Design for Living

The Decade that Taste forgot

I followed Mgr Porter as fast as I could - but bear in mind that this man had been driving Cardinals around Rome, when I was still falling off my Raleigh tricycle in the front garden. However - I was able to follow the trail of roadkill and  skidmarks, and arrived chez Porter to find a distressed cleric leaning on the gatepost unable to do more than mutter incoherently about lining the traddies up against the wall and shooting them come the revolution. I don't remember that particular instruction from Lumen Gentium - but suggested we go inside for a cup of tea.

The sight that met us was a revelation, and I would refer readers back to a previous post where I remarked upon Mgr Porter's exquisite taste in furniture. "Gosh", I said. The curtains alone spoke eloquently without help from me.

Brentford Nylon sheets, of course

It appeared that person or persons unknown had entered the property whilst Mgr Porter had been engaged in attempting to re-order Trollington, and had decided to improve his own residence along the same lines, so that it looked for all the world like Jason King's bachelor pad. On the plus side, he had acquired a rather nice stereo of the type I had lusted after as a teenager, in order to play my Roxy Music albums - and there, on the smoked perspex lid, was a letter, which I took the liberty of opening and perusing. It ran as follows:

Dear Baz

We feel it is high time that you updated your abode, to reflect the Spirit of Vatican 2.

Enjoy

The Lone Beadsmen

PS if you want your old junk back before we break it up for firewood, then LAY OFF our churches.
PPS If you use the trouser press it may well set your pants on fire, but that would be forty years overdue for all the drivel you write in the Tablet.

"Hmm," I said carefully choosing my words."Looks like you haven't a prayer, old chap. We had better tootle back to Trollington and give them the good er - awful news".

But our chum had gone pale again. "What about the ACP? They are due in Trollington any time now. We may be too late!"

Awfully sorry to leave it there, chaps and chapesses, but I have just discovered that Charles and Hetty have been under the eiderdown impersonating a pair of hot water bottles and I must sneak them downstairs before Mrs McElhone gets wind of it, or there'll be hell to pay tomorrow. TTFN