Thank God it’s only once a year!

MOTHER’S Day has come and gone but the wounds have yet to heal.

My wife made it plain from the start that this was her day, so that comfortably left me to deal with the washing up.

This involves an operation marginally less strenuous than the cleaning of the Augean Stables although it smells a lot better.

Inevitably a few unexpected splashes reduced my shirt to a clammy sponge, but I stuck to my task and finished it all. Madame was still in bed.

Then it was son’s turn to do his bit and cook Sunday lunch, transforming the kitchen from the clean clear area I left it as into a steam-filled hell laced with naughty language, something about how difficult could it be to peel a potato. Madame was still in bed.

Worse followed as the ceremonial wake-up “Happy Mother’s Day” cup of tea was prepared with the same pomp reserved for coronations at Westminster Abbey although my wife’s role as monarch was slightly spoilt by what sounded suspiciously like snoring.

At least it served to wake her and later allow a regal descent into the sitting room where cards from son and daughter were duly opened and admired before son hastily excused himself and returned to the kitchen, muttering something about thanking God it was only one day a year.

Dinner proved a triumph for son with fulsome praise from his mother, but a much needed slump into an armchair was rudely interrupted by wife brightly alerting everyone that we had to put coats on because it was time for afternoon tea.

Fortunately it was only just below zero outside garnished with a nice steady rain, practically perfect weather to go out in... which we had to. After all, it was Mother’s Day.

Eventually we returned to open presents, wife saying what she got was just what she wanted. What I wanted was a shot at Father’s Day so I could get my own back. Yeah, like that’s going to happen.

Council still in need of a carrier pigeon

OTHER things are inevitable apart from death and taxes and one of them is that the council always seems to court embarrassment.

This column has only just highlighted the fact that Mayor Councillor Margaret Leicester’s council computer was so badly maintained that she couldn’t communicate with anyone or do the simplest of research.

Now it has emerged that, spurred on by her desperation and my sarcasm, the council’s computer maintenance people have tackled repairs with all the success of an ant trying to assassinate an elephant.

The result of their efforts initially delighted Mrs Leicester who was overjoyed to once more be able to send and receive emails and to check up on key issues affecting her political life.

Sadly – and you could almost see this coming over the hill – her joy lasted precisely ten minutes before her computer shut her out again.

So I repeat an earlier appeal and ask, is there anyone who could lend Mrs Leicester a carrier pigeon... and also perhaps a manual on computer repairs. It looks as if she is going to need it.

Who would want to be a piano tuner?

VERY few events have to cope with a surfeit of powdered egg white but the recent Weymouth Music Festival was one of them.

Nearly 300 people took part and among them were a number of pianists keen to show off their skills on a gleaming Yamaha piano.

Therein hangs a tale because the piano was only gleaming thanks to a huge effort by piano tuner Dave Chitson who found himself having to clean a residue of egg white custard pies off from the main surfaces where they’d settled during an enthusiastic performances of the musical Bugsy Malone which had been held a few days earlier.

But if you thought this had stretched his talents then you’d be wrong because that honour goes to an event some time ago when celebrated singer, pianist and personality Myleene Klass appeared in concert at Weymouth Football Club.

Dave said: “The piano she was to use arrived the day before and it was stored overnight... upside down in a van! Try tuning that!

“It was filthy, it took me four hours to clean and tune it and things were cut so fine that the orchestra was actually rehearsing around me while I was still working!”

It will warm up soon, won’t it?

WEYMOUTH had one of its rare snow moments recently and it took a bit of getting used to when the curtains were drawn back to reveal snowflakes tumbling out of the sky.

What made this brief fall unusual were strong winds which whipped lying snow off roofs to blast it about in sheets like some sort of moveable white wall.

We didn’t get much – Weymouth never does – but everything slowed down with traffic on main roads taking it much more carefully than usual and cars on side roads where more snow was lying taking it very gingerly. 

Still, soon be summer won’t it?

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