Rockbottom of the steep red stairs

Pets and lambs, cats and dudes, the mistress bids you bonjour and whatnot in a fairly addled state.

You know how I was taking that mystery flight last Friday, well, get this, it took me to Melbourne and didn’t return until Sunday!!! Crazy Verjus. The flight attendants going to Mel really lived up to my expectations. And let me tell you how I relished observing it all from my second row pew, peering over the latest Vanity Fair, from which I was reading all about Bette Davis, and My space, incidentally my outrage about my space is totally vindicated. I was on board the 50th Verjus Bleurgh aeroplane and to celebrate, no we weren’t given champers, but our overhead lockers for the carry on luggage were emblazoned with the names of the flight attendants, cult of the celebrity or what! I’m not sure if this list included the name of every single person who’d ever been an f.a. on Verjus bleurgh, but 85% of em would have done sweet f.a. while on board.

Enough of that gripe but who doesn’t love having one and Verjus is my current favourite, out of 5 squillion. However, the Verjus one may have to go down a few notches because of the flight attendants’ courtesy on the trip back.

Fortunately, I have some very dear friends in Mel Bourne Gridleigh and was able to stay at the charming chez lorraine b'n'b whose hosts are truly delightful. So yes, I had a whale of time, got to gad about the suburbs and see a fair bit thanks to my driver, Parker, saw the former family seat and bought some really great lps in Blackburn, again with Parker’s guidance, lps will no doubt provoke some fantastic pop star dreams starring Kris Kristoffersen, Todd Rundgren, Steve Harley and every single line up of the Models. Then spent most of Saturday night in a love me bubble fuelled by all forms of Mr Tipple, I was mixing and not worrying, worrying is always for the next day, don't ye know. I don’t think I landed in any major soup, and if I did that was so last Saturday and I don’t want to know, just general loud mouthery, balderdash, mayhem, high kicks, prancing and generally finding myself thoroughly entertaining, it is a given that that was probably not the general consensus, and loving everyone. I will, however, be forever haunted by a set of steep red stairs but really cannot go into that incident, lest it bring on a Hitchcock moment of “Spellbound” proportions. Oh well, when you tap too much into Mr Tipple, something hilarious or horrendous is guaranteed around the corner. Big thanks to Mia and Boy for organising a fabulous party and producing the party’s accompanying CD. Brilliant. And thanks to the lady Deejay, and to the hosts of the post part-ay party for their hospitality.

So come Sunday and boarding time for DJ inane rave at 3.15, let’s just say the Mistress was not quite 100 percent. She was very focused on her self inflicted wounds, groaning “oh God” and "oh Gordon"out loud every 2 minutes, moaning, coughing, spluttering, noisily pulling down blinds against this interminable summer’s blinding sunshine, completely oblivious to her surrounds, even had to resort to using the courtesy paper bag. But as the sweet young man in my row said, after I pathetically apologised, “what can you do?” Fortunately for him there was an empty seat between us. Anyhoo the flight attendants were very kind to me, gave me a washer and some smelling salts, and once we'd landed and I fumbled for my wits and my handbag, promptly dropping my washer and glass of ice, the gel even took my luggage out of the locker.

Hmmm, was that latter action courtesy or just hurrying me off the plane, I was the last to disembark............Oh the outrage, I was sick an’all, Miss. Well farewell Verjus Armistice you are the weakest link so back to the top of my gripe list you go.