Every so often I am called upon to act as an auctioneer for charity events. Especially in theses times, my heart sinks when I survey the table of offered goods…..the hand knitted toilet roll holders, the bars of lavender soap in a basket that have passed through six auctions or raffles already and the bottle of Greek sweet wine which was once of interest but, like the bog roll holders, has travelled more than Sir Ranulph Fiennes and has long passed the vintage stage and is now heading for vinegar.
However, last week I was given the opportunity to let one lucky bidder have the chance to gain a year’s supply of ice cream from Langage plus the rare glittering prize of naming a cow after the wife! As soon as I mentioned this, the entire room perked up and a hand shot into the air even before I mentioned the starting price. This hand was clubbed down by a bulky figure who I assume was his good lady and a small argument broke out! After the initial reticence of the male members of the audience, things really took off and two parties were battling away to win. Finally only one proud bidder stood tall and the gentleman was duly handed the certificate. And the name of the lady beside him?
‘Patricia,’ she said.
A name which is a bit long for the ear tag but it can be shortened. Yes, Langage is now having to name a cow….Pat! It may even appear on one of their products but Cow Pat flavoured ice cream may not be a best seller, even in this hot weather.
Speaking of hot weather, I have finally bought some new clothes to suit the season as my tee shirts and summer tops range from a six man bell tent to a sort of bra thing. I have changed shape lately but normally only go clothes shopping once very six years or when the police order me to. But last Saturday I entered some sort of boutique and became trendy, all of a sudden! I now have designer labels, true designer labels and not the ones I bought in Turkey in 2006 which read Lapost, Bolo and Timmy Hellfinger! With a rush of blood to the head, I then went and bought a pair of shoes but had forgotten the Mastermind quiz you have to go through in order to get shod these days.
Firstly I am size 9 in the UK, size 44 in America but the ones I bought were 11 and from the Ukraine! Next came the challenge to pay and almost made it, when the plimsoll police arrived.
Do you want polish? Do you have the proper treatment for leather made from Madagascan Mule sweat, designer extra laces, foot deodoriser and anti crack cream? Do you want a shoe tree, a shoe horn, a shoe shaper, a designer bag to keep them in or weekend cottage in Mullion? Suede brush, leather buffer, boot straps or hush puppy feeding bowl? After half an hour of grilling I bought a tin of polish which will join the tin of polish I bought six years ago which is still unopened under the kitchen sink.
Yours Fitz
P.S. At my next auction watch out for two tins of shoe polish from a mystery donor!
