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A Triumphal Tuesday to you all!
You know sometimes people tell me that I must be making this stuff up, but, believe me, you couldn't. You see, I may have ideas above my station, but I don't think so. I know I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth- only minor hiccough was that I swallowed it and it only reappeared again about a week later, looking a little tarnished. Story of my life? Maybe.
Imagine my excitement though, when I was perusing my Saga magazine yesterday morning. I, of course, am not old, just 86 years of miles on the clock, but I got a man to turn my clock back.(Just don't tell anyone!) I only get it for the occasional good article on bungee rafting in the Amazon or such like, and, of course the large discounts, which, as you know I can't pass up. I now have 43 Tens machines, a lightbox to cheer me up(as if I need that!), 33 unused motorised wheelchairs and half a dozen gadgets to lift items dropped on the floor. I could open a shop. Maybe, I will.
Anyway, there I was staring at Judith Chalmers telling us how wonderful it is to be orange and leathery in old age, because, that way, you know you have been about a bit, when all of a sudden, I saw an article about the beekeeper at Buckingham Palace. Yes, that one, where QE2 resides from time to time, counting the days till she sends my centenary telegram!
Well, the article was ok, but it was the name of the bloke that got my attention. They said it was Bernard. No surname given. Yikes, at that moment, a surge of excitement and destiny coursed through my aristocratic veins. I just knew it. You see, my grandfather's first name was Bernard and I had always been told that there was something royal in his background, but the messages handed down were a little mysterious and garbled. Now, though, the mystery was solved. This Bernard was obviously some sort of distaff, off the record, descendant of my noble grandfather, and where else would he gravitate to than a Royal household!
Thus began my adventure. I rang Buck House forthwith and had a discussion with a rather snooty lady(who frankly seemed a little too confused to be allowed to answer phones for royalty). I simply asked her for the surname of the beekeeper. You would have thought I was after nicking the Crown Jewels. I could almost hear alarm buttons being pressed and she gave the spiel about security and confidentiality. After a while, she softened and seemed to accept my innocent enquiry, but there was a tone in her voice like she was humouring me, while a trace was being made on the line. Any road, eventually, she said I should write in and my query would be passed on. There was no mention of an invite to a garden party or such like, but I suppose it is only a matter of time.
Well, that was all very exciting and draining. I went over to close the curtains for a little snooze and, I might be wrong, but I thought 2 blokes in suits, in a black sedan, with blacked-out windows were eyeing me up. Maybe Her Majesty has immediately assigned them to me for round the clock protection of my noble person? Time will tell! Off now to polish up my silver.
Yours nobly yet with a modicum of humility
The blogging Gogfather!