Slurp. There I am thoroughly enjoying my hot mug of tea when there’s a sudden knock at the door. A sharp rat-a-tat-tat. Ah, recognition. It’s Mildred, the neighbour from across the road. She’s one lady I like to call a sophisti-cat. Always well dressed, well spruced, but hardly well informed. The poor dear.
Kiss, kiss she mwahs and settles herself on the couch. Hugging the cushion with her well manicured nails, she purrs, ‘So, darling, what have you been up to?’
‘Nothing much,’ I mumble.
‘What do you mean by ‘nothing’? There’s so much to do. Go shopping, have a pedicure, splash out on an expensive perfume, yet better still, buy a bit of jewellery!’ she adds with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
‘No, thanks, I’d rather not,’ I reply, as I hand her a cup of hot tea. Aye, she likes to have her tea, not in a mug, if you please, but in a teacup…pretty la-di-da, don’t you think?
‘I want to do something significant, something of value,’ I declare solemnly and take a sip of my Kenya tea, the best brew ever.
‘Don’t slurp, darling,’ she orders, sternly, furrowing up her brow. ‘Honestly, you’re one of those women who go picketing for lost causes. How dreadfully boring!’
‘Well, I don’t think so. Certain causes have to be supported and pressure groups formed if we are to progress in life,’ I tell her, half expecting Pandora’s box to open.
But, my dear friend remains calm. Instead, she smiles, pats her well coiffed hair and picks up her chunky leather handbag. Designer, no doubt.
‘Oh, that reminds me, darling, I have an appointment at the beauty salon for a botox treatment. I must dash. You know, darling, sagging chin, puffy brows…’ Mildred rambles on as she gets up to leave.
‘Ciao!’ and with a toodle-oo wave of her bejewelled, moisturiser slathered hand, she disappears, clickety-click, leaving behind a trail of floral fragrance in the air.
I get back to my mug of tea. To slurp or not to slurp…yes, I’ve found my answer. Slurp.