Picture the scene...
Wicked Stepmother was happily
ensconced in a large leather winged back chair,
cheek by jowl with Wicked Stepdaughter.
Content we were,
sitting in a pub.
Pint for WSD,
wussy ½ pint shandy for WSM.
A trawl of the charity shops,
a visit to Kitsch and Stitch,
a chance for the girls to bond over
a little light retail therapy.
All rounded off with a pub lunch before we
tottered back to the village fete.
Ted was on point-duty in the car park,
flask of coffee and pork pie in pocket.
Deep in conversation over a sandwich,
completely oblivious of all around, we sat
talking the talk of girls...
froth, fro fro and the state of the world.
(last bit's a fib!)
Looking up two women had hoved into view...
'I thought I ought to apologise for me
I looked at her with jaw dropped,
I looked at my chest with lips pursed.
Through my mind flitted the thought,
over the years this mantelpiece of my
anatomy has caused me many a scrape.
As I've got older the only scrape it gets me into
is the pavement if I don't wear a bra.
Head in hands I thought...
'Since you came in I've been admiring your
'Phew!' I wiped my brow.
'Is it made by Julie Arkell?'
'No, it isn't, guess who?'
'Viv of hensteeth?
A long conversation with Nel ensued,
we enthused about what
a wonderfully talented artist Viv is.
The upshot was, at the Eridge Fair she had asked Viv
if she would do a workshop in
'I'll come!' says I.
Nel said a friend had already
phoned to say had she organised
a hensteeth workshop yet?
So Viv if you're reading this...
it's over to you.