It is not customary to drive the stake vertically . . .

Perfect Retirement Housing Complex

Inner Hamlet

CORSETTSHIRE QY4 2PN

My Dear Ralph

I think I may have upset my chum Marilyn this morning pet.  We were strolling about the grounds of her house and she happened to show me several of her newly-planted fruit trees.  As you know dear, it is rather difficult to hold off from airing any new knowledge that one might have acquired, and I pointed out that having tree stakes which are nearly the height of the entire tree is not quite up-to-the-minute in terms of professional know-how.  Marilyn glared at me frostily at this point and launched into a disquisition on the force 10 gales which regularly assail her property.  I held my ground pet and rejoindered that - at Kew - it is rare that a stake height will exceed 60cm!  I further remarked that it is not usually customary to drive the stake vertically through the rootball of a container tree - and there I fear our friendship may have terminated.

The day did not much improve with a visit to the hairdressers.  The young man was rather brutal on the subject of my 'excessive and much-repeated' applications of bleach over the years.  He said that, if I didn't have it all shaved off that very day, he could not answer for the consequences.  Pet!  I fear the configuration of my head may now resemble that of a Buddhist monk.  I barely recognize myself without my French pleat and I don't think anyone else will either.  Whatever will William from Raptor-on-the-Lake think when sees me next?

Well 'Dah svee dah nee yah' dear.  I think that's (almost) right.  I am presently focusing on keeping my language skills - vestigial as they might be - up-to-date, as you never know when I might be called back into the field.  (Funds are in short supply as you know!)
Yours
Aunt Agatha

I squeezed the larynx of said practitioner . . .

'Perfect Retirement Housing Complex

Inner Hamlet

CORSETTSHIRE  QY4 2PN

My Dear Ralph
I think I may have made one or two spelling mistakes in my last missive.  Apologies dear.  During my years as an operative, my memoranda were always of the most exacting standard!
Our Leader has apparently told the Pope and the Popette (the 'unofficial' committee) that they are no longer allowed to make any profits from their Egg Head sessions in the lounge.  Pom-Pom and I have been trying to make sense of this, as any proceeds do go into the general committee funds (run by the 'official' committee).  It does seem that Our Leader is trying to limit the power exercised by the papal duo.  Unfortunately, as neither party has too much of a grip on the general principles of democracy, I can imagine that a certain amount of ill-will might be being vented, behind closed doors, at opposite ends of the building.  This is what happens when one dominant autocratic power challenges another pet!
Meanwhile, I have been reflecting on my recent, very physical, encounter down at the Inner Hamlet NHS dental surgery.  I think I may have told you dear, about the grisly tooth and jaw pain I was racked by several weeks ago?  Well, in all my years as an operative (40), I have never been reduced to manhandling a practitioner of the dental arts - and I haven't felt able to write further about it until today!  It is all very well pet, administering an injection of local anaesthetic, but it does have to succeed in deadening the tooth.  It is absolutely no good persisting with any attempt to drill on an exposed nerve!  So I'm afraid I squeezed the larynx of said dental practitioner between my thumb and forefinger, to prevent him from continuing and to communicate the extremity of my agony.  (I'm not altogether sure that he was expecting a lady decked out in silk and pearls to be acquainted with disabling tactics of this magnitude, as his respirations were still somewhat on the raspy side when I departed!)  And, before I departed, the tension and general atmosphere in the room resembled that to be found on the bridge of a submarine diving into the depths of the sea while being bombed.  My waistline was riven with spasms - due to the arching of my torso during this session - for days afterwards, and I can quite understand how our application of 'special measures' during the Cold War got results!  Now I know I am fortunate that a dead tooth is a silent tooth, but it is still one that I wish had lived and am sad to have lost!
Yours
Aunt Agatha

Secret Service: EPISODE 25

Perfect Retirement Housing Complex

Inner Hamlet

CORSETTSHIRE  Qy4 2PN

My Dear Ralph

I woke up this morning feeling, as usual, somewhat distant from the light.  When Perfect was designing these bedsits, I don't know how they ever imagined people could sleep in windowless cubicles at least 5m distant from the sitting room windows.  Frankly pet, it is like being wheeled into the mortuary drawer every night!  I must say that the elderly here have amazing powers of fortitude to be able to go on living, year after year, in such circumstances.

I do believe I was going to say one or two words about Perfect's response to our 'flat roof' letter, wasn't I dear?  Well this missive arrived and Pom-Pom and I eagerly tore open the envelope.  Inside was a pleasantly-worded piece from a Complex Performance Manager, who assured us that Our Leader had done everything humanly possible to investigate our complaint.  Well Pom-Pom and I exchanged one or two words over that, I can assure you pet!  I must say that the letter writer's reference to the 'mild spring weather' we experience in May and June, caused Pom-Pom and I some hours of hilarity.  'Mild spring weather!'  We don't know what part of the country the Complex Performance Manager is residing in, but it certainly isn't anywhere near here!  You can certainly rely on Perfect never to properly address residents' complaints or exercise any initiative.  Anyone else dear, would have been beavering away investigating the topic of 'the cooling effects of roof gardens on flat roofs' etc.

Some while after this, Pom-Pom and I decided that our next step would be to ask Our Leader to instal wall thermometers on each floor, with the aim of investigating the size of the problem posed by this roof.  It seemed politic not to go ourselves this time, and so we coached our neighbour Gruntle (who also moans loudly every summer about  the temperature) on the subject of this thermometer request.  Luckily, Our Leader was in the presence of the Complex Performance Manager on this occasion and Gruntle secured a result!  Eventually, and I do mean months pet, tiny plastic thermometers did appear on the corridor walls.  Pom-Pom and I surmised that these items were probably procured from Woolworths!  And, one day, when we came in together and were standing by the lift - situated in unfortunate proximity to the lounge - we heard Mrs Brownie's voice emerging from the gloom, enquiring whether or not we'd observed said thermometers.  Well pet, before we had a chance to muster a reply, Our Leader's voice came blasting through the doorway: 'WHAT DO WE NEED THERMOMETERS FOR?  WE KNOW IT'S HOT!'  Dear me pet!  What does one say?  Poor Pom-Pom and I crawled gratefully in through the lift doors as they opened and, fanning ourselves against a wall, ascended to the (relative) safety of our rooms.

Yours

Aunt Agatha   

Lancelot did appear to get the hump at this point . . .

Perfect Retirement Housing Complex

Inner Hamlet

CORSETTSHIRE QY4 2PN

My Dear Ralph

I thought I'd take this moment, while Pom-Pom is otherwise engaged on the pot (haemorrhoids I think pet) to mention that I have not heard from William from Raptor-on-the-Lake.  It is just possible that he has found a lady living in more salubrious circumstances than myself, but it is a pity because such an acquaintance does introduce an element of Hope into life.  While I am on this subject, I don't know if I have ever told you about Lancelot and his recently deceased cat, Percy?  Well, Lancelot was also procured from the internet and turned out to be a peripatetic singing teacher, who had always lived with his mother, also recently deceased.  When we met up he was, of course, eager to demonstrate the workings of his model railway, up in the attic.  Those stiff metal ladders, ascending from his mother's bedroom, were very difficult to climb up dear, especially when one is clad in a tight skirt, heels and Sheer-Touch stockings.  It was also rather chilly up there, with what appeared to be a wintry wind blowing through the slate tiles on the roof.  Anyway, I did try to appear keen as Lancelot handed me one of those control box devices with which to control the engines running in and out of sundry tunnels and so forth.  Lancelot, meanwhile, disappeared through a tunnel himself into an adjacent attic and shouted jovially through the breeze blocks that he also had a control panel on his side.  I don't know pet.  Perhaps I am getting a bit too old for this kind of thing, but I really don't feel all that keen on train sets.
On another day, we set out in his motor for Winchbury-on-the-Hill and Lancelot kindly offered to purchase a sit-down meal of fish and chips for us both.  I don't know whether it was my experience with the train set that did it dear but, when he lined his bottles of blood pressure tablets up alongside his plate, I did find myself feeling a bit cross.  I am not altogether sure it was the most tactful thing I could have said, but I did find myself announcing that surely it was a bit much to consume a plateful of saturated fat and then expect the tablets to hoover all the fat up afterwards!  I am right aren't I pet?  Surely it makes more sense to consume a more balanced repast in conjunction with said tablets?  I really don't understand society's mania for tablet consumption.  Surely one has to do some of this work oneself!  Anyway, Lancelot did appear to get the hump at this point and I could tell from the hue of his complexion that his blood pressure was definitely rising!  In fact, things deteriorated to the point where I felt that he might leave me behind in Winchbury-on-the-Hill to catch the bus back.
However, I think he was a fundamentally kind man dear and he did tell me a rather touching story about his recently deceased cat, Percy.  Percy, apparently, had got mown down in a traffic accident some doors down from where Lancelot resides and Lancelot had to go along to collect the body.  When he got there, it turned out that somehow Percy's tail had stiffened, in rigor mortis, at a 90 degree angle to the rest of him.  Well, of course, poor Lancelot had quite a job to stuff Percy into the cat carrier with his tail at such an acute angle.  And then he had to be buried!  Lancelot did tell me that, at first, he was going to snap - or saw - off Percy's tail but found he couldn't bring himself to inflict such mutilation upon a deceased family member.  So, apparently pet, the poor man spent hours digging an especially large pit in the garden to accommodate the body plus appendage.  Actually dear, it must have been very hard work digging a hole in this particular garden as the turf was only about 2.5cm thick and then one reached bedrock!  (I had cause to notice this during the course of examining Lancelot's garden tools preparatory to planting a summer shrub.  And we had to use a pickaxe in the end!)
Yours
Aunt Agatha

We swelter in frightful conditions dear . . .

The Perfect Retirement Housing Complex

Inner Hamlet

CORSETTSHIRE QY4 2PN

My Dear Ralph

I don't know whether I have ever mentioned Perfect's quarterly newsletter have I pet?  This publication arrives here in large quantities for our perusal and is, I must say, splendidly glossy and well laid out.  However, it does appear to fall down in the sphere of actual meaningful content, for one is presented with an idyllic picture of residential life which, as Pom-Pom and I have frequently remarked, we sometimes find hard to recognize.  On page after page, we find eulogies about post-retirement life in Perfect establishments, not to mention any number of photos of beaming residents clustered about their birthday cakes at the age of 100.  (I personally would not wish the mayoral chain to be flapping about my face on this day - should I ever reach it - pet.)  There are also one or two instances of rather silly articles and one such recent item has, as its subject, our artificial flower/pot displays, set out - as you may recall - in the alcoves outside our rooms.  Some nitwit from Perfect hs apparently decided that these items may constitute a 'fire risk' and so the Management may well be on their way round to remove them.  I ask you pet!  Whatever next!  They might just as well rip up the carpets, tear down the net curtains, and remove the pictures from the walls.  Doubtless the resulting bare and unprepossessing grey corridors would not be flammable - but neither then would they look like Home!
On the subject of fire, I don't know whether I have told you, dear, about our letter boxes or, for that matter, the roof?  Our letter boxes are protected by TWO metal flaps and this is, presumably, to contain any fire which may break out in a Perfect bedsit.  And this might well be to the good pet, if only said bedsits had windows on more than one wall and weren't situated under a flat roof!  The net effect is to contain the residents inside a virtually sealed box and to bake us like chickens in an oven whenever the outside temperature reaches 25'C and above!  We swelter in frightful conditions, dear, all summer long, and God only knows what this incineration does to the health of those immured behind closed doors with heart and breathing conditions!
A couple of years ago, Pom-Pom and I dared raise this subject with Our Leader who, for some reason best known to himself, reacted like an enraged bull and refused to solicit the opinions of other residents on our floor when asked to do so.  Somewhat scorched by his reaction, Pom-Pom and myself repaired to our rooms to write a letter to Perfect's head office.  This piece of correspondence was, of course, pleasantly worded pet, but left the intended recipients in no doubt whatsoever of the level of our suffering under the roof.  We then had the problem of who was going to deliver a copy of said epistle to Our Leader: Pom-Pom or myself.  Well, after some considerable debate, Yours Truly was finally nominated and off I trotted.  Well, Our Leader practically burst into flames himself when he read it and suddenly shouted - red as the proverbial pillar box ' 'I THINK YOU'LL FIND THAT PERFECT WILL TELL YOU, IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, YOU CAN MOVE OUT!'  I don't, myself, think that was the most professional of responses, do you dear?  I think I'lll save my thermometer story to next time pet, as even the recollection of this incident, seems to leave me prostrated!
Yours
Aunt Agatha

I think it was concreted into place . . .

Perfect Retirement Housing Complex

Inner Hamlet

CORSETTSHIRE  QY4 2PN

My Dear Ralph

Many thanks for your most interesting letter!  Can't you look after the child dear?  After all, if you can spend whole afternoons slumped in front of the television set, you may well benefit from a more socially responsible pastime.  (What did you say happened about your job with the Government pet?)  I hope you kept on taking your tablets as I suggested to you at the time.)  And, as for Dipper, where do you find these women dear!  Do, please, try to find someone more-or-less functional next time.

Meanwhile, I have spent the morning digging up a perennial clump (don't ask me what of) in my chum Marilyn's garden.  I think it was concreted into place dear, and I must say that 'Gardeners Life' made the whole process look much easier, and more elegant, than it turned out to be in practice.  I have laddered my stockings in several places and may also have spiked the turf with my heels!  I must say that the TV programme should have specified what type of saw to use for cutting the in situ clump into pieces, because the hacksaw I took along with me was hardly adequate for the purpose!  It took a very big saw, with very big teeth, one of which was luckily hanging up on a hook in Marilyn's garage, to slice it into pieces - and, even then, it practically took a winch to heave each piece out of the ground and into the wheelbarrow.  Never again pet, never again!

Poor Pom-Pom was summoned to Our Leader's office yesterday morning to answer the charge of having contacted the Council Refuse Department without permission!  When I came back from some outing away from the premises, the dear old thing was lying on the bed with a giant white hankie spread over his face, weeping.  While he had thought he was constructively applying his intelligence to solve the once-a-week-only collection of refuse problem, Our Leader had construed his activities as positive interference and as a threat to his authority.  He has been along here just now, ostensibly to check the lack of heat emanating from the radiators, but we think word of our authorial efforts may have leaked around the building!

Yours

Aunt Agatha

A huge pile of rumpled clothing on the bed . . .

Perfect Retirement Housing Complex

Inner Hamlet

CORSETTSHIRE  QY4 2PN

Technorati claim code: FE5224QEBX87

My Dear Ralph

Today I met William from Raptor-on-the-Lake!  It was most exciting pet, having to get all dressed up and exit from the building using some ruse about having to attend a church luncheon party.  Pom-Pom did raise an eyebrow as I may, in the past, have uttered one or two less-than-flattering remarks about local parochial events but, nevertheless, I believe I did sound sufficiently convincing in the end.  One snag, dear, was that I ended up with a huge pile of rumpled clothing on the bed, before being able to find anything which I could get into (it's the constant noshing on cake, in order to ameliorate boredom here in Perfect, which does it).  However, I eventually winched myself into my mauve crepe dress and associated footwear and hopped it in the car.
We had arranged to meet at the Pineapple on the edge of Outer Hamlet and so I drew up outside at the appointed hour.  There were a lot of black chickens running about the yard in this rural outpost, dear, as you can imagine.  William was there but - as it later emerged - he was expecting to meet a lady with flame-red hair and I was expecting to meet an indigenous Aborigine!  Obviously, this doesn't say much for the colour quality of photos displayed on the internet pet!
Anyway, after only a slight amount of mutual offence, we sat down to enjoy our repast of Caribbean chicken and sundry intoxicants.  We actually got on quite well after this knockback relating to each other's personal appearance and he was soon telling me about the diet fed to his pet American rattlesnake.  I, personally, do not feel that it is quite sporting to be lowering live mice into the tank, dear, because what possible chance does the poor mouse stand under such circumstances?  And I did say this!  He, on his part, asked me why I used such a large font size in my letters and said that he'd thought I could be blind.  Dear me pet!  He went on to say that he'd reciprocated by enlarging the font size he used in his own letters.  You know, pet, I never noticed!  Obviously, I am not sure I have too much in common with someone who was brought up in Hong Kong and wants to emigrate to Australia, but we will see!
Yours
Aunt Agatha

Secret Service: EPISODE 20

Perfect Retirement Housing Complex

Inner Hamlet

CORSETTSHIRE QY4 2PN

My Dear Ralph

Sleep did not come easily to me last night pet. I was up in the early hours patrolling the car park, in an attempt to assess the degree of darkness afflicting the parking spaces in the absence of operational security lighting.  Darkness prevailed dear, which is probably fortunate owing to the fact that I was outfitted in my Wyncyette nightie and a quantity of hair rollers.  I finally fell into bed, possibly crushing dear Chumley, until the alarm clock rang at 6.20am.  Of course, I had to catch the bus to Gothick Towers to collect the Banger 0.9L.  As I traipsed through Outer Hamlet in the mist, it did rather strike me how protected one's nether regions usually are inside the motor.  At least the Banger was still nestling up against the stonework and off I set for the college Tree course.
The scene at the college at 8.00am was distinctly deserted and the coffee lounge was shut!  I do think I might have to reconsider my attire for this day dear.  Comparing myself with all these other youthful types striding around in their lumberjack kit, it may not be altogether appropriate to arrive in a tight-fitting, above knee, tweed skirt and 30 denier stockings.  Anyway, today we considered the problem of how to measure a tree.  I am not at all sure I have understood the 'stick and shadow' method pet and the 'ruler and two persons' method seems equally abstruse.  Hopefully, I will never have to put this skill into practice and- if I do - maybe there will be some manly type around to assist me?
I must say I was not looking forward to approaching Our Leader on the topic of the car park security lighting and the absence of a theft procedure in the lounge ring binder.  In fact I could feel mounting trepidation, not to mention bodily trembling, set in as I approached the office in which he sat.  However, as often the way in life, he completely bowled me sidewards with his utter reasonableness and willingness to help.  I found myself thanking him for his support and saying that obviously I hoped that I could be supportive of him also.  It just goes to show pet, that sometimes a mutually human encounter can soothe both sides.
Yours
Aunt Agatha

Smithereens were all over the forecourt pet . . .

Perfect Retirement Housing Complex

Inner Hamlet

CORSETTSHIRE QY4 2PN

Ralph dear . . .

Calamity has overtaken me today at the Perfect Retirement Housing Complex.  I sallied forth from the the building this morning at 9am, only to discover that some bounder had smashed in one of my car rear windows!  Smithereens were all over the forecourt pet!  it seems that the glass was broken in with a brick, or some such heavy object, and the driver's door opened.  Luckily, dear, I have been using my brand new key fob to set the door alarms and it appears that said alarms went off when the door was opened.  I believe I did stand there gaping for one or two moments pet, but - mustering my best derring-do - I finally inserted my delectable self into the car to see whether the radio had been snatched as well.  What a relief dear!  It was still there.  Of course, I had to cancel my morning appointments and then spend the next 3 hours on the phone to the police, the insurance company, and Kwik-Glass.  Kwik-Glass proved unable to respond to my importunings for a mobile call-out unit to be despatched today.  They are coming tomorrow!   What on earth am I supposed to do with a gaping hole in the window, all night here at Perfect, with the security lights in the car park not working?  I know I have had my moments, in the past pet, bemoaning  the light glinting off telescopes in sundry sitting rooms on one's way in and out of the the building - but it really is too bad of so many inmates overlooking the car park, to be on holiday, in hospital, or deceased at the same time!  Anyway, it was then that I remembered Sebastian Seale MP.  You remember Sebastian dear?  He hails from Gothick Towers over in Outer Hamlet.  So I phoned him up (he actually sounded quite pleased to hear from me) and asked whether he might kindly let me park the Banger 0.9L in his driveway all night.  And he said 'yes', suggesting a position outside the side door and opposite his giant planting of some hundreds of metres of Cherry Laurel.  I then patched up the window with one or two metres of bubble wrap and drove right over.  I think I might have seen Sebastian walking the dogs near the shrubbery, but he was wearing a large floppy hat and seemed intent on returning to the West Wing with some degree of inconspicuousness.  I hope he wasn't avoiding me pet?
Back at Perfect, Mrs Brownie did inform me that Our Leader sustained a smaller misfortune recently, in the form of a breeze block placed upon the bonnet of his car.  What we need here at Perfect is a bazooka!!
Yours 
Aunt Agatha 

Chumley is piling on the biscuits

Perfect Retirement Housing Complex

Inner Hamlet

CORSETTSHIRE QY4 2PN

My Dear Ralph

Many thanks for your last missive, pet, which mentions the infection-control applications of a Tesco carrier bag.  I must say that I never knew that these items could make an effective dental dam!  Pom-Pom has been sniggering mightily at the graphic nature of your descriptions on this point.

Docker is a female acquaintance of some refinement from the first floor, dear.  I was merely referring to the power of her vocal cords!  Yes.  The days when I could attract men with the muscular equipment of a veritable Popeye certainly reverberate in the memory banks.  I must admit, pet, to a recent yen for similar such experiences before it is too late.  The 'males' here at the Perfect Retirement Housing Complex hardly fit the bill.  Please keep this strictly 'hush hush' but I have recently embarked upon a covert correspondence with William from Raptor-on-the-Lake.  He seems to have a positive penchant for speculation with stocks and shares and perhaps I will recover my lost fortune!  I must say, dear, that I am rather less enthusiastic about taking up hang-gliding at my age but: never say die.  I am a former operative after all!  Chumley may also benefit from some outdoor activities as he seems to be piling on the biscuits.  William has also mentioned his elderly Siamese cat, Bonsai, who was emitting a clearly audible screech down the telephone cable, and I am sure the two animals will soon be firm friends.  For God's sake pet, mention none of this to Pom-Pom!

I do faintly recall stuffing your father into a crate and despatching him to Brazil.  Now why did we do that pet?  It is some years ago and I can't remember if we drilled any air holes into the container!  Did he make it, alive that is?

Yours

Aunt Agatha

Winched out of the windows to the crematorium . . .

The Perfect Retirement Housing Complex

Inner Hamlet

CORSETTSHIRE  QY4 2PN

My Dear Ralph

Docker and I have just been on a sortie to Outer Hamlet in the motor.  Docker - who had descended to the front door via the lift - was snarling about the nosies in the lounge nearly all the way there!  Apparently, the Popette had asked her where she was going and she had replied, 'Timbuktu.'  I had, luckily, descended to the front door via the stairs and so had fortunately eluded all this pet.  When we returned, we discovered ourselves still to be in the direct eyeline of the Popette, who stared nastily.  I had to forcibly restrain Docker from making one or two trenchant remarks as we waited for the lift to inch down and collect us.  Still, at least it didn't break down with us in it dear.  Some months ago, I heard that someone had to have an oxygen mask lowered down to them via the trapdoor in the roof of said conveyance.  A number of the elderly seem frightened to get into it, and I have seen one or two in the stairwell with their Zimmer frames and bags of laundry.  On more than one occasion now, I have had to assist Mabel and her little dog with the semi-paralysed hindquarters.  It is certainly difficult for dogs with long bodies - traversing several steps - to ascend the many flights whilst so incapacitated .  Still no-one, as yet, has had to be winched out of the windows in order to reach the crematorium.  And this, really, is quite surprising given the quantities of doughnuts consumed every afternoon by inmates gossiping in the lounge.  Pom-Pom and I keep a dignified distance from the scuffle as you may imagine dear, although no-one is immune from the gaze of miscellaneous eyeballs - covering both exits - all of the time.

Yours

Aunt Agatha

Evacuation at night is greatly preferable . . .

Perfect Retirement Housing Complex

Inner Hamlet

CORSETTSHIRE  QY4 2PN

My Dear Ralph

I must say that I am feeling slightly more myself today pet.  I spent an excruciating night stretched out in a rictus of pain, toes curled up at the edges, but today I fancy the tooth might be deceased!  Apparently poor Dinkie (opposite) was evacuated in the night by ambulance transport.  Evacuation at night is greatly preferable to evacuation by day, dear, owing to the pressure to wave and smile - whilst cut down by a stroke or heart attack - to the ensemble of inmates gathered in the lounge to wave you off to No Return District Hospital, some 15 miles away.
I think we might have spotted the new employee from my vantage point at the apex of the building.  She was stubbing a fag end out on an outside drain and I fancy her hair was dyed a bright magenta pink!  What do these signs portend pet?
Meanwhile, on the Tree course, we spent a considerable portion of the day counting acorns under a 10% sector of oak tree.  I am absolutely no good at this kind of thing dear; quite apart from the fact that my talent for elementary mathematics is virtually zero, I also find myself continually pining for my next cup of coffee.  Do you know, we found thousands of these acorns, some of which seemed to be attached to frightful-looking execrations called 'galls.'  I must say that I haven't quite worked out exactly what a gall is.  I don't think we were too successful in scraping all the fruits from off of the turf; they seemed quite ground in by the thousands of students' boots which had walked over them in recent weeks.
Meanwhile, my chum Guthrie seems to be recovering from his my-kitchen-related episode of dysentery - and is proposing to visit my abode again!  You will be pleased to hear, pet, that I have excelled myself in my efforts on the hygiene and cleanliness front over the weekend.  One's shoes no longer stick to the kitchen linoleum and drip marks have quite vanished from the fronts of the kitchen cupboards! 
I just hope I can keep up this high level of enthusiasm, because I still have the oven and kitchen bin to go!
Have you any news dear?  I fancy when things go quiet that there is Something Going On!
Yours
Aunt Agatha

Secret Service: EPISODE 15

Perfect Retirement Housing Complex

Inner Hamlet

CORSETTSHIRE  QY4 2PN

Pet . . .

I think the Inner Hamlet NHS dentist may have poured neat Hydrochloric acid down into the centre of my tooth.  Words like 'agony' and 'pain' are not nearly adequate to describe the extremity of the situation.  Having concluded that the tooth was affected by an 'inflammation of the pulp cavity' the practitioner gave me three injections with a view to carrying out root canal treatment.  None of these worked pet!  Although my cheek and lower lip went numb, the tooth itself was untouched.  The merest touch of the drill bit caused the equivalent of mega Joules of electricity to zap through my skull and it was impossible to go on with it.  Finally, he decided to administer "poison" to kill the pulp cavity, and to seal up the wound, prior to sending me home with assurances that the pain would ease up with every passing hour.  NOTHING in my LIFE so far has prepared me for the body-stopping effects of the giant waves of agony (isn't there a better word pet?) coursing up through my jaw and neck and into my skull on the way to the car.  I sat there for about 5 minutes, unable to achieve enough motive force to turn the engine on, never mind exit the car park.  The journey home is a blur.  All I can recall is a sort of paralysed slowness of action and extreme deliberation of any turn of the steering wheel.  I was a sorry sight indeed when I finally crawled back in through the door of the Perfect Housing Retirement Complex.  I have only been able to communicate in writing with poor Pom-Pom, who has collected the remainder of a box of Nurofen from my fruit bowl, to no avail.  All I can do is utter a pathetic whimper every 10 minutes or so, and pray for death.
Auntie

Prospective move to Nether Hoppit

Perfect Retirement Housing Complex

Inner Hamlet

CORSETTSHIRE QY4 2PN

My Dear Ralph

Pom-Pom and I were visited today by the Chevalier Housing Association, with the aim of assessing our suitability for 'supported accommodation' out at Nether Hoppit.  I must say that it was most amusing when the two housing support workers emerged from the lift and recoiled at the sight of the lurid Lime paintwork coating all our doors!  I feigned not to notice of course pet, as I saw two sets of eyebrows rise and heard suppressed sniggering on their part.  Have I ever told you the story of how this paintwork came about dear?
One naturally expects, in a democratic institution of this type, to be consulted in matters of particular significance, i.e. the colour paint to be applied to 56 front doors.  But, instead of a 'formal invitation to consult' appearing on the notice board - together with a request for members of each floor to convene to choose a colour - Our Leader simply went ahead and selected colours in association with assorted passers by and general cronies, who just happened to be in the vicinity when he was leafing through the paint book.  As luck would have it, I happened to be strolling along the corridors when the painters were applying this Lime to the first door.  The men called out to me, 'Have you seen the paint love?  What do you think of it?'  Of course, I was aghast and had this frightful vision of us all lit up like a scene from Jack in the Beanstalk in here.  Have I mentioned the colours of the walls and carpets to you pet?  Well the walls are turquoise and the carpet is a sort of dirty mid-pink.  So you can imagine how all these shades combine!  Pom-Pom and I, of course, made one of our rare attempts to object (always a mistake).  We called upon Our Deputy and Mrs Brownie, who were doing something or other in an adjacent flat and asked them if they'd seen the paintwork.  No, they hadn't and so we all gathered in a deathly silence around this door.  After somewhat of a pause, Mrs Brownie suggested calling Our Leader - who was prostrated with a management-style-related malaise in his flat.  So up came Our Leader and he pronounced that he quite liked it!  He did ask Our Deputy and Mrs Brownie what they thought, but they seemed to think it wisest to keep schtum.  At this point pet, I suggested that they consult the opinions of a couple of inmates on our floor; I said that I would simply call them to look, but not influence their opinion in any way.  Our Leader did agree to this step.  The first person I found in was Dinkie (aged 93) who, twice that week, had expressed a strong preference for the colour white.  Poor Dinkie showed up and said, 'Oh dear,' at which Our Leader slung a chummy arm around her diminutive shoulder.  Dinkie responded to this by looking up and saying meekly, 'Well I suppose we shall have to get used to it.'  The next resident to bustle along the hall to take a look, was Gertie.  Gertie sprang back from the colour with a shriek of horror and cries of 'Oh no'!  We all looked at the Management, who decided to go off together and confer.  And the net conclusion of all this was that the painters continued down the corridor and painted all our doors the most frightful hue you ever did see.  Even the representative from Perfect muttered, some months later, that Perfect usually does such a good job of the internal decor.  I saw Our Leader flinch, as well he might dear.
Anyway, the representatives from Chevalier seem very pleased with us.  I think they had ample opportunity to assess the cramped conditions in which we are attempting to live, and were also able to personally experience the extreme heat sweltering inwards from the flat roof directly above us (more about the roof later dear).  Of course, given that neither of us is actually paralysed, they may prefer to give their 'fully adapted for the disabled' dwelling to another candidate.  We will have to wait and see!
Yours
Aunt Agatha

Sometimes one's compatriots are not quite all there!

Perfect Retirement Housing Complex

Inner Hamlet

CORSETTSHIRE  QY4 2PN

My Dear Ralph

Pom-Pom and I have just pootled off to Economy Fare for the week's cache of edible goods.  We have had to go earlier than planned owing to tomorrow's booking, by Our Leader, of the Fan Man who will be attending all 56 flats to check the bathroom fans.  Personally, I have always found this item rather a bother, blowing - as it does - large quantities of dust into the interior of the building from the outside.  I am also not keen on its decibel output, as it makes it a trifle difficult to attend to one's TV programmes whilst simultaneously on the pot.  However, we have not yet had this year's check of the emergency cords which, in our case, are tied up neatly out of reach, on sundry walls . . . What a pest having to untether them in time for the inspection!
Chumley and Meribel (our pussies) have enjoyed this week's treat of king prawns from Economy Fare, and Pom-Pom and I are about to get stuck into the gin and nuts procured from the same outlet.  Indeed, pet, we might have had one or two nips earlier, so we must count our blessings for our safe return and for not having got wrapped round a bollard whilst on the outskirts of Outer Hamlet.
Meanwhile, I have had a visitation from my new chum, Guthrie, who hails from Salty-on-the-Sea, some 70 miles distant.  Delightful - for the most part - though this encounter was, I am still somewhat stung by pronouncements made on the subject of the cleanliness (or not) of my kitchen bowl, kitchen sink, plastic drainer, and the plastic pot in which nestles sundry cleaning cloths and scourers.  I am aware, pet, that these items were somewhat on the grungy side, but retired operatives - not to mention 'authors' - do tend to have activities which take priority over more mundane pursuits.  Given a choice between clean and boring or dirty and interesting, I certainly know which I myself prefer - and it is not the former!
I am pleased to hear your leafletting expedition went well, but am slightly perturbed to hear about your rather bizarre companions.  It is all very well, dear, being involved in politically correct activities, but sometimes one's compatriots are not quite all there.  Remember all my years as an operative, pet; I know whereof I speak!
Yours
Aunt Agatha

P.S.  You haven't been leaving any of my despatches lying around have you pet?  When I typed my professional code into my PC, I noticed that the tract of land associated with my own activities was rather large - indeed had turned DARK green - and was blossoming across the territories occupied by the former USSR!  This did cause me to wonder if my rather eclectic musings may have brought themselves - via the MI6 tag - the attention of the FSB (Moscow) and GCHQ (Cheltenham, UK)?  I do hope that said individuals - secreted behind the curtain so-to-speak - realize that my memoirs are based on my own, personal, experiences and that I have rarely, ever, ventured beyond Inner Hamlet, never mind London or further East!  Remember now dear.  My eccentricities are for your delectation only! 

Juicy snippets of one kind and another

Perfect Retirement Housing Complex

Inner Hamlet

CORSETTSHIRE  QY4 2PN

My Dear Ralph

I'm afraid that juicy snippets of one kind and another are somewhat limited today pet.  I can only report that Child, who lives opposite Pom-Pom, seems to be limping about the hallways with a black eye and broken arm.  She has told us that she was raped by a bouncer during one of her nocturnal excursions to somewhere exciting!  I don't know whether the Perfect Retirement Housing Complex will shortly be featuring on the local news but, apparently, there is going to be a court case.  Meanwhile, Cat Woman is stomping about scowling but fully dressed.  Apparently she sailed through the lounge during 'coffee morning' the other day, clad in only her nightwear, and there was somewhat of a hue and cry.
Toothache is raging again dear, and it looks like I am going to have to resort to having one of my few remaining teeth amputated!  Life is certainly cruel and I am not looking forward to a diet of gruel and stewed apple for my (few) remaining years.  Meanwhile, I am fast becoming a Nurofen junkie and have been impressed by the speed at which this medication seems to eradicate pain.  However will I be able to bear 'Life' without it?
How are you pet?  Unlike Yours Truly, you maintain a magnificent silence in the face of adversity/ravishment by secret pleasures!  Now which is it dear?
Yours
Aunt Agatha 

The appropriate safe usage of a chain saw

Perfect Retirement Housing Complex

Inner Hamlet

CORSETTSHIRE  QY4 2PN

My Dear Ralph

Many thanks for your epistle pet.  I'm sorry if I was a little indiscreet with regard to your job with the Government.

You won't believe how wonderful it is dear, to be able to jump into the Banger 0.9L and drive off immediately, without spending an aeon dripping in the rain pressing non-operational buttons.  However, having attended my course yesterday, I think I may have signed up for the wrong one!  I seem to be on a Tree Pruner course when I wanted to be on a Tree Recognition course (vanity over the wearing of my spectacles may just have resulted in a misreading of the small print)!  You'd think that the college might have hinted that a retired lady of my distinction would be unlikely to land a plum job with the local council as Tree Pruner!  Sometimes pet, I think this 'political correctness' attitude to modern life may have been taken a bit too far.  Anyway, we have all been kitted out with our tree harnesses and given instruction on the appropriate safe usage of a chain saw!  At least it is a day spent away from the Perfect Retirement Housing Complex!

I have been giving a few thoughts, recently, on how this establishment has got into such a sorry state.  And I blame the Government!  Until they make it illegal for organizations such as Perfect to pay low wages to improperly selected staff, we are going to be up against personnel of minimal calibre!  I must say dear, that it is very wearing for one's genuine concerns to be - so often - treated with an attitude of aggressive contempt.  One learns not to have any ideas/make any suggestions, for these tend to be resentfully received, with the net result that the Perfect Retirement Housing Complex remains lost in the Dark Ages.  When I stop to think about it, I can think of an unending list of matters which could be profitably attended to - if only we had the right person at the helm.  After all, most people lodged at Perfect are not in brilliant physical/mental shape and we do need to feel that we are in the best of hands.

Well I must go dear.  I am feeling somewhat under the weather since yesterday's experience of being suspended from the apex of a rather large tree!

Yours

Aunt Agatha

Secret Service: EPISODE 10

The Perfect Retirement Complex

Inner Hamlet

CORSETTSHIRE  QY4 2PN

My Dear Ralph

What a day I've had pet!  After it took seven attempts this morning to turn the car immobilizer light off with my key fob, I thought I'd better whiz off to Swish Motor Company to get a new one coded up.   Of course, I drive the most frightful old heap and, looking around me at Swish, I must say it came home to me how far down I had sunk in the general pecking order of Life!  Not to mention my 'struck by lightning' hairdo and the 'dressed by Oxfam' clothing ensemble!  Anyway, after a bit of a debate on whether they had any remote key fobs in stock, they finally said they could proceed if I would like to wait.  The waiting room was quite delightful, with a fine view over their magnificent forecourt, and I settled down to read sundry articles from the glossies left for our perusal.  I must say that titles such as, 'How to Make a Success of Your Life' left one a bit despondent - particularly at the age of 62 - but, all in all, I felt 'success' to be practically rubbing off on me from the various suit-wearers all waiting for the work on their vehicle to be completed.
Anyway, I was eventually called and, having had £110!! practically dragged from my clothing, was given my key ring plus fob and the spare fob was returned.  Having been earlier informed that the Banger 0.9L is the only car in existence where it is impossible to override the engine immobilizer - or to detach it from the engine altogether - I was naturally anxious to establish that the new fob would work.  So I rushed off to see if it would.  No such luck dear!  The situation was exactly the same - eight attempts to turn the light off - before I could finally turn the engine on.  Well I can't begin to tell you how my heart sank!  I drove off to Outer Hamlet to give the matter some quiet thought in the church yard - dispiritedly clicking the useless buttons - before accepting that I would have to drive back to Swish.  Back at Swish, I was told that 'my man' had gone off on an an extended test drive of some other car, and might be gone for some while . . .  Gloomily rummaging in my bag for some sedatives or preferably a loaded pistol to do myself in with, I came across the 'spare' key fob that I had carelessly chucked into my bag upon receipt of the new item.  Turning this loose fob over in my hand, I found my eye resting  upon a brand new sticker with the engine code printed brightly upon it!  Guess what pet?  I had been using the old fob - still attached to the key ring - to get into the car!  Remarking to the young man on the other side of the desk that I might have made a slight miscalculation regarding which fob to use, I sloped off back to the car.  It worked pet, it worked!!
Pom-Pom sends his regards by the way and is asking for further news of your infiltration of the political group you mentioned the other day.  They all sound like a frightful shower I must say.  I hope you will be able to report back to your superiors in the Government?
Yours
Aunt Agatha

Removing a stiffening corpse . . .

Perfect Retirement Housing Complex

Inner Hamlet

CORSETTSHIRE  QY4 2PN

My Dear Ralph

Well Pom-Pom and I have been sitting here chewing the cud and generally studying the type of rainfall sluicing down outside.  We think that this type of heavy rain might have a high potential for eroding loose soil on slopes.  However, no slopes are visible from our armchairs, or only those sliding towards the valley of general despond.

Pom-Pom seems to have perked up slightly from yesterday's voyage down into the trough of despair.  There has been no more mention of the possibility of a suicide note being tacked to the outside of his front door in the early hours.  Should such a note appear, I have been adjured NOT TO ENTER and simply to fetch Our Leader.  We did briefly wonder how they would remove a stiffening corpse from a block of flats in daylight hours.  Any ideas pet?  Even should a Z-shaped ambulance chair be employed - and said corpse wedged into the lift - it would still have to emerge past a lounge full of gaping inmates eager to pass on the most unsavoury of details at every opportunity!  And anyway, as I pointed out to poor Pom-Pom, the first 'person' to read the note (before anyone else had a chance to get to it) would doubtless be Snake in the Grass - who is furtively sneaking along the passageways before anyone else is up!
Pom-Pom was also most dispiriting on the subject of his carnivorous relative - Xanthe - who would apparently take the greatest delight in excluding Yours Truly from the scene at the earliest possible moment, in addition to making insinuations of the most scurrilous kind about the motives underlying my relationship with Pom-Pom.  I must say that picturing this scene, fills me with feelings of the utmost dread and foreboding.  You will make arrangements for my earliest evacuation to the Outer Hebrides should any of this come to pass, won't you dear?
Yours
Aunt Agatha

The lock clicked open gently

Perfect Retirement Housing Complex

Inner Hamlet

CORSETTSHIRE  QY4 2PN

My Dear Ralph

Apologies for the epistle-writing spree pet.  However, I would like to relay one or two thoughts on the subject of building design here at the Perfect Retirement Housing Complex.  Docker and I have just arrived 'home' from our weekly shop at Economy Fare.  And I must say dear, that very little thought has been given to exactly how we are to gain entry to the building with our elderly persons' shopping trolleys.  One has the electronic key of course, which causes the actual lock to click open gently, but then one somehow has to get in!  Once in, one is greeted by the sight of two rows of snouts (in the lounge) all leaning forwards to see who exactly has grunted their way through the doors.
One appreciates that these inmates have very little with which to occupy their days, but it can be all too depressing to be the daily object of others' curiosity.  Unfortunately, Our Leader is markedly uninterested - indeed often hostile towards - any constructive suggestions along the lines of automatic doors/redesign of sight lines in the direction of privacy, and so it all goes on!
And as for occupying those inmates insufficiently mobile to escape to the bus stop, I think it would help if some sort of dedicated activity/hobby room was provided - as well as procuring a part-time person to lead activities.  When people have nothing to do, all day long, it leads to the sort of corrosive gossiping and voyeurism described above!  The elderly may be retired from work, but they should not feel retired from Life!
Sorry to be such an old grump pet, but one does feel in the clutches somewhat.  If only Pom-Pom hadn't spent all our assets on the horses!
Yours
Aunt Agatha

Furtive speculation and subsequent inaction

Perfect Retirement Housing Complex

Inner Hamlet

CORSETTSHIRE  QY4 2PN

My Dear Ralph

I hope I find you refreshed from your week in Odessa?  Hopefully you will inspire me with tales of your Secret Service!
Life staggers on here in the Perfect Retirement Housing Complex.  The other day, I just happened to notice - while turning every page in the procedures ring binder (kept in the lounge) that Perfect has no procedure whatsoever, for what to do in the event of petty thefts from the communal areas.  Obviously no theft of any description occurs in Perfect establishments!  We are in the hands of the Staff, whose premier instincts seem to lean towards furtive speculation and subsequent inaction.  The police are never summoned.  In my previous epistle, I seem to recall mentioning the 'Thieves' poster which had been displayed on the lift doors on our floor.  It turned out that, because it had been printed out from a PC, Our Deputy had surmised that it must have been produced by by one of the computer-owning inmates on our floor.  So that would narrow it down to Yours Truly, Pom-Pom, and Boyo.  I somewhat tersely pointed out that it was an old poster which had been produced by Our Leader (currently elsewhere on his hols).  At this point, Mrs Brownie hot-footed it down to the office to inform Our Deputy that their surmises up to this juncture had been erroneous and ill-judged.  She came back and said that she'd been concerned that a rumour might have been spreading across the inmates in the lounge that Someone with a Computer had been responsible!  Some people are certainly more than happy always to think the worst of you, aren't they pet?
Meanwhile, Cat Woman has tried to return to my good graces with an offer of two cooking apples for stewing.  'What!' I said, 'Not after requiring donations for the two tins of salmon!'
Well, must rush off to the bus stop pet.  More later!
Yours
Aunt Agatha

Your key won't work because I live here!

Perfect Retirement Housing Complex

Inner Hamlet

CORSETTSHIRE  QY4 2PN

My Dear Ralph

Well events gallop on pet!  Since I wrote, this Cat Woman inmate has displayed a poster behind the glass panel of her door, which says 'Your key won't work because I live here . . .'  Much mystification, but this appears to allude to a suspicion on her part that person or persons unknown have been attempting illicit entry to her flat.  She has refused to speak to me since the tins of salmon incident!

The situation worsened this morning with the appearance of a large, laminated, poster on the lift doors, 'Watch out!  There's a thief about!'  Tripping along to Pom-Pom's this morning, I stopped to examine the offending item and noticed that it was a poster prepared by Our Leader subsequent to the burglary incident some while ago.  I don't know whether I told you about this dear but, after some inmates' experience of burglars traipsing through their rooms in the middle of the night, security lighting was installed on the building's rear walls.  And now, the poster drawn up to alert inmates to the possible ingress of thieves, has materialized up here!

The atmosphere in the corridors, this morning, has been one of suspicion and general menace.  The Dillies (occupying three flats on this floor) are all convinced that some fleet-of-foot individual is running around at night, ringing doorbells, and generally activating the building's movement-sensitive lighting.  Am I fleet of foot pet?  I think I might be more than most!

Yours

Aunt Agatha