Basket Case

I think I did mention it the other day. You remember. The other weekend when it was sunny. She Of The Townhouse and her enthusiasms.
I don’t know what its all about. Perhaps its a time of life thing …. All I know is that it started with an ill advised nod of the Hallett barnet and now there are bloomin baskets everywhere. They confuse me and they confuse the dog as well.
In a moment of weakness I agreed that she could tidy up the bathroom. Now you must understand from the outset that it wasn’t untidy in the first place, but there were aspects that offended the Townhouse eye. Suited me quite well for many years you know, but not entirely to the feminine taste.
Stuff on the shelf rather than squirreled away, perhaps in the airing cupboard, the odd cobweb ( these are both decoratively interesting and functional in my opinion…) and a gentleman’s preference for the seat up of course.
So there I was the next day, bemused that the spider was not in his usual lair and wondering why the gleaming porcelain of the Armatige Shanks wore a wooden cover. And all of a sudden I spotted wicker work where my knick knacks ought to lie.
Not just one basket mind you but five!
Not a clue as to what lay within any of them. The chin lowered itself in a posture of dumbfound. After a short period of distraction I noted a warm dampness around the sock area.
Every thing has been arranged and I cant find a damn thing!