Pricked bubbles

'Tell me about a time you've pricked someone's bubble.'

'You what . . . '

'Have you ever raised your head above the parapet?'

Ginny is doing her impression of a gawping goldfish. She finds her voice.

'Didn't you just want to get up and leave?'

'Yes, but I did want the job,' said Clive. 'I don't think I've ever pricked someone's bubble have I?'

He's relating the story of his latest job interview. Clive currently works for Very Big Computer Company. VBCC is undergoing some 'restructuring' which means Clive no longer has a job. But, it being too expensive to make Clive redundant, VBCC is trying to 'place' him elsewhere in the company. This is proving difficult as Clive does not have the requisite grasp of management 'lingo' and he is a good 15 to 20 years older than most of his interviewers. He's only just started using phrases like 'plucking the low-hanging fruit' and 'singing from the same hymn sheet.' According to Nick these are 'soooo 1990s.' Nick knows because he's doing business studies GCSE and is up with all the jargon.

Clive is very worried about his career. He has devoted many years to VBCC but he senses that now he's seen the back of his mid-40s his career is on the slide.

'It'll only be a year or so before I'm farmed out to the training department, then it'll be a few quiet years in the backwaters, pretending that what I'm doing is really important to the future of the company and I'll be quietly pensioned off (or not pensioned off depending on the state of VBCC's pension fund).'

Clive can be very gloomy sometimes. Ginny tries her 'stuff and nonsense' routine in a bid to rouse him. It fails.

'I may as well go and be fitted for my orange overall now.'

'What orange overall?'

'B & Q's'

'Clive you've lost me.'

'Isn't that what all of us has-beens end up doing? A little part-time job in B & Q shifting bags of cement until we finally keel over . . .'

Oh dear Clive's bubble has definitely been pricked.

To train or not to train?

'Haven't you taken Arrow to puppy classes yet?'

The cut-glass tones rang out over the village green.

'Oh, hello Diana. Err no, I'm training Arrow myself,' Ginny replied, rather defensively I thought.

'First dog is it?' Diana's strident tones rang out again. The whole of Aston Peverell would be in no doubt that Diana Perrington was out and about. To say she had a voice like a fog-horn would be understating it. Not only is her voice loud but it is shrill. And it is very, very posh. Posher than posh in fact. And what Diana Perrington doesn't know about Springer Spaniels isn't worth knowing as she tells Ginny, every time we have the misfortune to bump into her on one of our walks.

'Springers need a very firm hand. If you don't show them who's boss when they're young you'll never get them to behave.' Diana is always full of advice.

It's funny that whenever people see Ginny out with me they offer sympathetic comments usually along the lines of: 'It's alright, springers start to calm down when they're about 10' or 'He'll keep you fit, Ginny, they want two hours walk every day.'

Ginny takes it all in her stride although I think I do wear her out a little now and then. I heard her talking to Clive last night. 'It's like before you have your first baby,' she said. 'Every one tells you what it's going to be like. You know, the sleepless nights, the teething, the chewing, the crying. But until you do it you have absolutely no idea what it's really like, and then it's too late. Arrow's like that. I knew it would be hard work but I didn't realise it would be just like having a baby. He howls at night, his teeth are falling out, he chews everything he can find and he wakes us all up at five in the morning raring to go. I'm absolutely shattered.'

Clive was less than sympathetic. 'Well getting a dog was your idea Ginny.' He was busy sussing out the odds for The Derby at the time - only half an ear on the conversation as usual. I wouldn't say Clive has taken well to having a dog around the house. He's still miffed that Festus hardly ever comes home nowadays.

'Diana Perrington says I ought to take him to puppy class.'

'Haven't you spent enough money on him already?'

The issue of money and me is a sore point at the moment. Ginny is quite economical with the truth when it comes to canine spending. But Clive sat down last week and totted up how much expenditure had been incurred on my behalf (totted up the amount he knows about anyway).

First there was the fee to my breeder, then the chicken wire and fence posts to make the garden dog-proof, then my dog-bed, bedding, toys, food, emergency trips to the vet, non-emergency trips to the vet. Clive was counting on his fingers. 'Ginny we're well on our way to spending a thousand pounds on a b****y animal! How much are dog training classes?'

'Oh not much. I don't know a couple of quid a week . . .'

'And how long will he have to go for?'

'I don't know, until he's trained I suppose.'

'No. We can't afford it.'

And that was the end of the matter.

Chinese takeaway again

'Not Chinese again.' Jake is toying with the pile of food on his plate. Fried rice, sweet and sour pork, crispy pancakes.

He's not happy. Jake would rather have fish and chips, or pizza, or spaghetti bolognese. Good traditional English food. Not Chinese takeaway which, according to Jake, slimes all over the plate and all tastes the same. Chinese takeaway has been on the menu twice this week. Nick and Ben Love it. Clive's lukewarm. I think it's delectable. Ginny puts the empty foil containers on the floor after she's served up and I lick them clean enough to refill - if you were so inclined.

I don't know why Ginny's suddenly taken to takeaways. She's always been very particular about the family food. She usually makes sure the boys have a good square home-made meal in the evenings. You know the meat and two veg type of thing. 'Takeaway is a once-in-a-while treat,' she once told the boys.

Clive queried the sudden takeaway frenzy.

'I've got loads of work on at the moment. I can't spend all my days cooking from scratch. I need to earn the money for our summer hols,' Ginny explained, none too convincingly.

I know for a fact that Ginny hasn't got a lot of work on. She may sit down at her computer for several hours a day but I wouldn't call it working. Once she's dashed off a few paragraphs of health news for Mirabelle magazine and answered a couple of queries from the sub-editors she spends much of the day perusing the bargains on e-bay. At about ten to three she flicks a duster over the worst of the mess, runs the Dyson over the hall floor, then dashes over the road to collect Jake from school at 3pm. It's a far from taxing life.

So why Ginny served up Chinese takeaway on Monday evening, and again on Wednesday evening is currently a mystery.

Thursday morning was Ginny's second session of Knit 'n' Bitch. Now I know for a fact that Ginny has hardly touched her needles this week - unless she's been clicking away while I've been having my afternoon nap. So when she pulled the red jumper she'd been knitting for Jake out of the Sainsbury's carrier bag there was a collective gasp around the breakfast table.

'Wow, is that my new jumper?' Jake jumped up and down spluttering Rice Krispies around the room (a tasty snack for me).

Ginny held up the work for all to admire. It was truly impressive. She'd almost finished the back and its intricate network of cable and moss stitch was a knitting wonder.

'How did you get all that done with all the work you've been doing?' Clive asked.

'Oh, it doesn't take long once you've got the hang of it. I just did a few minutes here and there through the week. It's very therapeutic really,' Ginny was waffling, and if there's one thing I've learnt since moving in with The Philpotts it's that when humans waffle, they lie.

After my morning walk Ginny trotted off to Knit 'n' Bitch. She had a sort of self-satisfied smile on her face. Nobody, but nobody, would dare to snigger at her knitting this week.

Knit 0 Bitch 10

You've got to give credit where credit's due. Ginny can knit. On Monday she couldn't. Now she can. Sort of. Very slowly. By Thursday - Knit 'n' Bitch Day - Ginny had knitted a whole 10 rows of double rib. It had taken superwoman effort but she'd done it. She could go to Knit 'n' Bitch with something to prove that she can indeed knit like any other real woman. Ginny trotted off to Bonnie's house with her knitting tucked into the top of her handbag, and a plate of homemade oatmeal biscuits.

Three hours later she was back. 'You'll never guess what!' were her first words to Clive.

She then launched into some of the most scurrilous gossip I'd ever heard. 'And did you know that Tony is shacked up with Lucretia?'

'What Lucretia from the pub?' Clive was incredulous.

'Yes the one with the pierced lip and blonde hair.'

'With Tony? But he's got to be in his 70s?'

'Yes but he owns half of Worcestershire and Lucretia wants to get her hands on it.

'And did you know,' Ginny continued breathlessly. 'That the vicar's wife has run off,' Ginny paused for maximum effect.

'With another woman!'

Clive was stunned. 'But they've got three children.'

'Yes but they're all grown up. Apparently Janet said she'd come to realise her life had been a sham. Della said she doesn't know whether she should keep inviting her for coffee anymore. Do lesbians do coffee mornings?'

And so it went on. Ginny filling Clive in on the comings and goings (mostly comings by the sound of it) of the residents of Aston Peverell and environs. I began to doze off. Then my ears pricked up:

'So that's the Bitch, how did the Knit go?' asked Clive.

'Oh Clive it was so embarrassing. When I got there they all had their knitting out and it was all fantastic. Bonnie's knitting a white christening gown for her grandchildren.'

'But she hasn't got any.'

'No but she wants to be ready when the time comes.'

'But her eldest is only 14, she might be waiting a while.'

'And Della is knitting herself a Rowan Fair Isle cardigan. It's the most complicated pattern I've ever seen and she was whizzing through it.

'Even Liz turned out to be a closet top knit. When I got my little effort out I'm sure I heard Bonnie snigger.'

Ginny looked downcast.

'Never mind love. Even if you can't knit you get top marks for bringing home some good Bitch.'