The Stewart Era

The Stewarts are making their presence felt in The Avenue. Marjorie popped round yesterday morning with a clipboard and a Tupperware pot full of pound coins. “Join in the Avenue Lottery love?” she asked me, jangling her braceleted wrist in my direction. “Pound a go per person, choose a number and if it’s chosen as the bonus ball in the Lottery tonight, you win the kitty. Fifteen quid in so far! It was a great hit at Mermaid Court!”

It appears that a lot of things were at “hit” a Mermaid Court – either the residents of this little cul-de-sac on the South Coast are devastated that the Stewarts moved to London or they’re holding a “Thank God They’ve Gone Party” every night. They’re certainly very active and get really enthused about everything.

For example, the aforementioned Residents Association has been moved from the warm and scatty welcome of Ruby Over the Road to the highly organised (if far too chintzy) venue of the Stewarts new abode. The first meeting is on Wednesday of next week and has an agenda and everything. Gone are the days of a quick bitch over a packet of chocolate digestives at Ruby’s. Ruby herself doesn’t mind “It’s not as if we did anything constructive, it was more an opportunity for Mary Three Doors Down to gossip”. She’s looking forward to it. I’m not, but David thinks I should go. I suggested that he, as Man of The House, should take on the Residents Association responsibility and he laughed long and loud. Apparently, the Mermaids Court Residents Association had monthly meetings and held a bring-and-buy every summer to raise funds.

Frank is also looking into getting up a newsletter for The Avenue. Mermaid Court had “Mermaid Muses” which he produced on a quarterly basis detailing all the ins and outs of the area. “Where to find the best curry on a Friday night and so on” he boomed as he handed me a sheaf of back copies. The headline of the last ever copy was “Stewarts Take Their Leave Of Number 15” and was accompanied by a picture of them both looking glum.

That’s quite without the fact that he’s talked the local vicar into starting a football team for local lads. David is actually quite keen on this and has put himself forward as an advisor. Nothing too active you understand, but he rather fancies himself standing on the touchlines yelling encouragement. The local pub is also being rallied into getting up a darts team. Mike, the landlord, is quite keen on this and is going to approach the brewery for a new dart board. Mermaid Court’s local (the Fuzzy Pear) had a darts team that annihilated every other team in the area. Naturally.

Marjorie said that Frank has never been the same since he gave up work “Always on the go he was, I called him Road Runner!” she said as she shifted her Tupperware pot from one hand to the other. “Now I call him Martin Bryce!” she hooted as she headed for Jack Next Door waving her clipboard in farewell.

Ever Decreasing Circles!