Perhaps I'm naïve but you would think that Colgate Colin would simply want the film to do well, particularly if he has had a few flops recently.
But it sounds as if My Mandy (Your Mandy?) is better off without him around providing that they can finish the film that is.
And I asked the Dashing Major about St. Petersburg and he said that what happened in St. Petersburg should stay in St. Petersburg. But he did say that since that incident he has taken to sleeping in pyjama bottoms.
Anyway, on to Auntie Doris.
So the aforementioned relative has now met the A-lister but not in any circumstances that he would ever wish to repeat.
It was about 1am when he arrived back at the house and thought that we had all gone to bed. Certainly we had and the wooden wedge was jammed solidly behind our door so that there could be no interruptions in the night. And I'm very grateful to Piotr the Protective for it because I'm sure that the door was tried and the only person that was in the house at that point, other than us, was Auntie Doris. Goodness knows what she would have done had it opened but thankfully we will not find out.
There had been numerous text messages throughout the evening and so the A-lister had determined that the best way of avoiding Auntie Doris was to arrive back when he could be sure she had gone to bed. And rather than take the risk of waking the household he had not bothered to put any lights on feeling confident that he could find his way to the stairs and from there to his room. So he had just reached the top of the stairs when out of the darkness a cheery voice greeted him with Ooooo so you are (the A-lister).
He says it was a miracle that he started forwards because had he jumped back he would likely as not have fallen down the stairs. He also says that the fright is likely to have cost him 10 years of his life.
Because we have no street lights near the house it does tend to be absolutely black at night. He was therefore at a loss as to where the voice was coming from until he was vaguely aware of a petite woman in a white nightgown moving towards him. The sensible part of his brain was telling him that this was Auntie Doris but the fanciful part of the brain which does, I think, tend to take precedence at that time of the morning and in the pitch black, was suggesting that perhaps the house was haunted. So when she appeared to be intent on coming closer he screamed. A very high pitch, piercing scream. Not at all the kind of sound that you would have associated with someone who looks like he does so it does just go to show that you can't judge.
And he didn't stop at just one scream. Oh no. I think I made out the words Get away! but I really couldn't swear to it in all the shrieking. Of course we both sprung out of bed thinking that we had a murderous intruder in the house, or at the very least a vaguely sinister intruder, only to emerge from our room and put the light on and find him cowering against a wall and Auntie Doris, in nightwear that was so sheer it was almost see through, advancing upon him. The Dashing Major says that vision will haunt him for the rest of his life. Auntie Doris in her nightie. Not the A-lister cowering.
Auntie Doris seemed quite taken aback by the A-lister's reaction to her greeting and was intent on comforting the poor boy but I managed to persuade her that it would be better to go back to her room and let us deal with him. Once he realised that it was Auntie Doris and not the spirit remains of some long dead inhabitant of the house he did rally a little and let himself be led downstairs by the Dashing Major for a stiff whisky. They hadn't even got through their first glass when Auntie Doris, now thankfully in a silk dressing gown, reappeared and announced that she was rather partial to a single malt herself. I had heard her come out of her room so was not far behind her but the Dashing Major sent me back to bed on the grounds that it wasn't worth both of us missing out on our sleep.
So it was only when my alarm woke me at 6am that I realised that I was alone in bed. And when I went to find out where the Dashing Major was I found him and the A-lister fast asleep in a crumpled heap on the living room settee with two empty bottles of his favourite whisky on the table and three empty glasses.
There was no sign of Auntie Doris but when I went upstairs and pressed my ear to her bedroom door I could clearly hear snoring.
Thankfully it is the A-lister's day off because I can tell you now, Pirate, there was no way he would have been able to make it to set. I managed to rouse them, get them both to their respective beds and left them each with a pint of water and a couple of painkillers. I have no doubt that they will both have sore heads when they do eventually reappear.
And then, just as I was wondering how many in the house might make it up for, and be able to stomach, lunch Auntie Doris appeared and declared that it was such a lovely day that I should take her shopping. And she knew a lovely place in Leeds where we could get lunch and have a girly catch-up.
Joys abound!
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