Today her ladyship put my diamond collar and lead on me, gently put me on the cushion in my wicker basket and placed me on the back seat of Roger the Roller beside her then she sank back into the soft leather seat as Skrowte then drove us to the city for Tea at The Glitz.

I love Tea at The Glitz.

When we arrived, the smartly uniformed doorman of The Glitz opened the car door and gently lifted me in my basket out of the car and held me as if I was priceless, which of course to her Ladyship, I am! Then we followed her ladyship into the establishment. The staff all curtseying and fawning over Lady Fanny like a long lost friend as she swept into the ballroom, in her long afternoon dress and strings of pearls round her neck, where tea was being served.

We sat down at our usual table where Dame Drusilla Ponkington Pipsqueak joined us for afternoon tea.

Ponkers is one of Lady Fanny’s best friends. They were at St Rhubarb’s School together many decades ago. The three of us have tea at least once a month to ‘catch up’ but the conversation is the same every time.

How wonderful Earl Grey tastes in a proper porcelain cup by Wodgerwood; how the cakes at afternoon tea “simply have no calories in them darlink” and how you just cannot get the staff these days, and when you do The Queen’s English seems to be their third language.

And, the gem which Ponkers always rattles out rather loudly across the ballroom without fail:

“Whoever said money can't buy happiness simply doesn't know where to go shopping dear.” This is guaranteed an uproarious laugh by the staff serving the tea every time it is heard.

But today Dame Drusilla had some simply marvellous news. I stopped licking the organic salmon out from between two pieces of finely cut, hand buttered artisan bread with spelt grains and farmhouse butter from Chull’s smallholding in the Douche of Cordwalls and cocked my ears.

Dame Ponkington Pipsqueak’s daughter, Winnifred, is getting engaged to Duke Algernon Toadblaster. Winnifred looks like a startled horse. Her teeth are bucked and enormous, she could eat an apple through a tennis racket. Algernon breeds spots, greasy hair and acne at a quite alarming rate. They are well suited.

The wedding is to be held in the private royal chapel, St Harpic’s and anyone who is anyone in society will be there.

“As a hoot,” Ponkers whooped on, “Winnifred is being driven to the chapel in a London Transport bus driven by Flip’s youngest grandson Ginger Poobs. Her school friends along with all the ‘younger invitees’ will be on the bus along with crates of champers in case the poor dears get thirsty.”

Ponkers rattled away about the forthcoming nuptials which are to be done by the Arch-bish of Banterbury, himself, personally. I lost interest and turned back to the fine bone china plate with my own Tea at Glitz assortment for refined felines. The cream scones in the shape of mice were heavenly.

Naturally Lady Fanny and I have been invited to the wedding, the social event of the year. In fact we are on the ‘A’ list along with Izzy and Flip, which is to be expected. My pedigree speaks for itself when it comes to social occasions which I attend with Lady F. We will not be taking advantage of the public transport driven by Ginger Poobs.  We will be taking Roger the Roller, far more civilised.

“The engagement ring is being made by Arsesprays,” Ponkers banged on. “Algernon himself has designed it.”

“Very traditional,” approved Lady Fanny.

“But the reception will be held at the Peppermint Hippo,” Ponkers hissed her disapproval. This caused Lady F to take a sharp intake of breath.

“How hideous,” she sympathised.

“I know sweetie,” sighed Ponkers. “But it’s their day. What can one do, youngsters today, no respect for proper establishments like The Glitz; they just want to while away the hours in dark discos till all hours bumping and grinding and taking little blue pills called Niagara.”

“Go away to the Caribbean for the month, give it a miss?” suggested Lady Fanny.

“Love to, but couldn’t darling,” Ponkers looked at me as I sat, mid bite into my scone quite fascinated.

“Algernon’s parents have booked the entire Caribbean for the month for their honeymoon as a little wedding pressie!”

One Cat is Company

"One cat is company.
Two cats are a conspiracy. 
Three cats is an attempted takeover.
Four or more cats is a complete coup!"

Shona Steele (Australia)

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