Lynne and Alfie

Picture of my JRT - Lynne and Alfie adore him and he adores them.

Lynne and Alfie

Last week I received a call from my special friend Lynne . . .sadly it was to tell me that Alfie, Lynne's husband, is in hospital and is dying of cancer. He has weeks at best to live and at worst possibly only days. I would like to add that Alfie does not know that he only has a short time left - only that he is dying - so if anyone reading this discovers that they know him and Lynne - please please don't say anything.

But I don't think they would thank me for dwelling on this awful news so instead I would like to tell you about Lynne and Alfie and the fun we had together.

To set the scene – I have sent them a new improved fart machine with 15 farts on it - brilliant have got one myself now . . . . was going to send a card and flowers . . . but knowing Lynne and Alfie a fart machine is much more appropriate. I gather Alfie (now home from hospital) is creating havoc with it.

HS and I met Lynne and Alfie in the Village years ago – sadly they have now moved along way South and we rarely see them. We quickly became friends. In the old days HS was away all week working in London and I was left coping with three cottages to let and clean and over a period of time re-decorate. Enter Lynne and Alfie with mops, buckets, paint pads and great big grins. I can honestly say I don't know what I would have done without their energetic and practical help and enormous sense of fun. Actually thinking back it was amazing really that we ever got any work done at all – we seemed to spend most of our time doubled up with laugher. Alfie has a huge repertoire of jokes and a day decorating with him and Lynne always left me aching with laughing too much.

Alfie is a very good mimic and the number of times I have been scuttling around looking for a lost cat is untrue. He got me every berludy time and every time I really should have known better.

On one occasion (whilst Alfie was downstairs painting the dining room), son, daughter and Lynne and I tied several poles together and then leaning out of the upstairs bedroom window we kept tapping on the dining room window. We had poor Alfie rushing outside every couple of minutes to see who, or what it was. . . Eventually he caught us which then involved much running around with spray bottles of water and water pistols trying to soak each other. Alfie then ran into the downstairs toilet and locked himself in. AH HAH . . The kids and I went and got an old wardrobe door with a full length mirror in it and propped it up a few feet back from the toilet door – the idea being that Alfie would get a fright when he opened the door . . . . We than made lots of 'we are walking away' noises. Two minutes went by, no Alfie, 5 minutes, 7 and then BOOOOO. He had somehow climbed out of the really tiny toilet window and crept round and jumped out at us. We were all crying with laughter until we discovered that Alfie couldn't actually climb back through the toilet window and now neither could we get into the toilet , which was where all the paint was kept. . . . so we went and had a cup of tea . . . . Meanwhile son – not one to be beaten and not a tea drinker either had somehow managed to wriggle back in through the toilet window and unlocked the door – happily apart from a few scrapes he didn't hurt himself. Then again he didn't hurt himself when he jumped out of his bedroom window to see what it was like. Aaaaarrrrgggggg it is on the first floor!!!!!!!!! WHY????? Oh blood runs cold now even thinking about it. Still he found out what it was like and amazingly didn't hurt himself at all . . . and after the lecture he got hasn't done anything that stupid since . . . that I know of. Any way I digress . . .

One morning Lynne brought me my first ever egg from my chickens – special moment . . . I was amazed at how soft and fuzzy feeling the egg was – Lynne explained that was how it was with the first egg that a chicken ever lays. Then gently taking the egg from me . . . . she suddenly threw it at me yelling quick catch – I missed . . it was a rubber egg . . . . which I still have . . . .

Another time HS and I had to go and deliver something to Lynne and Alfie 's house – they were out, so we decided to leave it in their shed . . . . . golden opportunity . . . .we turned every item in their shed up side down . . . . . they still haven't forgiven us . . . . yeah right!

Another occasion saw us all painting the lounge. Lynne and Alfie schooshing away with their paint pads and me with my roller . . . I had gone to to pour more paint into the roller tray and was leaning forward when my mobile phone fell out of my scruffy very non-Boden shirt pocket and plopped neatly into the middle of the paint tray and with much gloopy satisfaction . . . . sank. I plunged my hand right into the paint tray and grabbed my paint sodden phone . . . . Lynne says she remembers me standing there covered from head to toe in paint splatters holding up this object with paint sliding off it – shaking with laughter and pleading – 'OMG please don't ring, please don't ring,. . . . . because we all knew that, as a compulsive mobile phone user, I would have had to have answered it if it had indeed rung. . . . . .

Lynne says it is this image that she brings to mind when it all gets to much and it is this image that is helping her through . . . . .Lynne I don't know what to say . . .