don't really know what to say about your mother morphing into Bet Lynch, but your music choice reminded me of this PopChop Cut The F Up Remix with the Beastie Boys.

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  4. Thank you for the link a proper mince down memory lane, I wonder if they are still calling themselves boys?

    She seemed less flighty when I called in yesterday, it must be the calming effects of the bromide that I've been putting into her tea or was it arsenic I've been giving her? she didn't answer her phone this morning... mother...mother!

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