Have they gone yet?

'Have they gone yet?'
'I don't think so. I can still hear the wails of an angst ridden soul emanating from the bathroom.'
'Why does she do that do you think?'
'Blowed if I know. She should try eating a few worms. Then she' d know true suffering.'
'And do I have to type this with a cat on my lap?'
'No. Kick her off...'

Yooowwllllllllll............pfffsttttt....pffttt....

'Look,' says Miggins. 'If you two are going to hijack the Manor blog for a week whilst Andy and Denise are on holiday, you've got to be subtle.'
'Subtle? I don't do subtle,' says Mrs Pumphrey.
'So I see,' says Mrs Miggins. 'Your hat says it all. Who kicked the cat?'
'She did!' say Pumphrey and Slocombe, pointing accusatory wings at each other.
'Or possibly Mrs Bennett from beyond the grave,' says Mrs Slocombe.
'Don't you be dragging Mrs Bennett into this. She would NEVER kick a cat,' says Miggins. 'Her legs were far too short for a start.'

An awkward silence ensues. Upstairs, the wailing has stopped and been replaced by the far more cheerful sounds of someone singing 'Dancing in the Moonlight,' and going into the loft to retrieve suitcases.

'Talk about mood swings,' says Mrs Slocombe.
'When are they going?' says Mrs Pumphrey. 'Only Tango Pete called. He wants to know when he can arrive to start setting up the portaloos for 'HenFest 2010.'
'Not until mid-day tomorrow,' says Mrs Miggins. 'They're supposed to be leaving at 10, but you know what she's like. Reckons she's all organised, but then spends an extra half hour running around doing pointless displacement activities like hoovering the cupboard under the stairs or repointing the chimney.'
'Okay,' says Mrs Pumphrey, 'I'll call him back and let him know. '
'And you've bribed our chicken sitter?' says Mrs Slocombe.
'All inclusive week to see Michael Buble in concert seven times,' says Miggins. 'The muck will hit the fan only when the credit card bill arrives, and then I say we meld into the background until the shouting is over.'
'She'll never suspect us,' sayd Slocombe. 'After all, it's a well known fact that chickens have no idea about how to use a credit card.'
'Quite,' says Miggins.
'Actually, I'm surprised at how well I can manage this keyboard,' says Mrs Slocombe. 'Especially now I've got rid of the cat.'
'It's because you've got nimble toes,' says Mrs Pumphrey. 'I have nimble toes, too, but they are more suited to the ballet.'
'Perhaps I should develop a career in keyboarding,' says Mrs Slocombe.
'There's no such thing,' says Mrs Miggins.
'Really?' says Mrs Slocombe. 'What am I thinking of then?'
'Snowboarding?' suggests Mrs Pumphrey.
'Ironing boarding?' says Mrs Miggins, who, quite frankly, would like someone else to do the sheets and duvet covers every once in a while.
'No, no,' says Mrs Slocombe. She pauses in her typing to have a think ...

............


...........


'You'll have to start again,' says Mrs Miggins. 'Or we won't get any further.'
'Sorry,' says Mrs Slocombe. 'Well, whatever it is I'm trying to think of, I'm sure it will come to me soon. So, HenFest 2010, here we come, eh?'
'Yes,' says Mrs Pumphrey. 'I'm very excited. I've got a new head scarf in Parisian Pink chiffon, and a tambourine.'
'And I've left the outside tap running so we'll have a good pile of mud,' says Mrs Miggins.

Upstairs, the sound of suitcases being dropped fromt the loft hatch has stopped.

'What's she doing now?' says Mrs Slocombe.
'Decanting shampoo, conditioner, shower gel and moisturiser into handy travel-size bottles,' says Mrs Miggins.

'The sign of a deranged mind in need of a good holiday,' sighs Mrs Pumphrey.
'Exactly,' says Mrs Miggins. 'But at least they can go away knowing Much Malarkey Manor will be in good hands. Or rather wings.'
'Is that a good thing?' says Mrs Slocombe.
'Of course!' says Mrs Miggins. 'Just you wait and see.'