my house
unusual bird street
flatlandshire

dear michelle

you don’t know me.  and i certainly don’t know you.  but this morning you made me giggle into my coffee.  yes, i giggled so much i almost snorted the coffee out through my nose. 

upon turning on my mobile phone, which was off out of respect for the dead in graveyards, i discovered that voicemail wanted me to call it.  aha, thought i, voicemail must be lonesome and need cheering up.  no, voicemail just wanted to pass on a message. it’s long.  it’s a chap who can’t stop talking.  you know the sort, they go on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on [*smacks self on side of head so that self shuts up*] and repeat themselves constantly.  the message only needed to be about thirty seconds, short, concise.  no, the message becomes five minutes.  five minutes of my voicemail.  pffft. 

[did i tell you that whilst in the teeny-tiny village churchyard yesterday the local vicar popped out, dressed in full vicar clothing of the black variety, and asked us to visit him in the vicarage where his dull wife would be happy to serve us tea and crumpets?  no?  oh, that’s right – it didn’t happen.  i have to admit that i was extremely disappointed and pondered the demise of english-vicar hospitality]

of course, you don’t yet know that the chap, and some woman named susan, have decided that you have enough odds and sods and won’t have to re-sit your exam.  aren’t you the lucky one? 

are you sitting at home waiting for the chap to ring?  are you fretting about having to re-sit the exam?  are you running round the house sobbing your little heart out?

do you think that the next time you give someone your mobile number you might ensure they copy it down correctly?  or mayhaps that they don’t have clumsy fingers which will make them dial incorrectly? 

would you like to see a picture of my tabatha cat?

michelle, did that cheer you up?

enjoy the rest of your life, re-sits or not.  thank you for the laughter.

love, katie the finger x

[i worry that you think me evil.  but i can’t ring the chap back to tell him i’m not you because i can’t find the number anywhere on the phone.  and anyways, you don’t know me so you don’t know that talking to strangers on the phone is my idea of hell.  now you know]

16 comments

  1. That’s hilarious. Poor girl fretting away wondering if she has to re-sit, when all of xanga land, plus the dead in a little graveyard in the English countryside all know that she needn’t fret. I love it

  2. And then you realised your name was Michelle in a former life, and her ghosts heve caught you up.I once had a call from someone arranging to be picked up from a train station. And, most famously (look at the old Robyn contacts page), a man who thought we were the Mercury test centre.By the way, that’s not your cat. For a start it’s not behind the TV.The toilet exploded today.Lewis.

  3. Tabatha has a big head at that angle. But she’s still an absolutely adorable wittle kitty!Poor Michelle. I hope the person who called her realizes he screwed up. Or she gets in touch with him. Or something.Hehe, maybe that vicar was similar to the one on Keeping Up Appearances. Good-looking but standoffish.

  4. That was so creative…and very humorous.  I had a woman call me three times in a row asking for a Uncle Jim. And I mean in a row as in less than five min b/t each call. 
    Great picture of tabatha cat!

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