I've just been on the phone to BOF. That's right, this is Breaking News from Kate in the Countryside.
Today at lunchtime BOF popped back for five minutes, just to check on the coffee-machine you understand. He opens the main downstairs door into an ill-parked pram and is overwhelmed by awkwardness when the child inside squawks its dismay. This turns to near-hysterical embarrassment when he is also greeted by the bottom of a bent-over thirty-year-old woman. She is at the foot of the stairs, scrabbling through the cumulated post of our building.
Today at lunchtime BOF popped back for five minutes, just to check on the coffee-machine you understand. He opens the main downstairs door into an ill-parked pram and is overwhelmed by awkwardness when the child inside squawks its dismay. This turns to near-hysterical embarrassment when he is also greeted by the bottom of a bent-over thirty-year-old woman. She is at the foot of the stairs, scrabbling through the cumulated post of our building.
True, we have not yet managed to contrive sugar-borrowing visits to meet every single one of our neighbours, but this is decidedly not a woman known to BOF. In fact, he is fairly confident that she does not live here.
She straightens. She is looking for post for Flat C. Interestingly, that is where we live. As awkwardness reaches fever pitch, BOF fights temptation to turn and run, realising who this single mother must be....
None other than our evicted predecessor, one Bonny Umekwe. The provider of fraudulent references. The woman against whom all of our locks were (so the estate agent told us) changed. In an astonishing fit of bravery BOF admits that we have taken Bonny's post to the estate agent, so that they could forward it to her. Our fraudulent friend swears. She is not on the best terms with our estate agent.
'Sorry,' offers BOF. Suddenly his lunchtime cappuccino seems an unnecessary extravagance. Backing out, he returns calmly to work.
She straightens. She is looking for post for Flat C. Interestingly, that is where we live. As awkwardness reaches fever pitch, BOF fights temptation to turn and run, realising who this single mother must be....
None other than our evicted predecessor, one Bonny Umekwe. The provider of fraudulent references. The woman against whom all of our locks were (so the estate agent told us) changed. In an astonishing fit of bravery BOF admits that we have taken Bonny's post to the estate agent, so that they could forward it to her. Our fraudulent friend swears. She is not on the best terms with our estate agent.
'Sorry,' offers BOF. Suddenly his lunchtime cappuccino seems an unnecessary extravagance. Backing out, he returns calmly to work.
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