Sunday

Rosey has a thorny problem

A few of us were in the local Chinese the other night. My friend Rosey was pulling a funny face and rubbing her arm. Nobody took much notice; she’s known for pulling funny faces. Then she started making a strange moaning sound. Jenny looked at her, pulled a quizzical expression then looked away again. Clearly not getting the reaction she wanted and craving sympathy, Rosey suddenly shouted “Ouch”.
        John was the first to give in. “What’s up Rosey, you in pain 'ole luv?”
      “Oh nothing” she said with a dramatic sweep of her head.”Don’t worry about me”.
     “Tell us Rosey” said Jenny with an exasperated look on her face.
    "Well" said Rosey “If you must know I tripped over down at my allotment. I was waving to Jim a few plots down and not looking where I was going. I felt a bit of a prick and.........”
      “Enough of the crude language Rosey, that’s not like you!” said a stunned John who then started laughing.
       “If you’ll just let me finish John” she continued “I felt a prick in my arm because I’d fallen into my prize winning Rockwall Sesquicentennial Pioneer Shrub Rose, and one of its thorns stabbed me right here... just like this John”  She suddenly poked him hard in the ribs with her finger instantly wiping the grin from his face.
      “Don’t be such a thorn in my side” he said. He turned to me. “‘A thorn in my side, get it, get it” I  slowly nodded. Back came the grin. “Anyway with a name like Rosey you should be used to thorns!”
      “What’s in a name? That which we call a Rosey by any other name would smell as sweet. That’s from Rosey-o and Juliet!” she chuckled.
      “The way of the sluggard is blocked with thorns, but the path of the upright is a highway” uttered Holy Jo. We call him that because he’s always got a quote from the Bible to hand. “Proverbs 15 verse 19, the New International Version” he continued. He then wandered back into his own thoughts.
      “Roses are red, violets are blue, most poems rhyme, but this one doesn't” piped up Simon who had been quietly observing up to that point.
      “He who wants the Rosey must respect the thorn. That’s a Persian proverb” said Rosey. “For I am a Rosey among thorns” she said pointing to us one at a time. She remembered her wounded arm started rubbing it again. “I need a glass of Chardonnay to ease the pain. Your round John”

Rosey steals the show...again!

      You may remember a couple of years ago I told you about My Friend Rosey taking part in her school’s nativity play. Although adults do not normally appear in the Eastbourne C of E Primary School production, the mini-thespians of Year 2 threatened strike action if their teaching assistant Miss Rosey Pinkerton did not join them on stage. And so it was she got the role of Principal Tree, mainly because of her height as she made the other palms look like ‘pups’(that she assures me is the correct term for baby palm trees) Well, despite her chaotic performance from which she still bears the  scars (literally) history repeated itself this year when her fan club insisted she take part again, this time as one of the Three Wise People; political correctness now prevents them being referred to as Wise Men!

      The big day arrived, last Monday actually. All was going pretty well. It was quite a strident production. The holy night was anything but silent with traditional carols interspersed with reverential rapping and enthusiastic clapping. But the highlight was Rosey’s arrival on the scene, mainly because she came on for Act Two far too soon and totally alone having left the other two tea-towel-clad wise folk in the wings along with Mary, Joseph and farm animals various. The Star in the East who had stayed on stage during the interval started making hissing noises hoping to attract Rosey's attention but to no avail. The headmaster in his role as prompter let out an audible sigh as the audience started laughing. Rosey just peered blankly outwards for a few silent moments then broke into a smile. She took a bow, and then still staring at her audience, started shuffling off stage to a round of applause just as a big bell was heard to chime and the other cast members trooped on. The second sheep had somewhat restricted vision thanks to his costume and head butted Rosey in the tummy causing her to double up and bang  her head on the manger.  Then, right beside the sound effects microphone she emitted an involuntary mild expletive followed by a rasping belch thanks to having recently ingested a couple of extremely rich mince pies backstage. The headmaster went pale.

      Anyway, after a bit of shuffling re-positioning and organising the play took off again with a straight faced Rosey performing her part with a degree of gravitas never before seen. The play was of course a triumph and enjoyed as much for the bits that went astray as for those which stayed on track. Rosey got a standing ovation during which the Third Angel from the Left presented her with a bunch of flowers on behalf of her appreciative class. Even the headmaster shook her hand when he came on to make his boring annual speech.

      I suspect she’ll appear again next year. After all, it wouldn't be nearly as much fun without her would it?

     

Rosey tries to give up booze

The other day my friend Rosey contacted several of us regarding a summit (her word) she wished to arrange at which she hoped we would all agree to join her in a ‘dry January’. I asked where the meeting was to take place and she told me it would be at the Bicycle Arms, our local pub. I found this choice of venue somewhat ironic considering we were to discuss having a break from consuming alcohol, but as she correctly pointed out, they do sell soft drinks and alcohol free beer too.

We duly met up yesterday evening, six of us in all. Rosey said she wanted us all to stay completely sober for the rest of the month in order to  a) lose weight,  b) save a bit of money and   c) give the liver a rest. I, and several others I suspect, agreed to join in her campaign whist crossing our fingers behind our backs! And we got off to a pretty good start; for our first round we ordered fruit juices various and cokes. After a couple of bland rounds the conversation went from dull to boring to stop. I for one couldn’t wait to get home where my bottle of very special old malt was wondering where I’d got to!

Anyway, Rosey volunteered to get the third round in, and she wandered up to bar with that faraway look on her face which she always adopts when she’s plotting something.  I gave her a minute or so, then walked to the bar and offered to help with bringing the drinks back to the table; and of course, see what she was up to.  My suspicions were well founded. Just as I joined her I saw Barry the Barman pop a large measure of vodka into her coke!

And so it was her well intentioned scheme came to a halt. We all agreed it was a non starter. We spent the rest of the evening brainstorming other possible resolutions which went from stupid and funny to hilarious. We ended up agreeing to   a) lose weight by walking to the pub  b) save money by not paying for a cab to and from the pub and  c) give liver a rest by not eating pâté for a month.

Thursday

Rosey the poet

My friend Rosey is a creature of habit. She has little habits, big habits, funny habits and irritating habits! The only habit she doesn’t have is a nun’s habit! For instance, she has a habit of discreetly burping after eating spicy food. And that is always followed by another habit; she always says ‘Pardon me for being rude; it was not me it was my food’. Recently she was meeting her mate Jodie for an Indian meal. Apparently after a particularly hot curry she released a squeak from a different area! And according to Jodie, an impish smile crept across Rosey’s face and she said ‘Pardon me for passing wind; it was not me it was my vind…..aloo’! 
      She does like to treat us to silly rhymes. For instance, ‘Rabbits mate and pigeons flutter, cows like grass and bread likes butter’. And ‘North south east and west, but for me the south is best’. She often rhymes unintentionally. For instance, she recently saw me after I’d been to the dentist and said ‘Hi Keith, how’s your teeth?’ I couldn't help but laugh!
     Last Friday several of us met for our weekly get together at the Bicycle Arms and I asked Rosey, tongue in cheek if she’d ever considered publishing any of her poems and she took the wind out my sails when she said she already had! Apparently she entered a competition a few years ago and came in the top ten and the winners had their efforts printed in a book. I had no idea. We all started muttering among ourselves about our own literary efforts and we suddenly realised that Rosey was quietly reciting her poem.
      Silence!
      'Summer sunshine rides the breeze
       as sunrays weave their way through trees
      A dappled carpet paints the ground
      With shades of gold and green and brown
       and …..’
     Realising all ears were on her, she suddenly stopped, got up and walked outside. Helen followed her. A couple of minutes later they retuned. Rosey was looking down at the floor. I have no idea what happened. The poem clearly meant something to her that she’s keeping to herself. The look on her face told us that it was time to change the subject.’
      ‘I need to do a survey for work and I’m a bit stuck as to how to go about it’ chirped Helen. ‘It’s a sort of report and I thought that I ought…’
       With that Rosey started giggling. ‘Hey, you’re a poet and you didn’t know it!’ she said. The Rosey we know and love was back!

Holy moley Rosey!

You may recall that my friend Rosey and I share the same birthday; a couple of days ago in fact. Well I was speaking to her a few minutes ago and when I asked her what she did on our big day, she told me she decided to create a bucket list. I asked her what she put on it and she said that only made the decision to do it, and that she hadn't actually done it because she can’t think what to put on it! “Apart from one thing” she said. As no further information was forthcoming I ventured to ask what the ‘thing’ was and she said “Buy a bucket”. So I asked her why she wanted a bucket and she said it was to put her list in. I pointed out that it was only called a bucket list because…then I stopped because it occurred to me that I didn't have a clue!
      So I went on to ask her why she needed buy a new bucket when she’s got a perfectly good one down at her allotment.
      “Two reason” she said. “Firstly there’s a hole in my bucket”.
      “Dear Liza dear Liza” I sang out, and I got one her quizzical looks in response.
      “Yes” she said “I've got a hole in my shed roof too and put my bucket on the floor to catch the drips and when I went back the next day the bucket was empty and the floor was wet. That’s how I know I've got a hole in my bucket”.
      “Dear Liza dear……” I started. She stopped me in my tracks. “You've got a whole lot of holes going on” I said.
     She seemed to ignore my remark and went on to tell me that she wanted a bucket with pink roses on it. I asked why and she said “Duh”. Clearly I was missing something.  “Pink roses. Rosey Pinkerton. Get it?”
      “Got it”
      “Good”
     “About the list” I said.” Have you got any ideas?”
      She said she would quite like to learn golf.
    “And get a hole in one!” I quipped making a reference to our earlier discussion. She said she would like to dress as a man for a day and go to a gent’s loo!
     “And maybe one day go into space” she said.
     “Just be careful you don’t fly into a black hole!” I said. My remark got the silent treatment so I put on my serious face and suggested that a few of us should  meet up at The Bicycle Arms for a  brainstorming session and that’s what we’ll probably do next weekend.
      Suddenly she remembered a joke about a hole. As I've told you before, when she tells a joke she often doesn't understand it herself which makes it all the funnier for the assembled audience. This one however she seems to have got as she giggled all the way through it. She said “A man walked past a hole in a wall. He heard a voice going ‘Eight eight eight….’ He looked through the hole to see where the voice was coming from and got a poke in the eye. ‘Nine nine nine…’said the voice.

Say a prayer for Rosey!

      I saw my friend Rosey last Sunday. She told me she thought she’d picked up a disease of the feet!      “Look” she said as she slipped off her Crocs. “I've got lots of big brown spots”.
      I pointed out that the big brown spots formed perfect patterns and they bore a remarkable similarity to the circular cutouts on her Crocs. Then it dawned on her. “Sun tan?” she said.
     “Yep” said I.
      The reason I met her was to take her to church. I’m not a great churchgoer myself, but Rosey hasn't been for years, apart from when she has been with the children from her school for their carol services and things. I can’t remember if I told you, but the school where she works as a classroom assistant is a church run school. Normally to get a job there you need to be a regular at St Peters or another local church. Rosey is not! But Rosey’s parents are. They are pillars of the community and go to the church every Sunday. They also raise funds and are greatly valued by the Reverend ‘lets-pray’ Lester. Need I say more?
      Well, this week she has to take a group of kids to communion as part of their RE studies. Normally this is the duty of head teacher Miss Grossman but she is indisposed. Rosey was worried that she wouldn't remember what to do, so I said I’d take her for a dummy run so to speak. Incidentally she got into a bit of trouble with Miss G after she told the kids during assembly she was taking them 'God bothering'!
      Anyway, apart from sitting when others stood, and standing when other sat she did pretty well. At one point she nudged me in the ribs and pointed out on the service sheet that gluten free communion bread was available which for some reason tickled her. She then put her hand to her mouth and asked me in a hushed whisper what ‘Sanctified’ wine was; was it like Sancerre? I think she was joking but with Rosey you can never be sure. My biggest fear was that when we went forward to receive communion she would ask if they had any chardonnay! Happily she didn't.
      Well, we got through it and as I write this she is at St Peters with her charges. I’ll call her later and see how it went.

Rosey gets into a bloody mess

      I was having a beer with a few friends in the Bicycle Arms when in staggered a clearly distressed and slightly inebriated Rosey. We all gasped when we saw her. She was wearing a white blouse with a massive crimson stain on the front. We all stared open mouthed. At first she said nothing and neither did we, but then the words starting pouring out. “It’s blood, it’s blood, it’s blood” she screeched as she hopped from foot to foot.
      “Do you want to go have a pee?” asked James as he watched her frantic footwork. Rosey suddenly stopped hopping, adopted a straight face and a mild frown.
      “No” she said, and then reapplied the agonised expression she was wearing seconds earlier. Presumably anxiety was getting to her because she was shaking like jelly.
     I asked her where the blood was coming from and she said she didn't know, then started peering down the inside of her blouse. I asked if I could have a look which in retrospect was  probably not the right thing to suggest as she stopped hopping and gave me penetrating stare. Jenny came to my rescue by suggesting she take a peak. Rosey calmed down.
     “Oh dear” said Jenny “It’s a bit of a bloody mess down there”.
    “Watch your language” said Rosey “this is not the time to start swearing”.
     “No” said Jenny, I meant it‘s ‘bloody’ as in….oh, never mind”.
     James suddenly poked her in the ribs; not hard but enough to make Rosey squeal
    “Ouch”.
   “Sorry Rosey, I was just carrying out a medical examination!” he said, and then he started laughing which was totally inappropriate given the circumstances.
    “Actually, no it didn't said Rosey “But it could have done”.
    James said we should take her to the medical centre for some tests. I reminded him it was closed for the day and suggested we went to the hospital emergency ward instead. Rosey whose constantly changing expression suddenly reverted to serious said she didn't want to pester them. But we all insisted. Fortunately it was in walking distance; driving was out the question as we had been in the pub necking alcohol for a few hours.
     As we walked down the street I asked Rosey where she was when whatever had happened had happened, and she pointed across the road to the Gourmet Grill  and Wine Bar.
      “So you had a meal” I said. Suddenly thoughts began to float around my head. “On your own?” I asked.
     “Yep” she said
     “Did you have any wine?” I asked.
     She said she did and I asked which wine she'd had. “I managed a whole bottle of Merlot…hic.” she said as a satisfied if slightly wonky grin appeared on her face.
      “So you had red wine for a change” me.
     “Yes” her.
     “What did you eat?” I inquired
     “A big fat juicy burger” she said followed by a licking of her lips.
     “And did you have any relish with it?” I asked.
     “Of course” she said “Oooooodles of tomato sauce”
     A few minutes later we were back in The Bicycle Arms with our friends. Rosey had gone to the ladies room with Jenny to clean the tomato sauce from her chest and rinse some of the wine stain from her blouse. We ordered more beers for the lads, something revolting and green for Jenny, and a strong black coffee for Rosey bless her!

Rosey's secret admire - or not!

     My friend Rosey and I met at the Bicycle Inn the other evening. Just a quiet drink, a nibble to eat and a quick catch up kinda' thing. Somebody, a woman we didn't recognise walked in holding a bunch of flowers and went to the bar.  She asked if there was a Rosemary in the pub. Julie who was in the middle of pouring a pint said that there was a Rosey sitting in the window seat and nodded her head in our direction. Rosey as usual was listening to what was going on; she’s always more interested in other peoples conversations than ours! I stopped what I was saying as I was clearly wasting my breath. Rosey who had a fork with a foot or two of dangling sauce-laden spaghetti en-route to her open mouth stopped. I really mean stopped, like she was frozen in time. The spaghetti however decided not to take part in Rosey’s game of statues and slid from the fork and down the front of her crisp white blouse.
      The mystery lady walked over to us.
      ‘Hi, my name is Joy’.
      ‘Hi’ said Rosey.
      ‘Hi’ said I.
      ‘Five’ said the joker at the next table as he raised an open palm in our direction. 
       We ignored him. She sat herself down and apologised for interrupting our meal.
      ‘I’m actually called Rosey’ said Rosey. ‘But I seem to remember the vicar at my christening calling me Rosemary as he flung freezing water all over me’. 
       ‘How do you remember that?’ I asked. 
       ‘Well’ she said ‘It was cold. You’d remember it too’
       ‘No, not the water’ I said ‘how do you remember your christening?’ 
       ‘I was seven’ she said ‘and Mummy and Daddy wanted me to go to a church school so I had to be…done’. 
       ‘OK I get it’ I said. ‘Now Joy, what do you want with Rosey?’
       'I thought you were expecting me' she said 'but it matters not' She then started blurting on about a bloke who was infatuated with ‘Rosemary’. She aimed the flowers in Rosey’s direction. ‘He wants me to give you these; he really likes you a lot’.
       ‘A posey for Rosey’ said the joker at the next table. Once again we ignored him.
      ’He’s smitten with you Rosema…..Rosey, in love in fact. Flames of passion are burning in his soul. The memory of your first meeting forever sticks in his mind and will forever more’ She had suddenly become a full blown actress, her hands held to her heart as she gazed skyward. 
      ‘Whoever he is, he obviously likes you a lot’ I said as I gave Joy a polite hand-clap. ‘So, who is he?’ Rosey looked in my direction and gave me one of her quizzical frowns. ‘It’s not me ‘I spluttered ‘I’m old enough to be your Dad!’
       ‘And that would stop you?’ she said. Then she started listing some of my previous infatuations counting on her fingers as she did. 
    ‘No, no’ said Joy ‘I can’t reveal his identity as he fears rejection. I need to exercise discrimination. All I can say is that he is a handsome and noble creature who sent me to test the temperature and pave his way so to speak’. I got back to eating my ham egg and chips. Rosey nudged me as she felt eating was inappropriate at that moment. Her sudden action sent a fork full of my chips hurtling over to the next table. 
       ‘Can I have some salt for these’ chuckled the joker. We took no notice.
      ‘I have to go and report to your admirer. I can tell that you will just be perfect together’ said Joy as she got to her feet ‘and in a few minutes your beau will be here to introduce himself to you formally’ With that she bustled out.
       ‘Weird’ I said.
       ‘Weird ‘said Rosey.
       ‘Weird’ said the joker.
      As Joy walked out another lady walked in. She went straight over to the bar where Julie was pouring another pint. ‘Hello’ she said. ‘My name is Rosemary. I’m here to meet someone called Joy but I’m a bit late’
      ‘I think we ought to go - now’ I said. Rosey agreed.
      ‘Any chance I can have the rest of your spag boll Rosey babe?’ asked the joker. I just managed to stop her pouring it over his head!

Rosey's cycle of disasters!

Rosey was cycling along minding her own business, when an elderly lady staggered into her path. Rosey swerved to avoid her and as result got into an uncontrollable wobble just as she was about to descend a steep hill.

An approaching motorist was forced to take avoiding action which startled a passing pedestrian whose enormous dog dragged him into the bushes.

Rosey continued downhill unable to stop. She tried using her feet to assist her brakes, and the metal studs on her heels sent a shower of sparks flying out behind. A drunk on a bench dropped his can, and rubbed his bleary eyes convinced he was witnessing an alien landing.

Still unable to stop, Rosey hit the kerb and somersaulted over the handlebars landing in a flower bed which was being sprayed with water by a gardener. He quickly turned the hose away, and showered a young family who were, until then, enjoying a peaceful picnic in the park.

Rosey grabbed her hat, adjusted her muddy jeans and scrambled off to retrieve her bicycle from where it landed in the duck pond. Unfazed by the assembled crowd which looked on open mouthed, some dripping wet, she mounted her cycle and tried to make as dignified an exit as she could.

Unfortunately the front wheel, once round, was now egg shaped and although it still went round, it caused Rosey to bob up and down as she set off down the road. Once again the hill took control, and Rosey found herself travelling at breakneck speed with brakes which no longer functioned. Up down, up down, up down.

And then it happened. She rounded a corner and there in front of her was a truck with its tailgate down forming a ramp - up which Rosey shot!

She found herself her in the middle of a stack of open black sacks filled to overflowing with waste food on its way to the pig farm.

Rosey never got over the events of that day. She never cycled again, and she gave up bacon.

Rosey does twitching

My friend Rosey and a couple of other teachers went bird spotting with her class of ten year olds the other day. When she was first told she was to take the kids ‘twitching’, she panicked a bit because she thought it was something to do with social networking, and whilst she is an occasional user of Facebook she’s never really got to grips with a medium that only allows her to express herself in just one hundred and forty characters! She was very relieved to be told that being a twitcher is nothing like being a tweeter!

The children had been told to wear clothes that were not to colourful, as they needed to blend as much as possible with the surroundings. Rosey remembered she had a camouflage jacket somewhere in her wardrobe; she bought before she did her voluntary service teaching in Africa thinking it would make her less likely to eaten by wild creatures. Anyway, she said  it was so good that when she searched for it last week, she couldn't find it!

Those of you who are familiar with Eastbourne will know that at the western end of the seafront there is a steep grassy slope which rises six hundred feet to the summit of the chalk cliff known as Beachy Head. Rosey’s school sits at its base, and the lower slopes are home to all kinds of interesting feathered fowl. Skylarks and chaffinches, swallows and sand martins. Rosey led the group with a bird spotting book in her hand and a pair of binoculars to her eyes.

There are also rabbits, millions of them up there. Rosey was pointing out a hovering kestrel when her foot suddenly descended into a rabbit hole much the amusement of the children. Her situation caused even more mirth when she extracted her foot minus her boot! Fortunately a couple of eager volunteers managed to extract it for her, and they carried on their way.

Rosey, ever thoughtful, packed some sandwiches for the expedition. Around lunchtime she seated the children and her colleagues in a circle and handed out her little triangles of bread cheese and ham. In retrospect it was not such a good idea. The other birds which inhabit that region are of course seagulls and they are more than a little partial to a sandwich and fearless when one comes into sight. One of the perishers swooped down and helped itself to a sandwich straight from the hand of a little girl who immediately went hysterical.  Then the other kids joined in, throwing their sandwiches as far away from them as they possibly could. This was followed by a frenzy of activity from other gulls which flapped and fluttered around their newly acquired banquet. Gulls squawked, kids screamed and Rosey flapped her arms and shouted ‘shoo-shoo’!

Needless to say, the trip was abandoned. It wasn't the most successful expedition the school has conducted, but it certainly will never be forgotten.